Important Note: This fic does take place in the Avengers Movie verse, but with a slight twist. Tony never came out to the public that he was Iron Man. The world, and Team as a whole believe The Iron Man is Tony Stark's body guard, they do not know that they are one and the same. Hence, slight A.U

Summary: When Steve Rogers had first laid eyes on Iron Man, he had been extremely curious. Over time however, that curiosity evolved into something far less…innocent. Who was the man behind the mask? What would that body feel like without the armour? Yes people, Captain America was most certainly not as innocent as they would like to believe.

Warnings: First and for most, SLASH. Slight drama, a fair amount of violence, some good old humour, ridiculous amounts of pining, a complete and utter lack of subtlety, and eventually some hot and heavy mansex OH! And mild Suit!kink. This is why people love me ;)

Also, this is the innocent version, yes it has a little zing but nothing explicit due to the sites squeamishness. Full, uncensored version is on AO3.

. . .
. . .

He was doing it again, and was very much aware of it. It always happened when he was in the same room, always. He was sure the others had noticed, there was no way in hell they couldn't have, because he was many things; war hero, living legend, valiant, brave, handsome, well-mannered and very much a sweet heart.

He was not however, very subtle.

He wore a blue body suit with stars and stripes; he was larger than your average Joe, the peak of human potential. He was Captain America.

'As subtle as a sledge hammer to the face' Tony Stark had once told him.

Yeah, there was no way in hell anyone could miss the fact that his favourite pass time seemed to be staring at Iron Man. The armour clad Avenger may or may not have noticed, Steve wasn't sure, because the other male had never said anything about it, never looked back, never called him out on it, hell he didn't even acknowledge the fact that the Avengers field leader had eyes for nothing but him.

Maybe he could pass it off as him listening intently as they were briefed? Iron Man was usually the one to tell them what was going on, what should be done to help the situation, and in some cases explained what button did what and which end to avoid pointing at one's own foot when he brought in some of his employers new toys. It happened more often than one would think; Tony Stark would send Iron Man in with a new crime fighting doodad nearly every week.

He watched as the lighting in the room glinted off the shining metal that clicked and shifted with every movement Iron Man made, blue eyes tracing over various curves and dips the suit made over various points, imitating what was hidden beneath. The body underneath the armour was most definitely slim, lithe but muscled from years of fighting off bad guys. Steve's mouth moistened slightly as his mind conjured up images of what that body must look like without the armour, his imagination running wild as he tried to picture the man behind the armour. He wondered what Iron Man wore under his armour; was there another suit beneath? A protective layer between flesh and hard metal? Leather maybe? Or did he wear casual clothing beneath, jeans and a shirt? Or…was there no need to wear anything at all? His already moist mouth about overflowed at the thought, and he quickly swallowed before he did something even more obvious, like drool all over himself. Who would have thought that something like this would be so…so, -Fascinating? Attractive?- to him. Just a man in an armoured suit provided and 'trained' by Tony Stark. Many a time had Steve stared intently at the shining armour, eyes tracing each line and crevice in an attempt to spot anything resembling unprotected flesh or cloth, something other than hard, powerful armour. He was doing it right now, in fact, even though he knew he would not spot anything, no matter how hard he looked, how hard he wished.

Clint cleared his throat beside him, and Steve jumped in his seat as he quickly blinked and looked at anything other than Iron Man, who was standing at the head of the conference table beside a massive screen, red and gold gauntlets gesturing to certain points on the world map that was displayed. He glanced at the archer in thanks, only to blush at the other blonds smirk and shrug. Next to the black clad Avenger, Natasha rolled her eyes heavenward at their exchange and turned back to watch as Iron Man flicked the screen off and stood with his hands on armour clad hips.

"-all we know for now. S.H.I.E.L.D is working on that, said something about having more on it in a week or so, but be prepared to ship out in a few days, because Mr Stark has already begun looking into it. Any Questions?" The armoured Avenger asked as he folded his arms over the glowing reactor in his chest. Clint raised a hand, a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

"Hawkeye?" Iron Man nodded in the blonds direction.

"I think you might have to go over it again." He said, smirking in Steve's direction. The war hero's eyes widened as he looked from Clint to Iron Man in rising panic.

"Why is that? Did you miss something?" Iron Man asked, raising an armoured hand in an aborted move to rub the back of his neck. Clint shrugged.

"No, but I think the Captain might have, since he was more focused-" He was cut off when Steve abruptly stood, his chair almost toppling over backwards as he cleared his throat.

"If that is all, I've got a…er important errand to run…yeah." With that, Steve turned on his heel and all but fled the room, aware of everyone's eyes following him out, and of Clint Barton's snickering as he hurried up the hall, almost running over Thor, who had just returned from an assignment.

. . .
. . .

Steve sighed morosely as he scrubbed a hand through his short, sweat drenched hair. Blue eyes stared at the torn remains of what used to be a punching bag, seven others much like it lined up in the corner not twenty yards away. "Damn it." He muttered, scrubbing both hands down his face before he leaned forward to tuck his head between his knees. From his position on the floor, back against the white walls of the gym, he was almost invisible in the shadows of the low lighting, which was what he had been aiming for when he collapsed there after his rigorous work out. Sweat trickled down his bare back as his arms circled over his head, hiding his face from the world as it burned red as his thoughts tracked back to the events of an hour ago.

"I'm so pathetic." He thought to himself. Clint was a good friend, but the archer seemed to think his obvious obsession –not an obsession damn it!- with Iron Man was funny as hell, and took great amusement in pointing it out whenever the object of his 'obsession' was present.

He had always been fascinated by the armoured Avenger. Since the first day they had met, the red and gold hero had drawn him in with his cocky attitude, flippant humour and complete disregard for his personal safety. Steve had been watching the other male for a long time, simply taking in the graceful sweeps and strides of the armour clad man's movements, each and every motion seemingly choreographed as he swept about a room or battle zone. The way his armour seemed to hug his body, accentuating what was always hidden from his watchful gaze. Steve seemed to be in a constant daze whenever Iron Man was in the same room as him, eyes always focused on the shining armour, ears attuned to the many subtle clicks and whirs that were a constant when in motion.

Steve had no idea what the man looked like without his armour, but it didn't stop his imagination from running wild on lonely nights tangled in the sheets of his large bed, or in boring meetings, as demonstrated an hour ago. Iron Man was a complete mystery to him, and he hated it. He wanted to know the man behind the armour, wanted to know what his voice sounded like without the acoustics of that damn helmet, wanted to run his fingers through hair that was always hidden, to trace and memorise every firm edge, every slip and slope of flesh that was never seen. But most of all, he wanted to know what colour those eyes were, he wanted to be able to look at the man and not see the intimidating white glow of narrow, impersonal slits that often sent foes running, and see the man's true colours.

"Jesus Christ." Steve grumbled to himself, fully aware of how corny that train of thought had sounded, even to his own mind. He was acting like a love sick teenager, and he knew it without Clint constantly pointing it out on those nights they spent drinking copious amounts of alcohol at whatever bar caught their attention. He knew, deep down that he had allowed himself to fall for a man inside a fancy tin can, if there was even a man in there at all.

If not, he found himself not at all daunted, which just made him want to smash his face against his shield all the more.

With a long, suffering sigh, Steve stood and made his way to the showers, fully intent on washing the events of the day from his mind with a nice, freezing cold shower.

. . .
. . .

It was three days later that something changed.

He still stared, still watched much like any other day, still very much obvious about it no matter how hard he tried to not be. Just the same as every other day of the week…

Tony Stark had dropped by several times in the last three days, and as usual, Iron Man had made himself scarce. Stark had said something about Iron Man not really wanting to 'know' his employer, something about professionalism and some sort of dislike for his attitude, even if they were quite similar in some ways. That was another thing Steve had noticed about Iron Man and Tony Stark. While they claimed to not really know the other outside of a professional relationship, they both showed similar antics. They were both quite arrogant at times, and both had a sense of humour that often left everyone scratching their heads. Well, everyone except Bruce, who just snorted at most of what they said.

They both, at different times –obviously- confessed certain likes and dislikes, that while not the same, still seemed to scream 'similarity'. For example; Stark likes scuba diving, Iron Man says water doesn't agree with his suit –yet-. Stark has a sweet tooth; Iron Man doesn't actually eat while in 'uniform'. Stark loves fast cars. Iron Man was faster than any car, but did admit to reading a few car magazines to gawk at designs and models. Stark enjoys alcohol; Iron Man doesn't fly under the influence –most of the time- and so on. While different answers to the same question, Steve realised that they were actually the same. Just because water didn't agree with his suit, didn't mean Iron Man didn't like water. Just because his suit prevents him from partaking in a sweet –not without giving away his identity anyway- did not mean Iron Man did not in fact like sweets. The list goes on.

Likes and dislikes aside though, their attitude was almost identical, but then it wasn't. While Stark was boisterous about his feats and designs, Iron Man didn't brag about 'the one time he took down this or that with one hand'. While Stark was popular with the ladies -and loved it-, Iron Man actually edged away from any woman that tried to jump him on the streets while his face plate failed to show the pleading look he was no doubt sending his way. It was strange. Every time Steve tried to compare the two, one or both of them would go and do something to blow his theories out of the water.

Then they'd do something to keep them afloat, only to sink them again, and so on.

Quite honestly it was beginning to drive a few of Steve's screws loose.

Then there was the attraction. He would admit, if only to himself that Tony Stark was quite the looker, and he had fantasized about the man a time or ten, not ashamed of the fact, while yes, same sex pairings back in 'his day' were frowned heavily upon –and sometimes persecuted for- he was not above it himself. He had caught himself looking a few soldiers up and down while not so innocent thoughts raced around in his head, back in the 40's. He had even checked a few men out after settling into his new life in this seemingly new time. Clint Barton, or Hawkeye, had caught his eye once or twice when they'd first met, and the man, as his friend had known it, often teased him about it. He'd thrown a glance Bruce Banner's way a few times, but the lingering, unconscious thought that the man could go green and flatten him if his glances were taken the wrong way often turned him in the other direction. Quite quickly. Thor was just…no for some reason, while yes, the God was very easy on the eyes –very easy-, the thought of anything like that with the Norse God had him snorting to himself in horrified amusement. To be honest Thor was too much like a big, blue eyed blond teddy bear to be taken seriously. Unless you know, he threw his hammer at you, then it got serious…fast. He knew from experience, that hammer was not a good thing to get hit with.

But his eyes were mostly, if not all of the time glued to Iron Man, the one man he could not actually get to look at. The man's employer caught his eye enough times to rate as ridiculous, but Iron Man was his main focus in that department. It was driving him mad and he'd readily admit it to whoever was smart enough to ask just why Captain America was twitching and muttering to himself like some escaped mental patient as his theories chased facts around in his head like a dog chasing its tail. It really was taxing on his grip on reality, because honestly? He let it, because he must already be mad if he sometimes found himself incredibly hard just from watching Iron Man randomly poking at himself to make sure everything was functioning as it should.

His mind was a dark, dirty and decidedly kinky place if that was the case. Captain America, innocent? Ri~ght, and the Hulk was a pink ball of sunshineand daises.

Steve blinked, then glanced at the can of soda in his hand, faintly wondering if there was something new in it at that thought. Snorting, the blond downed the last of his drink and stood from his hunched over position at the kitchen counter, dumping the empty –and thoroughly crushed- soda can in the bin. He'd just come in for a cold drink after his morning jog, -who cares if soda isn't the healthiest choice?- and was about to head down to the gym for a good long workout when something blocked his path out of the kitchen.

A red and gold something.

"Going somewhere, Cap?" The armour clad Avenger asked, and Steve swallowed thickly, the blue glow from the armours chest lighting up his throat, seeming to accentuate the action. Steve opened his mouth to say something –anything- but flushed a deep red when only a squeak escaped his lips. Another reason he preferred to watch Iron Man from a safe distance. The man's proximity did things to him. Nothing and no one could ever hope to do to Captain America what Iron Man could just by standing in front of him. Quickly clearing his throat, Steve took a step back, his hands rubbing the sides of his running slacks nervously, breath caught in his chest.

"Just, heading to the gym." He manages not to squeak this time, and he inwardly sighs in relief as he snags a breath of air. Iron Man cants his head to the side, and the breath Steve had just managed to get leaves his lungs in a stuttering 'whoosh' at the very predator likeaction.

"Mind if I join you?" The other Avenger asks, voice decidedly low even in the suit. That would mean sparring, right? That would mean Steve touching the object of his obses-affection. A lot of touching. Steve's mouth goes dry and he fights the rising panic.

"Oh god why me?" He thinks desperately, trying to will his body to calm the hell down as images assault his already fried brain.

"…You don't look so good Captain, maybe you should sit down?" Iron Man purrs, stepping forward. Steve gulps, blue eyes wide as he takes a step back for every step the other male takes forward.

"Me? No, I'm fine, really," Steve babbles as he edges backwards. "-no need to-you know? Maybe I do feel a little off, I should just go...you know…lay dowa-hey!" Steve yelps as warm metal clad hands clamp onto his bare shoulders –why did he have to go jogging shirtless today, why?- to force him down into the chair he had not long ago vacated. -Did he mention those hands were warm? How is metal warm?-

"Hmm, you seem tense Captain." Steve shudders at the way his codename is purred down at him, and his mind runs in circles at the implications. What the hell was going on? Had someone spiked the damn soda without him noticing? Was he passed out on the kitchen floor dreaming about being accosted by fucking Iron Man in broad day light? Oh god if he was he prayed he wasn't drooling, or you know hard. If someone found him like that, his life was over. A sharp click in front of his face startles Steve out of his thoughts and he almost goes cross-eyed at the fingers inches from his nose. "With me, Captain." Iron Man orders, metallic voice doing things it most definitely shouldn't be doing to him.

"Er." Steve starts as the armour leans in closer, crowding into his personal space. He swallows. "W-what are you doing?" He asks, blue eyes fixed onto the glowing white slits that were staring him down. This was not happening.

"Why Captain, I didn't think you were so dense." Iron Man says lightly, before promptly straddling Steve's lap, causing the steel chair to groan in protest. Steve doesn't even notice how heavy the suit is on his thighs, all he can think about is the fact that Iron Man was sitting in his lap as if it were a completely normal thing for him to do. Steve's hands twitch almost spasmodically at his sides, arms stiff as boards on either side of him, back ram rod straight, legs locked in place and blue orbs riveted to the steady glow of Iron Man's 'eyes'. "Caught on yet?" He asks, voice still light. Steve swallows thickly, body twitching in the seat. He wanted to move, to touch but forced himself still. For all he knew this was some sort of test, that the Man of Iron had known about his obsession all along, and was simply fucking with him.

Steve's brain stuttered to a halt at his own wording. Actually, he wouldn't really mind if Iron man decided to fuck with him, minus the 'with'.

"-tain? Captain? Steve!?" Steve snapped out of his daze to find the red and gold face plate inches from his nose. "Oh good, you are present, for a moment there I thought I'd broken you." Iron Man says, leaning back slightly. Steve shakes his head to snap himself further out of his daze.

"I think you have." He croaks, before snorting to himself, amused and more than slightly annoyed at how pathetic he was being. Yes, the object of his obsession had decided to perch itself in his lap, yes it was driving him insane, yes he was most definitely hard, and yes he was most definitely about to snap, no reason to go and have a nervous breakdown or anything…

Iron Man tilts his head again, and Steve can practically feel the smugness radiating off the man in waves. He could also feel how dead his legs were getting too, actually.

"Hmm." Iron Man hums, adjusting himself in Steve's lap, boots bracing on the floor on either side of 'their' chair to take some weight, allowing blood to circulate back into Steve's legs. "Did you think I hadn't noticed?" He asks suddenly, causing Steve to blink up at the blankly staring face plate. "Did you think I haven't seen the way you watch me?" He continues, and Steve feels his mouth go dry once more. Iron Man tsk's at him as he leans forward, once more crowding into his personal space. Steve doesn't lean back.

"Tell me, Captain, have you noticed the way I watch you?" The question startles Steve, and his already wide eyes widen further. He opens his mouth to ask just what the heck he meant but was cut off. "Of course you haven't, because unlike you I know how to be subtle about it." It's snickered, and Steve's face heats up as he looks away, grumbling. Iron Man leans back and laughs, and Steve can feel it in his thighs as the suit vibrates with it.

Just as suddenly as the laughter started, it stops and Steve gasps as the hands on his shoulders –how had he forgotten they were there?- slide down to run over his bare chest, splaying over his already hot skin. He can feel the ridges and slopes on the palms of the gauntlets, knows what kind of damage these hands can do when in this position, fingers spread, palm out. He shudders violently at the thought, inwardly horrified that the thought turned him on. He'd never been this turned on in his life; he was so hard it hurt.

The warm metal heats further against his skin, and one metal clad hand shifts. Steve swallows hard, closing his eyes tightly as he fought to regain some semblance of composure. A series of clicks and whirs startles him, and blue eyes snap open as a light 'thunk' sounded beside him, and he glances at the table slightly behind him to see a red and gold gauntlet sitting innocently on its surface. His eyes are fixed on the gleaming metal, mind running rampant at the fact that Iron Man had taken off a piece of his armour. Something soft and warm touches his chin, and he blinks in shock as his face is gripped and turned back to stare into glowing white. The bare hand against his chin shifts, warm fingers trailing feather light down his throat, caressing, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Such a curious thing, aren't you Captain?" Iron Man asks as his fingers slid over his Adam's apple, that bobs as he swallows. The fingers rise from his throat to trace along his jaw, moving to stroke his cheek. Steve shudders at the intimate touch, hands twitching again as the urge to touch back grows. "Always watching me. Always aware of me. Why, Steve? Why do you watch me like that? Like you are now?" The question is asked softly, and Steve's eyes trace the lines of the face plate in front of him for the thousandth time, wishing he could trace the lines of the face beneath just once. Why did he watch Iron Man like he did? He knew the answer, but he didn't know how to say it. He had always been good with words, but this time nothing came to mind, no words to express, no words to answer.

"I just do." The words are out of his mouth before he realizes it. "It's like…something comes over me, I can't help it." He continues, finally finding some words in the wake of his answer. "I try to imagine…What you look like underneath." He says, vaguely aware of how perverted that must sound. "What your voice sounds like without the suits speakers…What your expressions are like, what your smiles like…" He really should stop himself from continuing, but he can't, it's like he really was broken, unable to stop himself from ruining their friendship with words and admissions that might actually freak the other out. "What colour your eyes are…" His efforts to stop are in vain, it seemed. The fingers that had paused over his cheek bone drift lower, soft, warm tips brushing the corner of his mouth, before stroking over his bottom lip, slow and gentle.

"You already know." Iron Man says, entirely too cryptic to Steve's dazed mind. Steve frowns up at him in confusion, and Iron Man tilts his head to the side once more, the motion somehow...amused. "Oh you know exactly what I look like, Captain." He continues, warm fingers retreat from his lip to scratch playfully between his scrunched brows. "You've seen me around; you just didn't know it at the time." Iron Man says, the smirk audible in his words. Steve opened his mouth to say that no, he'd know if it was him but was stopped by a finger pressing firmly to his lips. "You know, Steve." He says softly, removing his finger.

Did he? No, he didn't. Steve would know, he would have to, he'd see it in the way he moved, the way he spoke. He would just instinctively know! He doesn't notice as a second 'thunk' sounds behind him, but he does notice when two blessedly bare hands cup his cheeks and in a gentle but firm hold.

"Don't over think it, you always over think things, you're almost as bad as me and that's saying something." The armoured Avenger says, amused. Steve's still caught up on the hands holding his face. There really was a man beneath the suit. Anything else that could have been said or done was stopped by a shocked gasp from the doorway, and Steve remembered that they were in the kitchen of Avengers Tower and that yes, there were actually other people in it as well. Iron Man doesn't even twitch at the interruption; he simply sighs and turns his head to see whoever was in the doorway. Steve leans slightly to the side, peering around the bulk of armour in his lap to see none other than Clint Barton standing in the doorway, blue eyes wide as he stared at them.

Clint cleared his throat and proceeded to enter the kitchen, quickly walking to the cupboard, where he retrieved a large back of crisps before turning on his heel and disappearing out the way he had come as if he hadn't just walked in on Iron Man straddling Captain America. Iron Man snorted and turned back to Steve, who glanced back at the doorway just in time to see Clint reappear, munching on a crisp, the other blond simply smirked and popped another crisp in his mouth before giving him a thumbs up while turning to disappear once more, letting the kitchen doors swing closed behind him.

"That was…awkward." Iron Man says before dropping his hands from Steve's cheeks. Steve tries not to let the wave of disappointment get to him as the heavy weight on his legs shifts and disappears. "That's enough excitement for one day I think." Iron Man says, voice cracking suspiciously as he stands, gauntlets replaced, and Steve can hear the shudder that wracks through the metal with the words. Was he…did he just? Oh…

Steve's mind fizzled a little more as he watched Iron Man walk towards the doorway, his gait slightly off. "Until next time, Captain." The man throws over his shoulder before disappearing through the doors. Steve sits there in silence for a good five minutes before he glances down at his lap.

And curses.

. . .
. . .

One would think a person would avoid the object of their obsession after an encounter like that, but low and behold, a week later nothing differed. Actually, it did, now Steve didn't just watch Iron Man, he watched everyone. He looked for clues, for nuances, the small things that would give someone away as Iron Man. He watched men that weren't present whenever Iron Man was; he watched them with an intensity that had Hawkeye laughing something about 'young grass hoppers'. He didn't really care; Clint didn't deserve his watchful gaze, because he knew point blank that Clint was not Iron Man.

The man of iron in question had noticed, and had laughed and clapped him on the back. "Looking for me?" He would purr in his ear, before walking off. The others noticed the change, and Clint had gleefully informed him of a betting pool. Apparently Natasha had started it. He didn't know what they were betting on though…

. . .
. . .

A month.

Four weeks.

Forty eight days.

Nothing. Not a single hint, not a single little clue. He was no closer to finding out the true identity of Iron Man then when he'd first started. He was going insane, and to make matters worse, Iron Man was taunting him. Whenever it was just the two of them, on the field or within the confines of Avengers Tower, the red and gold Avenger taunted him.

A head cant in his direction here.

A hip cocked to the side there.

A purred comment for his ears only everywhere.

It was enough to drive any man spare, and yet, he was no closer to finding out the truth. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many people he watched. He needed a clue, something to help him, anything, but he couldn't ask Iron Man, because it would get him nowhere, the man would most assuredly not tell him a thing, content to watch him drive himself insane over the mystery that was the Man Of Iron.

He could ask Stark.

. . .
. . .

"And what do I owe this pleasure Dear Captain?" Tony Stark greeted from behind the empty torso of an Iron Man suit.

Steve hesitated in the doorway to Starks lab, not really knowing how to approach the man. "Er…I might…need some help." He finally admitted, stepping into the room proper and approaching the genius billionaire, who paused with two small pieces of wire inches apart.

"Help? From me?" Stark asked, sounding surprised. "What do you need? New phone? New laptop? New suit perhaps? Oh! I know, your very own Bat Mobile!" Stark rattled off, finishing with the wires and hastily stuffing them back into a small panel in the suits spine. Steve frowned in confusion at the last one, then shook his head.

"No, I need some information." He finally said, eyes darting about the room in case the object of his query decided to pop out from behind a computer terminal or something. Stark blinked, a little thrown and more than slightly disappointed.

"Damn, I've been waiting for one of you guys to come here and ask me for a cool ride…Oh well, information you say?" He asked, standing and dusting off his worn and faded jeans, wondering over to a consol. "Information on what?" Stark asked, cracking his fingers. Steve swallowed thickly and opened his mouth to ask the one question he probably would never be able to take back, but paused. Stark raised a brow at him, questioning.

"Er…" Was all Steve could manage. He was this close, this close to finding out at least something about Iron Man, but at the last second he chokes? "Come on Rogers, are you Captain America or aren't you?" He asked himself. Steve heaves a fortifying breath and opens his mouth to ask, only to be interrupted before the first word could pass his lips.

"You want to know something about Iron Man, don't you?" Stark asked, sounding by far more amused than Steve had ever heard him, and the tips of his ears turned pink.

"Am…am I that obvious?" He asked instead, sheepish. Stark snorted before grinning, rounding his little console to approach Steve with arms wide open.

"Obvious? No. Transparent more like, but heck, I can't judge." Stark announced, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulder. "To answer your rather predictable question, no, I'm afraid I can't give you any dirty details on Iron Man, the guy would probably drop me off the top of the Tower if I did." Steve slumped at the announcement, not really all that surprised. Stark squeezed his shoulder in support. "I can however, throw you a bone." Steve frowned in confusion.

"…Why a bone?" He asked, more than slightly out of his depth. Stark blinked up at him, before rolling his eyes.

"Figure of speech, meaning I can give you a hint or two." He elaborated, amused. Steve blinked, than glanced sideways at Stark, who had detached himself from Steve's shoulder to meander over to a sofa that had escaped his notice until now.

"What's the price?" He asked, dubious. Stark barked a laugh as he dropped onto the old looking sofa, absently patting Dummy the little robot that pottered over to fuss over his loose shoelace.

"You wound me Captain! Me, demand something in return after helping out a friend? No, not demand, more like…Ask. Meaning, you have a choice, yes, no doesn't matter, I won't push the issue." Stark drawled, waving his hand around, eyeing Steve, who shifted on his feet.

"Ok…What's the…price?" He asked, not too sure how Stark's mind worked. Stark grinned wolfishly.

"A date." He purred. Steve felt his ears warm again, and he swallowed thickly.

"A…date?" He did not squeak, Captain America did not squeak. "But…You don't like me!?" He sputtered, confused, slightly flattered and horrified all at once. Stark wiggled his brows.

"And how would you know that? You never asked. Mind you, it's not entirely your fault, I am rather…Busy, but alas, it is what it is. So, Captain." Stark trailed off, hazel eyes watching his every move like a predator would prey, causing Steve's throat to constrict and heart rate to sky rocket. "I drop a hint or two…and you go on a date with me." He finished with a smirk. Steve swallowed, eyes darting around the room, now almost praying for Iron Man to stumble upon him and save him from Stark.

"Er…" Steve stuttered, and all at once Stark's expression seemed to close off.

"I did say it was your choice, Captain. A friendly offer, that's all it was." Stark assured, standing from his space on the sofa and stalking back to his work. Steve watched in slight confusion. "You want a hint? He's not just brawn, that guy has a mind like no other, and the best way to get to him is to appeal to that mind. Smart guys dig a challenge, ask him for some help on something, might show you something you've missed." Stark said, waving him to the door. "Now if you don't mind, I've got work to finish. Nice seeing you again, Captain."

Steve left in a daze, not entirely sure of what had just happened. "He asked me out on a date…Stark likes me? Since when?" Steve thought, wondering back to the Avenger's part of the Tower. He didn't notice when he made it to the living room and dropped onto the sofa beside Clint, who was watching what appeared to be some sort of…Steve wasn't sure, but it looked…violent.

"You ok there Cap? You look rather…well, you look like your about to freak the fuck out." Clint stated, leaning over and into his personal space. Steve swallowed and shook himself.

"Yeah, I'm ok…Just a little, overwhelmed." He assured his friend. Clint snorted.

"Iron Man molested you again, didn't he?" The archer asked, sounded highly amused. Steve blushed, then scowled, folding his arms.

"No, as a matter of fact he didn't, I was just-" Clint interrupted him with,

"Someone's touchy, what, he didn't try to bust his moves on you, and that's why your so-"

"Who tried to bust moves on Cap?" Came a metallic voice from the doorway, and both Clint and Steve about launched into orbit.

"No one!" Steve yelped, almost falling off the sofa in an attempt to turn and see the newest arrival while Clint meeped and ducked the foot thrown his way. Iron Man stood in the doorway, armoured arms folded across his chest.

"…Ri~ght." He drawled, sounded slightly confused at the uncharacteristic behaviour from not one, but two of the most composed Avengers. "Mind telling me what's going on here? I just got chased out of a lab by my employers stare of doom, had a stack of papers thrown at me by a PMS'ing Widow, got an abusive phone call from Fury and now I'm getting the awkward dance from you two…" Iron Man remained in the doorway, glowing eyes staring at them as he shifted, his suit clicking and whirring.

Steve glanced at Clint, who shrugged back. Steve scowled, Clint shook his head. Steve nudged Clint with his foot, Clint jerked his head in Iron Man's direction. Steve shook his head almost violently, Clint groaned.

Iron Man threw his hands into the air. "What the hell! Didn't anyone tell you two that silent conversations are rude?" Steve and Clint turned back and stared at him, causing the red and gold Avenger to glance down at his suit. "What? Did I forget to close my crotch plate or something?" He prodded said plate, causing Steve to slide sideways off the sofa and Clint to choke.

"Dude!" The archer yelped, covering his eyes. Iron Man raised his hand in an aborted face palm.

"Alright, fine, you know what? I'm going to go find some alcohol, everyone's acting weird today." With that, the Man of Iron turned and vanished into the hall, leaving Steve and Clint to stare at each other in awkward silence.