Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel. I don't profit from this.
This is dedicated to my friend Shannon. Like an ass, I forgot her birthday, so here is me trying to make up for it with her OTP.
Pairing: Stony (I guess that's what it's called. SteveXTony)
Tony walked into one of the multiple kitchens of Stark Tower. He opened the fridge, scanned the contents for a moment, and then proceeded to pile his arms full of food. At this point he wasn't picky; he hadn't eaten in days, instead choosing to lock himself down in the work shop. He hadn't accomplished much, but he found that solitude was better than subjecting himself to the outside world.
He walked into the adjoining dining room, tossing all the food on the table in a general area. He flopped into one of the chairs, picking a pack of salami out of the selection. He opened the package, stuffing his mouth with the meat…he tried not to giggle at the thought. He really was too tired at this point. He was reverting to his (more) immature state.
"Umm, Tony?"
Tony's head whipped up at the voice. There was Steve, at the end of the table, eyes bloodshot and confused.
"Damn, Cap! You can't just sneak up on people like that!" Tony snapped.
"Tony, I've been here the whole time." Blue eyes narrowed. "How tired are you? How much have you been drinking this evening?"
"Too tired with too little booze," Tony opened up a bag of Cheetos and began practically inhaling them. When they were about halfway gone, he stood; he brushed the cheese dust off his fingers and onto his jeans. "However, that second problem is about to be remedied."
"Tony, you drink too much," Steve sighed.
"Why do you keep repeating my name? You don't see me beginning my sentences with 'Cap,' this and 'Cap,' that. We are the only two people in the room; it's unnecessary!"
"You're rambling," Steve said, face pinched, showing his irritation.
"I'm not rambling! I'm getting a drink. What's your poison of choice?" Tony walked over to the liquor cabinet.
Steve looked like he was going to argue for a moment before his shoulder seemed to deflate. He hung his head. "Woodford."
Tony snickered. "Good poison."
He got out two glasses, filling them both to just under the lid. He walked over to where Steve sat with his head in his hands.
"Here you go, Mon Capitan," Tony said, putting the glass in front of him.
Steve grabbed the glass, pressed it to his lips, slung his head back, and drained the glass. He placed it back on the table, still appearing miserable.
"What the hell is up with you, man?" Tony asked with concern. His glass had paused on its journey to his lips. Although he had trouble talking about feelings and such, even he could see how badly something was wrong with his teammate. Suddenly, whether or not they got along wasn't the most important factor.
"You don't care, so why ask?" Steve rolled his eyes, the alcohol making his face flushed; it began making him mean.
"I care enough to ask," Tony shrugged, unfazed by the hostility.
"You are so flippant!" Steve growled, standing up. "I'm so fucking tired of your attitude!"
"I'm a smart ass, Cap. Get the hell over it."
"No," Steve grabbed him by the shirt. "I don't think I will."
"Cap?" Tony's eyebrows rose. Oh, the liquor was a bad idea. Cap was an angry drunk, he took a mental note.
"How is it that I can lose soldiers, good men, with families and morals and sweethearts back home, and then you…unattached son of a bitch that you are…can't manage to die?" Steve shoved Tony against the wall.
Tony still had his drink in his right hand. He lifted it, drinking it around the arm that had him pinned.
"So someone died? Well that's a shame. No reason to hurt your teammate, though," Tony smirked.
"You aren't my teammate. Have to be a team player first," Steve shook his head.
"Last I checked, I did more than my fair share," Tony went to take another drink, but Steve knocked the glass out of his hand. It shattered on the floor, pieces of glass glittering in the muted light like crystals. "Damn it, Cap! I liked that drink!"
"Fuck you!" Steve growled.
"Oh please," Tony snorted. "You're just a durable gymnast with an oversized Frisbee. You're not a super hero."
"You're a pretty rich boy who broke all his toys," Steve glared. "Like you're anymore qualified."
"Aww, you think I'm pretty," Tony crooned, brown eyes batting in a mock-flirtatious manner.
"Fuck you!"
"You see, you keep saying that, but I don't think you mean it," Tony taunted.
"Excuse me?" Steve's lips were pulled back over his teeth, showing off the brilliant white.
"You keep talking about fucking me. I really don't think you will, so unless you plan on backing it up, don't say it," Tony smirked as Steve dropped him. He smoothed down his shirt.
Steve went to walk away, stalking off angrily.
"Hey, Cap!" Tony called out. The super soldier paused, but he didn't turn around.
"Fuck you," Tony purred.
He didn't see the shocked look on Steve's face as he hurried out of the room.
XXX
Later that night, after Steve had sobered up, he took a shower. He felt like shit over everything. No matter how mouthy Tony got, he didn't have the right to be a bully. No one had that right.
He stood under the hot stream as he remembered Tony, just before he left. His voice, the low hum, "Fuck you." Normally he found language like that crass, though coming from the military he had heard it often enough. He had used it enough himself. But coming from Tony, in the context…he felt himself grow hard as shivers raked through his body. The memory of how close they had been, warm body pressed to warm body, their breaths, both smelling of Woodford, mingling in the limited space between them, made him regret not taking the playboy right then and there. Against the wall, on the floor, on top of the table- anywhere would have done the trick.
Steve resisted the urge to touch himself, and instead willed his erection away. He needed to apologize to Tony. Only apologize, despite how tempting it would be to…nope, just apologizing.
Steve pulled on his sleep pants, blue cotton things, and made his way to Tony's room. When he got there, he knocked on the door lightly. He heard Jarvis announce his presence to its master. There was a sound as Tony stumbled out of bed, then he was there, opening the door.
"What?" he asked, rubbing his eyes before focusing on Steve.
"I wanted to apologize," Steve said. "My behavior was inappropriate. What happened wasn't your fault, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"Well…thanks; it's not the worst thing someone has done to me."
"Um, you're welcome, I guess," Steve shuffled awkwardly.
"Good night, Cap," Tony sighed, looking for the world that all he wanted was twelve more hours of sleep. His hair was a wreck, there were crease marks on his skin, and he had stubble forming quickly across his face. Steve thought he had never seen something so attractive.
"Yeah, uh, good night," Steve went to turn around, but he stopped himself. "I would have done it, you know."
"Done what?"
"Followed through," Steve gulped. Tony still looked confused. "Fuck you," Steve said softly. Tony's eyes widened in shock before getting a slightly dazed, aroused look in them. His gaze traveled up and down the bare chested soldier, noticing how his sleep pants had tented. Steve noticed Tony was in much the same state as he was and resisted the urge to jump him.
Tony met his eyes again, very pleased with what he saw. Blue eyes bore into brown, and he got goosebumps up his arms.
"Steve, would you like to come in?"
At the sound of his name, his real name, Steve licked his lips.
"Sounds delightful."