[A/N sorry I'm late. Bad mood = bad writing.]

Part 10.

"Alright, guys. This is unacceptable." I said, poking at Steve's close-to-deceased-laptop. There was a picture of us, the Avengers, in our NY sweaters some random person had taken and put on the internet. Because people have nothing better to do than take pictures of us and gush about them on the internet, which makes us really cool. Not. Bruce, Natasha, Thor and Clint came to stand behind me, looking over my shoulder. Steve was absent today, still locked up in his room.

"What, it's just a picture, of us. I think it looks kind of nice." Natasha said.

"Well yes, you aren't the one posing as a canary here, alright." I said, eyeing the disgustingly yellow sweatshirt I had pulled myself into.

"I think you don't actually mind," She replied, grinning at me. What was she thinking, that she could just go on and disagree with my opinions. You don't do that, OK.

"What makes you so overly confident?" I asked.

"If you actually wanted it gone, you could have hacked into that website within seconds and it would be gone. I think you like showing off that you actually have friends." I snorted.

"Sure, Natasha. It's not at all like I kept the tab open to show you guys how disgusting fan-bases are." I answered, giving an eye-roll.

"Uhuh, keep telling yourself that." And I would, because I refused to believe that I was giving into a useless emotion such as sentiment. Steve chose that moment to walk up to me, still drunk with sleep. I closed his laptop quickly. Hiding it behind my back, because I believed that Steve was actually stupid/sleepy enough to believe I was not holding something against my back.

"Morning sunshine!" I joked, standing up to give him a hug. No kisses, I'd only kiss him if he asked for it. Because last time I just kissed him without asking… well you know what happened last time.

"JARVIS woke me, convincing me you were in danger and I needed to get up quickly. What the hell, man." Steve said, lightly touching his lips to mine and I actually felt butterflies in my chest because damn! This man actually had the ability to turn men into saps and I wouldn't be surprised if Fury was going to start and compliment people on their 'lovely outfits' after having spent some time with Steve.

"Oh that." I waved it off, "Thor actually tried making coffee using Dummy, who is programmed to be able to do some sort of coffee-making maneuver but usually just ends up throwing boiling water over everyone. I came to the rescue, but whenever dummy sees me he has this weird, weird habit of throwing extinguishing foam all over me." I looked at Steve with big eyes, "that's just cruel, using his fire-extinguishing techniques to molest me!" Steve rolled his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you programmed these techniques into him yourself."

"That makes it even worse!" I cried out, clutching at his tank top. He held one hand against my chest so I couldn't move, and reached behind me to grab his laptop from me. He smiled slightly at the photo.

"We should frame the photo and hand it on the wall or something." He said.

"Yes we should." Natasha was grinning at me again, because she loves to tease me in every possible way. I was almost starting to miss the day when she was undercover as my assistant, and I had the permanent urge to sleep with her. Almost.

"Nooooo" I groaned, trying to grab the laptop from Steve, who just held his hand in place on my chest. "Hey, you're forgetting one thing. You don't even know how to connect your laptop to a printer." I said, putting my hands on my hips and smirking at him.

"Natasha does, and I'm sure she will give me a hand. Won't you?" He asked, and they were both over-acting their innocence and batting eyelashes and all that stuff you do when you are trying to appear like you are not about to make your friend die of shame.

"No, she won't" I said through gritted teeth, giving her my best death glare.

"I think she will." Steve said smugly.

"Yes, I'm looking forward to it." Natasha smiled innocently.

"Go fuck yourselves." I mumbled.

"And let me watch!" Clint called from the couch.

We were having movie night tonight, which meant that all the Avengers would be sitting on and around our over-used couch, and there would be popcorn (which would probably all be consumed by Thor, anyhow). Jane had once again been invited over, and Bruce had asked the girl from the club, because he'd otherwise be the only one without a 'date' (everyone considered Natasha and Clint to be a couple, even when they furiously denied it. 'Love is for children', Natasha would say).

Everyone was sitting ready and on the couch, and I came walking from the kitchen with the popcorn, snacks and cans of soda all balancing on my hand's and pressed against my chest.

"Look, guys, I know it's hard to move for lazy ass people like you. But please, give the weak guy a hand." It was of course completely insane to have me carrying everything while there were a demi-God and a captain on some kind of steroids available. Thor rushed to my side in an instant.

"Brother, you must leave the heavy lifting to guys less vulnerable than you!" He said, waving his hands theatrically and taking a lot of the items from my hands, dumping them on the small table in front of the TV and allowing a bowl of popcorn to empty itself on the ground. Brilliant.

"Thor will be eating from the ground." I announced, flopping down next to Steve. "JARVIS, start the movie, please." I asked my loyal AI, and the gigantic 'I'm rich, bitch'-screaming flat screen lit up.

The movie turned out to be a bad choice. There was a romantic side-plot to the movie featuring two gay males, and how they struggled to belong in a society not as open-minded as we would all have liked it to be. The idea wasn't bad at all, if slightly over-used. However, one of the two was struggling to accept himself, and basically the whole idea was 'How can society accept him, if he doesn't accept himself?', yada yada. I wasn't the only seeing a resemblance between the characters and Steve and me, and careful eyes were darted at us now and then from our worried team-members. Steve and I both stared in the opposite direction, embarrassed and confused and not knowing how to deal with these emotions. When we were nearing the end of the movie, everyone could tell they were going to end up together and proud to be together, and I felt a pang of jealousy when a steamy make-out ensued. Considering I couldn't even give a kiss without permission.. Anyhow, the romantic part of the film left some of us (cough, clint, cough) with some undesired emotions and people were heading to their bedrooms. And there, I TOLD YOU SO, went Natasha and Clint together.

Basically, everyone was getting laid tonight (including the people in the movie, and when a superhero with my looks, fame and money starts to envy people in a film that's really, really sad) except for me.

"I want us to kiss like that." Steve suddenly said, and I didn't know whether that was a good thing (kissing with Steve = Rare & good), or a bad thing (Would this leave me wanting more than I could possibly get from him?).Too bad I've had my mind in the gutter for about 99% of my life, and today wasn't any different.

"Oh, can you get any more cute, awkward and sexy?" I sighed, my eyes roaming over his handsome features and landing on his lips. "You know, you can also scream: Tony, there is nothing I want more right now than your lips on mine, so get to it!" Steve blushed and stammered some unrecognizable words before burrowing his face in my chest. "Or.." I reconsidered, looking at this shy man, "perhaps you should keep doing it your way for the time being. Come on," I lifted his chin with my finger, looking in his eyes for a long time, trying to figure out the hesitation in them.

And perhaps it would have been better to be patient, to ask him what was wrong, to figure this out. But right at that moment I was way too interested in the offered make-out session he had in mind, so I ignored my guilty and screaming consciousness and pressed our lips together with fiery passion. I moved until I was laying on the couch, back flat against the surface and feeling Steve's weight pressing down on me. He leant on one strong arm, while the other was pressed against my stomach and oh, I could think of so many more places that hand should be going. But I reminded myself to lay still, to let him feel in control. He took control of the kiss, tongue exploring my mouth and nipping at the corners at times, and I gasped when he trailed kisses down my neck. His fingers grazed the underside of my tank top and gently began sliding it up, the big, soft palm of his hand moving over my stomach. And that's when that familiar sensation in my stomach grew, and as soon as I felt the stirring between my legs I knew that soon enough he would pull away and I'd be left to cope with my sexual frustration on my own. Right as I thought it, Steve froze, feeling my hard-on and slowly removing his hand from my stomach, sitting up on his knees with one of my legs still trapped between his. I sighed.

"Steve, it's OK."

"No," he shook his head and a tear rolled down his cheek. I sat up, too, and moved towards him, utterly confused and I couldn't help but wonder if Steve was really this sensitive, that he'd cry just because he was afraid to have sexual intercourse with a man.

"Steve what's wrong?" I asked. He shook his head again with multiple tear tracks now running over his cheeks, and reached for the hem of his T-shirt, slowly moving it over his head and that's when I finally understood. Right in the middle of his chest was a burn-mark, an unmistakable "L" burned into the beautiful pale flesh of my Steve.

[A/N eeeh. Yes. Sorry, I will not be late again!]