Notes: Not gonna lie, was totally inspired by my zumba class last night. Again, I am SO not versed in the Avengers characters so I am SO SORRY if I murdered the characterizations. I tried *cries* I hope you like. Also sorry for the lack of sex, but in all honesty, I woke up to find out there is no coffee in my house, so it's a miracle I was able to write this coherently. I'll probably post more in this universe. We can call this a prequel to Volitile, Self-Obsessed and Doesn't Play Well with Others.

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He didn't really know what it was. Maybe that quiet jingle of the gold coins that tickled his fancy? Whatever it was, he couldn't stop watching. At least, he couldn't stop watching until a quiet hand plucked the kindle from his hands and held it up to her face.

"What the hell?" Natasha asked. Her perfectly shaped brows dipped into a frown. "Are you watching cartoons?"

Tony pouted and tried to yank the device back, but she held it just out of his reach. "Yes. What's it to you? I'm a grown-ass man, I can watch what I want."

"What the hell is it, though?" She took a step back and stared down at the screen. "Oh god, wait. Is this Scrooge McDuck?"

"What? I like him," Tony said, his arms crossing over his chest. "He gets to swim in a vault full of gold coins."

"You do realize that if you even tried to attempt that, you'd get a concussion and probably die?"

Tony gave a shrug. "Yeah but death by money? It would be so worth it."

Natasha rolled her eyes and hit the button to turn the device off and slipped it into her purse. "Yeah well, not that I'm in any way surprised, but we're about to start class and I thought since this is your first Zumba lesson, you might want to stretch or something."

Tony rolled his eyes and said, "Me? Dude have you seen me? I'm as limber as a… I don't know. What animal is limber? A cat? I'm as limber as a fucking cat, Natasha. I'm going to own this class."

Her eyebrow rose and she crossed her arms. "Uh huh."

Tony took a step back and then glanced around at the group of people waiting to go in. Almost all of them were women, most of them with dark hair, dark skin, and wearing impossibly tight spandex hugging every curve. A couple were practicing what looked like Salsa moves, and another woman was doing this crazy twirling thing with her arms while her hips and ass moved independently of her upper body's rhythm.

Tony's eyes widened a fraction as he realized he was fucked. He turned back to her. "How did I get talked into this, again?"

Natasha laughed and gave his arm a pat. "Look, it can be tough, but you'll like it. You were the one complaining that all cardio work-outs were boring and had no flare."

"Oh no, no I did not use the word flare," Tony said, leveling a finger at her. "I do not say flare."

"Oh please, you're a gay man who…"

"Who doesn't use flare, and I'm not that gay."

Natasha quirked another eyebrow but didn't say anything as Tony began to carefully stretch his calves. He looked at the small group of men who were waiting to join the class with them. Tall, over-muscled, wearing impossibly tight tank tops and spandex shorts. Yeah, no, Tony was not that type of gay man. They were chatting loudly about their previous night, and one guy even had his hand on his hip.

Tony had slept with men like that, but he wasn't one of them.

He glanced around at the rest of the gym. The sweating, grunting, well-oiled, over-tanned men and women on the machines and weights. All Tony really saw was the general public all crammed together on these machines like they enjoyed the risk of hepatitis B with all that fluid sharing and… uncleanliness.

He really didn't remember how he got talked into this in the first place. I mean, Natasha didn't really seem like the gym type of girl, and he was pretty sure she had made up the word Zumba anyway. But now there they were, at this public place and god… how gross. If Tony wanted to work out in a gym, he'd just buy one. This one, in fact, and have it ripped from the ground, airlifted to Stark Towers, and then sanitized. Then he'd probably replace all of the machines with gold ones, because hell yeah, if he was going to work out, it would be on gold ellipticals and treadmills…

"Tony!"

His name being called in her trademark irritated tone made Tony look up, and he realized everyone had gone inside the classroom. With a sigh, he stepped in, immediately assaulted by the smell of other people's sweat. Sweat and tears, he had to assume, since he'd seen the bootcamp class prior to this Zumba one, and he didn't know why people would do that to themselves.

The room itself was large, but he had to question whether they should be cramming more than thirty people into the space. The hardwood floors echoed as they all piled inside, and since he'd been delayed by his fantasy of gold rooms, he and Natasha had gotten stuck in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. Fuck. That's all he needed, these muscle-heads staring at his ass as he attempted to follow these Zumba moves, whatever the hell they were.

Tony glanced over at Natasha, who was stretching and hopping around. He knew he should probably mimic her, but he felt like such an ass. He had half a mind to run out. But no, he wouldn't because she had challenged him. She had bet he wouldn't be able to last in a class with her, so yeah. He wasn't leaving. A small part of his mind wondered if this was some sort of set-up or something, because she damn well knew he couldn't resist a challenge or bet. But he promptly told that small part of his mind to shut the hell up.

He stared down at his neon-pink guest pass and felt like they all knew he was about to suck ass at this. Unless, of course, he didn't. Tony was naturally talented in a lot of ways, so maybe this Zumba dancing was one of them. Yeah. I mean, he could just blow them away with his ability to get down on this shit like nobody's business.

A second later, the door opened and a tall, sandy blond with broad shoulders and well defined arms walked in. Tony almost dropped the water bottle he was holding as he watched the man stroll up to the front of the class. He was wearing pants with the Zumba logo on the side, and one of them was hitched up to the knee, revealing a very defined, very sexy calf.

Tony shook his head, pulling himself out of it. He turned to Natasha and muttered, "What is that? Some new fashion statement? Kid can't put on pants right, or what?"

"He rode his bicycle here, you jackass," she said with an eyeroll he could almost hear.

He turned back to the teacher and then spotted the bike helmet in his other hand. "Oh. Right. Well it still looks stupid."

"Nice," she said.

Tony was distracted again, though, because the teacher had just put some very loud, very peppy Latin music on the speakers. The students in the class began to dance a little, hopping up and down, back and forth, their feet making time with the beat. The blond now began to make his way through the class, saying hi to everyone, and Tony felt his breath catch in his throat as he locked eyes with the man and found himself with adrenaline firing as the blond approached.

"Hi," he said over the music.

"Uh… yeah. That. Hi," Tony said. He was pissed at himself. Tony was a wordsmith, the man who had mastered the spoken language and that's what he came up with? Yeah. That. Hi. Really?

"I'm Steve," he said, and his smile was so bright Tony swore that it gave him a slight retina burn.

"Tony." Reeeeeal smooth.

Steve stood there for a moment, and then laughed and when he shook his palm a little, Tony realized that Steve had been waiting for the guest pass.

Tony flushed almost fuchsia as he slapped the pass into Steve's large, but surprisingly soft palm. Their fingers brushed for only a second, but Tony had a sudden and intense thought that he'd like their skin to touch for a lot more than that. "Sorry."

"First time?" Steve asked.

Tony nodded and then glanced back at Natasha who was chatting away and laughing a little with one of the taller men in the class. They were doing some rather complicated, twisting move and Tony realized he was probably screwed. Again. "Friend talked me into it. Former friend, I think."

Steve laughed again, his smile damn infectious, and he reached out, giving Tony's shoulder a squeeze. "I'll try and take it easy on you. Just follow my steps and I'll call out the moves. It's actually fun once you get used to it." After an eternal second, Steve's hand slid off Tony's shoulder and he went around the rest of the room collecting the class slips.

Tony wanted to believe that Steve had touched him just that fraction longer than what was considered friendly. He didn't have long to ponder, though, because the music began, and the class started. Now, it sounded simple, follow my commands and watch my moves.

Yeah. Sounds easy, right?

Well after about forty-five seconds, Tony discovered not only did he lack any semblance of natural talent for this style of dance, but he also had no rhythm. None. Granted, Tony was never much of a dancer, and if he ever did it was when he was nearly blackout drunk, but wow, he had no idea he was that bad. The class turned left, he turned right. The beat was boom boom boom and his beat was boom boomboom boom. Wave your hands, he dropped them. Drop your hands, he waved them.

Eventually he gave up trying and just focused on the nice view of Steve's ass, and trying to at least get the footwork right. He let his arms hang, realizing he looked a little like an ape, but at least he was moving at the right pace.

Natasha openly laughed and mocked him, but Steve glared hard enough to shut her up. Which earned him some major points in Tony's book, not that he needed any more. But either way, the hour seemed to take ten, and when Steve announced that it was the cool down song, Tony almost cried.

Tony found himself gulping water, leaning against the back wall while everyone started to file out. Natasha announced she was heading to the ladies, and made Tony swear he wouldn't take off without her. He probably would have, if he could move fast enough to sneak away without her, but at the present time he was lucky to have the strength to stay upright.

It was also giving him a good view of Steve, who was packing up his stuff. Steve glanced over his shoulder and gave another chuckle at Tony. "Was that actually taking it easy on me?" Tony called out as Steve shoved his iPod into his bag.

Steve's eyes had a mischievous glint as he crossed the room. As he stood in front of Tony, he looked almost sheepish, like a little puppy, and he shrugged. "I might have compromised my morals and taken a bribe to work you pretty hard."

"That bitch," Tony sighed.

Steve laughed. "It take it your girlfriend likes torturing you?"

Tony choked on the swallow of water he was gulping, and it took him a full thirty-seconds to breathe properly again. "Girlfriend," he sputtered. "No, no, god no. No. She isn't my girlfriend."

Steve blushed and took a step back. "Sorry, I just assumed."

Tony felt bad that he'd embarrassed the teacher and shook his head, waving his hand. "No, I mean, it's just…"

"Gay?"

Tony shrugged. "I don't like to define myself with labels…" he began.

"It's fine. Not quite sure I have a straight male Zumba student," Steve said, his bright smile returning. "Anyway, I know I went hard on you, but I promise Zumba really is fun. Think I'll see you again?"

Tony wasn't positive, but he was a pretty perceptive guy and he was reading something into Steve's question. And not just a friendly, it was a pleasure to have you in class sort of something. "I don't see why not," Tony found himself saying.

The next morning Tony did see why Steve may never see him in class again. He could barely move. He had six meetings that day, and he wasn't sure he was going to be able to get out of bed. His muscles screamed as he swung himself over the edge of his bed, and it took him a full three minutes to cross the room to his bathroom.

"Shower on, hot," he grunted as he emptied his bladder, leaning on the wall behind the toilet because if he didn't, he was going to fall over. Wincing and groaning, Tony managed to hobble over to the shower and step in.

Normally, the pulsing hot water from his shower-head did the trick in relieving the tension from his muscles, but this was nothing compared to what he'd experienced in the past. God. He was probably going to have all of his limbs amputated. He could be dying. He felt like he was dying.

"Phone call. Natasha Romanov."

Tony rolled his eyes, contemplating ignoring the alert, but he did want to yell at her for yesterday's bullshit. "Answer."

"Are you in the shower? God why can't you just call me back like a normal person? I don't want to think about you naked, touching yourself," she bitched.

"I'm going to kill you, I hope you realize. You're living on borrowed time. It's going to be painful and slow, and aching and you're going to beg me to end it by the time I'm done with you."

Natasha laughed loudly, her voice echoing off the cavernous bathroom walls. "Sore, huh? It gets better with the second class."

"Second class?" Tony laughed bitterly. "Oh no, sweetheart, there isn't going to be a second class. I am not putting myself through that willingly. You're out of your mind if you think that I'm going to set foot in that studio—"

"Not even if you know that Steve is looking forward to seeing you again?" she asked.

Tony froze. "Steve..." and it dawned on him. "You stupid bitch. That was a set-up! Did he know?"

Natasha laughed again. "No, but he's cute, right? And totally your type."

"My type? Have you lost your damn mind? That kid is so square-cut, white-bread, Leave it to Beaver…"

"Which is exactly your type, Tony," Natasha said. "Turns out he doesn't just teach Zumba, either. He's a sign language interpreter. I met him through Clint."

"Jesus H, Natasha…"

"Just promise you'll think about it. I swear, he's such a nice guy and as much as I can't stand you most of the time, I think you could do with some nice-guy in your life once in a while."

The line went dead, probably because Natasha knew Tony would refuse and continue to refuse until she accepted his refusal, and then he'd refuse five more times just to get his point across. He was not going to torture his body again, not even for the cute teacher who also happened to be an all-around good guy. No. He absolutely was not.

It was almost ten PM and Tony was lost in his work. Pepper had long since taken her leave of her over-demanding boss, and Tony was alone at the top of the tower. His screens were all laid out in front of him and he was working on modifying a couple of formulas Bruce had sent over from the University.

He was doing mental calculations when the door to the office hissed open, and he turned, almost dropping his electronic clipboard when he saw who was standing there. It was Steve. Like Steve from Zumba with his bright smile and fit ass… oh god.

"Uh hi," Tony said, wondering what the hell he was doing there, though he could easily guess how Steve figured out who he was.

"Hey. Missed you at class tonight," he said, walking forward cautiously, taking in the office with an expression of absolute wonder.

"Yeah uh," Tony said, and took a few, limping steps forward. The pain was receding, but very, very slowly.

Steve couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips and he held a take-out food bag in front of him. "I came to offer my apologies and make peace? With curry?"

Tony's stomach gave a loud growl, eliciting a laugh from the other man, and he rolled his eyes. "Natasha told you the way to my heart was through food?"

Steve's eyebrows shot up. "Um, nooooo," he said slowly. "Spicy curry is good for you and surprisingly, always helps ease my muscle aches. But the way to your heart is food? That's interesting."

Tony blushed now, and felt like a jackass. "Sorry. I just… never mind. Never mind, I'm just going to kill Natasha, so I hope you won't miss her too much."

"Shame, I liked her," Steve said. "Can I put these somewhere?"

Tony uttered the command for the computer screens to jet upwards and out of sight. Steve muttered an exclamation of wonder as Tony motioned to the couch. "Since you brought food you might as well stay and take a load off."

Steve smiled and within a few minutes, they were lounging on the couch drinking wine and eating the painfully hot, but delicious curry.

"Where did you find this place? This food is amazing," Tony said, shoveling the Daal Makhani into his mouth with a giant piece of garlic naan. "I mean my god…"

Steve grinned as he swallowed his bite of Mumbai Aloo. "Friend of a friend. The guy who runs it is from Bangladesh and all the recipes are old family recipes. I figured it was the least I could do for crippling you in class last night."

Tony shifted his still-sore leg to the side, but smiled. "This more than makes up for it. Normally I'd go all Al Pacino on your ass, but the curry pleases me."

Steve chuckled again and they ate the rest of the meal in silence. Tony offered Steve more wine, but he shook his head so Tony finished off the bottle himself. "Not good?"

"Oh it was very nice, I just don't drink much," Steve said. "I might not be the best practicing Christian, but I try."

"Christian? Like the whole Jesus and Mary and what not?" Tony asked. The alcohol was loosening his tongue a bit too much. "Aren't you gay though?"

Steve blushed and just as Tony was about to splutter an apology, he said, "I like to believe that despite my personal tastes in my bedroom activities, Jesus loves me for the good person I am."

"I didn't mean to offend you," Tony said.

"You didn't. You're honest and a little coarse, but that's not necessarily a bad thing."

Tony stared at him hard. "So… would it offend you if I told you I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Steve's cheeks pinked and he ducked his head a little. "Ummm… no."

Tony wasted no time in diving in. He grabbed Steve by the sides of his face and kissed him. Hard. And Steve responded in kind, something Tony had been hoping for, and even better, Steve was good. He knew just how to move his lips, his hands fisting in the front of Tony's shirt and his tongue… oh god.

"I think it might offend you if I tell you the things I'd like to do to you now, though," Tony whispered against Steve's mouth.

Steve gave a little laugh and then said quietly, "Well if telling me would be offensive, why don't you just show me?"