It was the sneaky whispering that got his attention, giggling and furtive and:
"No, Buck. I want to watch that one. Yeah, that one. The one with the three girls."
It couldn't be true. Christmas had come early and the planets were aligned. Tony crept forward with all the subtlety and stealth he was never credited with (which, excuse me, was just rude.).
And there they were. Two supersoldiers hunched over a laptop, elbowing each other like naughty school boys. It was just too bad their ridiculously broad shoulders were blocking his view of the screen.
They were both laughing, those shoulders shaking a little, like they were trying to be quiet, and as he watched Steve's hand dropped to squeeze and jiggle Buckster's knee. For a master strategist and superassassin, discrete they were not. And it was a little bit amazing that neither of them had noticed him, lurking behind them, like a shark circling prey.
There was definitely blood in the water.
Cap actually squirmed in his seat and murmured, almost reverently "Wow, look at those lips."
And it was like a dam bursting.
"Oh my god!" Tony shouted, unable to hold it back any longer. "Avengers Assemble! The Star Spangled Man and Terminator are watching porn!"
He enjoyed their guilty jolts and Steve stood abruptly, turning and planting himself directly in front of the laptop.
"What the hell, Tony?" He was scowling and trying to look stern, though the effect was spoiled by the embarrassed flush on his chisled cheekbones.
Tony rubbed his hands together with glee.
"JARVIS, tell everyone to get down here! We need to share the happy news! Our Cap's finally growing up! Honestly, I feel like a proud parent."
"The message has been relayed, sir."
"Tony!" Steve, bless his cotton socks, looked aghast. "What are you doing?"
Now that was just hurtful.
"I'm just trying to celebrate your full entry into modern society. With the team! This is a historic moment."
"And you know what they say," Clint added from his vantage point in the air vent, causing Cap to jump and flail comically in surprise. "The team that jerks it together, works it together. That's a thing, right?"
"No, it really isn't," Nat informed him, ignoring his muttured "Awww, Nat."
She had materialised out of nowhere at Steve's shoulder. Though this time, Tony noticed with interest and a little pang of envy, Steve didn't react. Because hunting and being hunted by ex-Soviet Murderbots gave people a history. And reduced personal space bubbles.
Instead, Cap looked even more outraged and Karma seemed to agree. There was a thud as Clint lost his balance in whatever gymnastic manoeuvre he was attempting and hit the floor. Honestly, how did that man even assassin?
"I hate to break it to you, pal," Buckaroo said, talking over the muttured cursing. "But we had bluesies back in our day too,". He stared at Tony with all the unnerving intensity of the newly reintegrated into society. "Tijuana Bibles. Peep shows. The works."
Tony blinked and tried not to show his surprise. It wasn't that RoboCop was shy, exactly, but he rarely spoke directly to Tony, or anyone, really. Anyone but Steve and Natasha. Brooding in the corner, like a longhaired James Dean, seemed to be more of his modus operandi. Which suited Tony fine. Much more than trying not to squirm under the full weight of his attention, like a mouse cornered by a snake.
Luckily, Steve saved him, because he was great like that.
"And we were not watching porn!" The personification of American Virtue exploded, shoulders thrown back and nostrils flaring with righteous indignation.
"There is no shame in it, Friend Steve." Thor boomed as he strode to join them from across the room. When did he even get here? Had he seriously just flown in through the window? Well, at least it was open this time. "The sharing of pleasure and love is an act worthy of admiration!"
"I know that! I'm not a monk!" The Man With A Plan exclaimed, face steadily darkening with embarrassment.
Now that was interesting. And surprising.
"Really?" He heard himself asking, some teasing comment on the tip of his tongue, since, hello, he was a genius and therefore never without a quip. It would have been great. Steve would have been so flustered.
Instead, the Winter Soldier, that desert of human emotion, burst out laughing, so hard he shook with it. It was hoarse, like a dog coughing, and his metal fist clutched the edge of the art deco, steel reinforced coffee table, as if for support. Tony watched the metal bend and warp under his fingers. Overall effect: alarming.
"Buck!" Cap hissed, more mortified still. Poor guy was Irish, so his fair skin was burning red, like he'd been out in the sun too long. Weird. You'd really think the super serum would have done something about that.
"I'm sorry!" Buckingham gasped, waving away Cap's embarrassment semi-apologetically. "But have they met you?". He shook his fondly, still wheezing with amusement.
"What does that mean?" Clint asked what they were all thinking.
Bucky Jim smirked. "Just take a look at one his sketchbooks. Any sketchbook"
Well.
"Captain,". Tony breathed, barely believing his luck. "Don't tell me. Have you been drawing any of us? Lke one of your French girls?"
He watched the reference sail over both of their heads. Not that it mattered. The smirk grew exponentially.
"Oh, he drew plenty of French girls. From Calais to Nice. Don't try to deny it, Steve," Buckleberry Finn added, over Captain Pornmerica's spluttering. "I was there. I remember."
At that magic word, Steve face softened, train of thought completely derailed. "You remember?" He repeated quietly. The flush intensified, and he stared at the floor, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands.
The Fist of HYDRA ducked his head and actually blushed. "Yeah," he mumbled back.
They both smiled and didn't look at each other.
It was. What was this? Like watching a mating dance between exotic birds. He half expected David Attenborough's voice to fill the room, calmly explaining to them all what the hell was happening. Not a bad idea, actually. Perhaps he could get JARVIS to dub the security footage later.
"I do not understand," Thor announced, for all of their sakes. Well, maybe not Natasha's. She was smiling a tiny, satisfied smile, like she knew exactly what was going on. Of course, she did.
Steve twitched, apparently reminded that they were all stil there.
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it. But really, " he was back to being disapproving. "We were not watching porn.". He sat down and turned his back on them all firmly.
There was a collective leaning forward to see the screen better. Just in time to watch a video of three gorgously attired women be YouTube shuffled away and be replaced by -
"Is that a clown?" That was Clint. Having run away and joined the circus, he, naturally, had a healthy fear of clowns.
"He's not a real clown. It's just his thing. You know, his, uh, gimmick."
Modern terminology. So proud.
Manfully facing his fear, like the champ he was, Clint leaned over their shoulders and pressed play.
And, wow, the Clown had some lungs on him. His voice resonated, like Frank Sinatra. It was distracting enough he almost didn't recognise the lyrics.
"Wait, that's Lorde!"
They all looked at him and he shrugged. "Well, it is. What? Just because I like rock doesn't mean I can't like pop music too. Don't pigeon-hole me."
"It is most enjoyable!" Thor decreed, as the clown hit a particularly high note.
Puddles the Sad Clown, the video's title informed him. What kind of a stage name was that?
"Oh, is that Postmodern Jukebox?" Bruce had finally trailed in, nursing a mug of something proclaiming him 'World's Best Hugger!'. Hmmmm. Mental note: test theory later.
"Wait, you know about this?"
Bruce looked at him strangely. "Of course. It's a YouTube hit. How do you not? I was literally living in a slum and even I heard about it."
Searching memory. There was something there. Had Pepper mentioned it?
"Anyway," Bruce added. "It's relaxing."
Capsicle and Deep Freeze were both nodding and looking at Bruce approvingly. Which, OK, they were the experts on chill. Maybe he should say that outloud? Or maybe not. Lead balloon, for sure. No one appreciated his wit.
"He's good, but I prefer Haley Reinhart," Natasha drawled, ever in-the-loop. "Put her on next." Clint wisely conceded control of the playlist.
Steve, meanwhile, had been replaced by a starstruck teenage boy.
"Isn't she great, though?" He gushed. "She has such a voice. It's - it's like smoke."
Tony wasn't sure how that comparison worked, and for once Bionic Man seemed to be in agreement, his almost perpetual frown deepening.
And then the video ended and another came on and. Whoah.
A long tumble of Peggy Carter-esque ringlets, dark eyes, deep red lipstick and a warm voice that reached out to wrap them all up, like a blanket.
It was not hard to see the appeal for Steve.
And hang on.
"Is that Radiohead?"
Against all probability, Cap nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it is! Sam told me about it to, you know, catch me up with modern music They do all kinds of stuff."
Well, shit. Sam the Man, dearly departed (back to the VA Centre in DC). The Avengers salute you.
"Oh!" Clint breathed, leaning closer to read the list of queued videos. There's a cover of Black Hole Sun. Put that one on next."
"OK, so this is pretty cool," Tony admitted about an hour later. It had all gone so well, in spite of the odd moment of panic (No! Not the Bieb!". Though, to be fair, it was an excellent cover.) "What else have they got?"
Steve and the Ugly Buckling looked at each other. Their eyes gleamed.
"How much time do you have?"