Title: Steppin' Out with You (A Sweet Interlude)
Author: fandommkopf
Fandom: MCU
Disclaimer: If you recognize it from real life or Marvel, I don't own it.
A/N: Inspired by a comics panel of Tony saying that Steve dances in his boxers to the Andrews Sisters. I started this shortly after TWS came out so it's canon up to that and was meant to be compliant after. It would have been at a hypothetical point (maybe circa AoU) when Steve and Sharon were dating and hanging out at her apartment and the Avengers were living in the Tower together sometimes. AU now, or comics universe with vague MCU references. :( So anyway, this has been sitting on my computer for literally years, but Endgame did me so dirty I finally managed to finish it out of spite. Enjoy.
The morning light was still faint as Sharon slipped quietly from bed. Steve had got in late the night before, finally tiptoeing into bed beside her well after she had drifted off, and easing her back to sleep with a light kiss when she had stirred. Tempting as it was to wake him in return, she was still happy to let him sleep in. At least for a little while, since his habit of rising early almost assured he'd be up soon anyway.
Sure enough, after she turned the coffeemaker on and started brushing her teeth, it wasn't long before she heard him moving around the apartment, and a familiar tune drifted into the bathroom from the living room stereo.
Sharon rolled her eyes. "Nngh. Nut thet agun," she mumbled around her toothbrush before spitting and rinsing her mouth.
"Hope you're in the mood because I'm feeling just right…" the Andrews Sisters crooned.
Steve poked his head around the doorway, a smile on his face. "What was that?" he asked innocently.
She wiped her face on the nearby towel and tossed him a pointed look. "You heard me."
As she turned back to the sink he came into the room, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He rested his chin against her shoulder and met her eyes in the mirror.
She leaned into him and laid her arms over his as she looked at his reflection in front of her. "I like the Andrews Sisters as much as the next guy, but really. You have basically the entire musical collection of the world at your fingertips," she extended one arm to gesture to the ceiling, "and you've been listening to this same stuff every morning."
He just smiled at her, then dipped his head. "That's because I'm in the moooood," he murmured along with the song's lyrics before his lips pressed against the crook of her neck.
"Oh my god," she muttered, holding back an amused laugh that threatened to turn into a soft moan.
As his lips worked against her skin, she tilted her head to expose more of it to him. He placed kisses up her neck, then on her temple, and finally on the top of her head, before turning her in his arms.
When they stood face to face, his arms tightened around her waist again, and she slid her hands up his chest to idly trail along the collar of his t-shirt. As her arms draped around his shoulders, he pulled her closer, their bodies flush against each other, and swayed them gently to the beat of the music.
"Everybody must agree the dancing has charm, when you have the certain one you love in your arms."
As he turned them in a circle, she caught sight of his boxers in the mirror.
"Whaaat…"
She knew them all too well. When the Avengers had revealed themselves very publicly to the world in New York, it hadn't taken long for the retail industry to jump on the bandwagon. Replicas of Thor's hammer, giant green Hulk "smash" gloves, Iron Man masks, action figures of everyone. And, as it had turned out, Captain America-themed boxers, his iconic shield centered large and inappropriately on both the front and back.
When Sharon and Sam had discovered their existence, they had agreed immediately—they had to buy him some, just as a joke. He had taken the taunt well, laughing along with them and lightly threatening both with retaliation, and then the offending shorts had seemingly disappeared. As she didn't expect a child of the Great Depression to wantonly waste anything, Sharon had assumed they'd been tucked in the corner of some drawer, potentially of use but likely never to see the light of day again.
But they were back. She hadn't seen them in the late darkness of the apartment the night before, but in the bright light of morning they were impossible to miss.
"What?" he asked hazily of her own question. He wasn't paying much attention, instead nuzzling at her cheek and temple as his hand slipped lower and lower down her back. She was much more interested in that, too, than what he probably wouldn't be wearing for much longer. But she still recognized the opportunity to poke some fun first.
"I can't believe you're actually wearing those. It's called a gag gift for a reason," she taunted, leaning away as she made a retching face.
"No point being wasteful," he shrugged, ignoring the roll of her eyes. He lowered his face to hers again, lips lingering near hers but just out of reach, voice low. "Plus I know you secretly love them." He looked down at her now, the heat in his eyes almost distracting her from his teasing. Almost.
"Completely," she admitted, voice as heavy as his. "But don't tell Sam I said that."
On impulse, she snapped his waistband.
He straightened and looked at her in shock for a moment, and she looked back up at him in amusement, her lips pursed and twitching to fight a smile while her eyes offered a challenge. He accepted it, the shock leaving his face as his eyebrows drew downward and he smirked mischievously.
"Ohhhhh," he warned, tightening his hands on her hips.
Her eyes widened in giddy panic. Smiling with her lower lip trapped nervously between her teeth, she squirmed away with a shriek and dodged the arm that reached out after her. Missing, he braced his hand against the doorway but she ducked artfully beneath it, escaping again. She cleared the bedroom door, glancing back to see him in pursuit, and her shrieks echoed through the hall as she dashed down it in a frenzy. He was only a few steps behind her, and she knew he could easily overtake her if he wanted, but that would be too easy.
The chase continued into the living room, and finally he caught her hand as she rounded the couch and pulled her tight against him, drawing one more now-breathless would-be shriek from her. He hadn't even broken a sweat but he breathed deep with excitement, and he could feel her chest rising and falling sharply against his in answer.
As she twined their fingers together, he stepped closer and forced her to retreat until she bumped against the back of the couch, trapping her there. He released her hands reluctantly and slid his own to her waist and then down to her hips, and he hesitated only a moment before sliding his hands further down to her backside and crouching slightly to lift her. He set her on the back of the couch and finally let his hands rest on her thighs to steady her balance.
Her own hands braced herself against his forearms and she sighed, catching her breath. "You're faster than me. That's never fair," she argued with a slight pout.
He smirked. "Then don't run. You'll just die tired."
"I'm not sure I'd mind it." She looked him up and down appraisingly before settling on his face.
He met her gaze and drummed his fingers gently on her thighs. In welcoming response, she spread her legs and he moved closer, standing between them, their bodies flushed. As he leaned in to kiss her lips, then cheek, then jaw, she shifted against him.
"You're positively, absolutely in the mood," she murmured appreciatively, echoing the song still playing in the background.
He tightened his hold on her hips and groaned against her hair. "You know," he mumbled, "if you hate these so much, I should probably get rid of them."
"Yes, please."
As he pulled her from the couch and up into his arms her legs wrapped instinctively around his hips, and he turned towards the hall that led back into their bedroom. As he walked down it, he picked up speed, prompting another giddy shriek from her as she tightened her arms around his shoulders and laughed against his neck.
The maker had long since shut off and the coffee was cold by the time they really started their day, but it was a fair trade.
A/N: Those boxers 100% actually exist in real life and I regret not owning them.
