Art Within Ourselves

Rating: M

Pairings: Stony (StevexTony), light Stucky (StevexBucky), and Clintasha (Clint BartonxNatasha Romanoff).

Warning: ManxMan if that's not your thing this is not for you.

Disclaimer: I own like nothing, But if I did STony would be even more canon than it is now (seriously, read the comics, Stan Lee ships STony, or at least somebody does.)

Notes: Also I would like to say in advance I mean no disrespect to any veterans or to our founder fathers. Steve's feelings (and artwork) are a reflection of those that are mentioned in the comics and his experiecnce is not to be judge as anything other than fiction.

Steve sighed and set down his paint brush, surveying the canvas before him. He frowned, he just couldn't seem get the painting just right, something always seemed off about it. The flow of movement looked forced, the highlights and shadows seemed more reminiscent of moonlight than the red twilght that stained the background.

Steve sighed again, he didn't even know why he continued this, Who the heck would like this shit anyway. . .

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

Tony grunted as he pulled his heavy bag down from the overhead compartment. The travel bag fell and landed on his shoulder. He swore sharply and picked it up, making his way down the aisle of the plane.

Tony Stark was was an art dealer who worked for a gallery in New York. . . albeit one who hadn't found something truely phenomenal in far too long. Tony was in town in hopes that one of painters he usually bought from would have something good.

Truth be told if he couldn't find something on this trip, he'd have to start looking for alternative employment. Tony sighed as he waved down a taxi, if only there was someone in this town who had something truely remarkable. . .

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

Steve paid the cashier and took his bags, starting home, laden with ramen noodles, frozen vegetables, and a rottisery chicken. He would cook the ramen and vegetables, throwing in the chicken at the end. He tried to at least attempt to eat some what well on his army pension, he would love to cook amazing things every night if he could.

He sighed as he thought of where his two tours had left him. Eight years later, barely able to make ends meet, and all alone. Steve lifted his hands to breath on them. It was almost April but the air still turned to ice in his lungs and fire on his skin. The nights were even colder, especially when all that kept him warm were the blankets he piled over himself.

He hadn't always been alone, there had been a girl once, with dark brown hair and bright eyes that sung out to him every morning. . . But she had left him, He had come back changed she said. He was no longer the man she had known, the man she had fallen in love with. And she was right, he wasn't. That man had died in the sands of the Iraqi desert, along with his faith. In his world, his nation, even himself.

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

Tony dropped his bags on the floor and fell onto the hotel bed, his look coat billowing out behind him. He lay there, with his face smashed into the pillow for a long time, only moving when his cellphone suddenly rang.

Tony brought it up to his ear. "Yes?"

"Hey there Tony, sorry I couldn't pick you up from the airport." Clint Barton, Tony's best painter, talked about a mile a minute most of the time, and this time was no exception.

"I was wondering if you had any plans for your first night in or if you'd like to get out of that hotel room, there's a hot new club that's opened up since the last time you were here, it's just your scene, lots of artist hang out there maybe you'll find someone new so you can finally dump my ass like you've always wanted. So what do you say?" Clint finally stopped.

Tony sat up and rubbed his face. "I don't know, I'm kind of tired from my flight. . . "

"Aw come on man, that's not the Tony Stark I know."

Tony chuckled, it was true, he'd never been one to turn down a night on the town. "Alright Clint, you got me. Where is this place? Or will you be

picking me up?"

Clint let out a "Woop!" before he answered gleefully. "Me and Natasha will pick you up around 7, deal?"

Tony raised his eye brows, "Natasha?"

Clint chuckled nervously, "She's my new muse, this girl's something else Tony, you'd like her." Clint paused, "But just to be clear, she's mine."

Tony chuckled, "I'm not much in the mood for women these days Clint, so she's all yours."

"Good." Clint said firmly.

Tony laughed again, "I'll see you at 7."

"See you then."

Tony hung up his cell and tossed it onto the bed as he made his way to the shower. He hadn't been lying about not really being into women right now. But that didn't mean he didn't hope to meet someone tonight, it was just that he was more in the male market right now.

And who knows, maybe the right guy for tonight would be there, and maybe, if Tony was lucky, he'd be an artist. . .

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

Steve finished the few dishes and prepared to go out. It was Friday, which meant he was meeting Sam Wilson, another veteran and a talented jazz guitarist, at Zanzibar, a club that had opened up just last summer. Steve went to his closet and surveyed his choices, finally settling on a pair of dark jeans and a white v-neck. As he walked out the front door he snagged his leather jacket, making sure his keys and cellphone were in the pockets.

As he hopped on his motorbike he wondered vaguely if he would meet anyone tonight. . . it had been a while since he'd been in a relationship of any kind. And after Peggy had left him he hadn't reallly wanted to. But then there had been a man at the club last Christmas that Steve had met, another soldier.

Steve never caught his name, and had taken to simply refering to him as "the winter soldier".

The man had seduced Steve back to his hotel room. . . and Steve would never forget that night.

The night he learned a little bit more about himself. The night he'd crossed a line he could never go back from, and he realized, even if he could never love another woman, maybe he could find love somewhere else. . . In the arms of a man.

They would be strong arms, arms that could hold him tight, that could chase away his nightmares, the ones that had haunted him since he'd come back. He now longed to find someone like that. someone who could bring him back from the edge he'd so often danced.

And who knows, maybe he'd find that someone tonight. . .

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

Tony stood in a corner, quietly nursing his scotch and watching Natasha and Clint taking over the dance floor. He could see why Clint liked her. Natasha was a Russian-American woman with green eyes and dark red hair that fell over her shoulders in seductive curtains. Her bearing was more that of a fighter than the dancer she claimed to be, and her mouth, whether set in a frown or curved in a smile was enough to make Tony question if he was really no longer in the market for female companionship. but then he had remembered the last woman he'd been with. The curator of the gallery, Pepper Potts. A woman he should've known to stay away from. It was obvious at a glance that she was the type that domesticated men like him, and Tony would never allow himself to be domesticated.

He was not going to be that perfect husband, who was soft hearted and forgot where he put his glasses when he wanted to read the morning paper. Or who would remember every birthday and anniversary, and celebrate it to the nines every single time. Women were too much work for him. He really just didn't understand them.

Tony lit a cigarette and sighed as he contiued to contemplate the conudrum that was the female gender of the human spieces.

Tony was pulled from his philosophical musings by the entrance of a god into the bar. . .

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

Steve pushed throught the door of Zanzibar's and breathed in the heady scent of sweat, smoke, and beer. Scents he didn't really enjoy, but that still brought a smile to his face. This was his place.

He spotted Sam on the stage near the bar and made his way over. He gave Sam a nod and a wave before ordering a drink. As he waited he surveyed the room, trying to pick out any new faces. All the usually crowd were there, Maria and Phil were in a corner chatting with Sharon, Steve decided to steer clear of them. Sharon could just not take the hints he'd tried to drop to her that he just wasn't interested.

Steve's eyes continued to wander, passing over Clint and his new girl who Steve had yet to be introduced to, and settling on a man over in the corner that Steve had never seen before.

He wasn't tall, but he was too short either. He was the comfortable tan of someone who was born that way but never saw the sun. His short black hair was styled just so and his goatee was meticulously shaved, and he was watching Steve rather closely with his large brown eyes.

Steve looked him over. Nice face, nice body, fit, mid- 30's to early 40's, intellegent looking (Steve wasn't sure what about him made him think that, he just seemed to radiate it).

Steve found himself thinking that this guy looked like he could be worth his time.

Steve was trying to figure out how to approch him when Sam sat down next to him.

"Hey man!" Sam said clapping him on the shoulder. "How's it going."

Steve smiled and chuckled, "Okay man, that piece I've been working on is still giving me trouble though, I just can't stay satistfied with it."

Sam nodded his head, understanding. "Just leave it alone for a bit and then come back to it later." He said, "That always works for me when I've got a song that just won't flow right."

Steve hummed, "Yeah, I'll try it."

Sam raised his glass to him, "Well I've got to get back up there, But I'll be back ok?"

"Alright, you sound great tonight by the way!"

Sam shot him a thumbs up as he settled into his seat and nodded to Nicholas, the pianist.

Steve again turned to look at the man across the room. To his surprise he'd been joined at his table but Clint and his date.

The trio were laughing together, the man obviously entertaining them with some story. And judging by the indignant looks that Clint was giving him it was about the artist in question.

Steve decided he was just going to go for it. So he picked himself up off the bar stool and walked over to the trio, beer in hand.

"Steve! fancy seeing you here." Clint said jokingly, as he approached

Steve chuckled. "Your remember Natasha Romanoff, from the other night?" Clint asked. Steve nodded to her, she returned it curtly. "And this is my friend Tony Stark, he's an Art Dealer who's in town looking for some fresh talent, you two should talk."

Tony extended his hand "You're an artist?" He asked.

Steve nodded, "I paint mostly war and post-war surrealism, I'm sure it's nothing you would be interested in."

Tony smiled at him, "I'm actually from New York, and after 9/11 war paintings are in high demand."

Steve was surprised, "Really? Well even so, I don't think my work is really what you're looking for."

"Well I'd love to check it out, if you'd let me."

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

Tony eyed the walking wet dream that was sitting next to him. Steve and he had been talking for awhile about art and music, He'd even gotten Tony to open up about his writing, the screenplay he was working on, and about how the art dealer thing was supossed to be temporary and he wished he had the courage to quit.

Tony found he was really enjoying himself. That really didn't happen to him too often. This guy was perfect, in appearance and personality. . . And Tony really wanted to get into his pants.

"So. . . I wasn't lying before, I'd really love to see your paintings." Tony said, scooching closer to the soldier.

"Well. . . "Steve was hesitant, but Tony gave him a pleading look.

"Look, I'll level with you. I'm beat from my flight and I'd really love to get out of here. So what do you say? Can I see them?"

Steve's eyes ran over Tony's face in surprise. Could it really be this easy to get this man back to his house? Steve shook the though from his head, this guy was an art dealer, he was an artist, he just wanted to get out of here and see his paintings, nothing to get excited about.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked.

"Positive." Tony said and pointed over his shoulder at Clint and Natasha who were slow dancing together. "They'll be glad to not have to take me home anyway, I'm sure."

Steve smiled, and tried to ignore what that statement implied, not For Natasha and clint, but for them. "Well then, I hope you're okay with Motorcycles, cause that's how I got here."

Tony's face lit up with a relieved smile. "I love them."

Steve heart jumped into his throat at that smile, "Let's go then." He said quickly.

They got up, paid and made their way out of the club. As an after thought as they were walking out the door Steve sent a text to Sam,

Hey, sorry to leave early, got lucky.

The reply came as they were getting on to Steve's bike.

LOL, good luck man. ;)

Steve blushed and tucked his phone into his pocket as he started the bike and roared out of the parking lot.

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVO

Tony was enjoying himself, pressed up against Steve Rogers' broad back, his arms wrapped around his fit waist. He could even feel Steve's abs throught his thin shirt because his jacket was open. He was enjoying the ride so much that it seemed like it was mere moments bewteen their departure from the club and their arrival in Steve's drive way.

The neighborhood was quiet, and the neighbor's lights were all off. "Nice place," Tony said as they stepped in the front door of the bungalow style house.

"Thanks, it was my uncles, he left it to me when he died, it was a real blessing." Steve said as he clicked on the light.

Tony nodded. "So," He said clasping his hands, "Where are these paintings?"

Steve motioned Tony to follow him through to the back of the house where Steve had turned the sunporch into his studio.

"Sorry it's such a mess." He apologized, straightening up a few of the paints and canvas' that were strewned everywhere.

Tony waved the apology away. "I'm an art dealer, I've seen more than my fair share of messy studios. And your's is actually fairly organized." Tony said with a laugh.

Steve blushed happily, and laughed softly "Thanks."

Tony wandered throught the studio, running his fingers over the tops of canvas', stopping finally at the painting Steve had been working on that afternoon, still on the easel.

"What's this?" Tony asked intriqued.

Steve walked over, "Just something I'm working on, one of the surrealism pieces I mentioned.

Tony ghosted his finger's over the images. There were two men, lock in a struggle or embrace, it was hard to tell. Both had painted skin. one was all gold and red, with gears showing through his wounds and his limbs reminiscent of a cyborg. The other was star spangled, he wore a mask/helmet variation with wings coming from it's sides, and he bled gold coins that trickled down to become a line of crawling babies, his lips were sealed with a hundred dollar bill, only Benjamin Franklin had the Nazi symbol in scars under both eyes.

The machine man was straddling the spangled man's hips, their hands were clasped and straining against each other, the machine man was leaned over the other, his face covered by a robotic mask, so his expression was unreadable.

The sky behind them was lit with explosions and a red and gold sunset. Tanks rolled throught fields of poppys, dropping severed limbs in their wake and spewing red lasers.

Tony stared at the painting for a long time, taking in every little detail, down to the tiny transparent devil whispering in to the spangled man's ear, and the angel that hovered by the machine man's shoulder.

Tony leaned back and turned to Steve, who had been shifting nervously. "This is amazing." Tony said, the awe clear in his voice, "When you said you did war and post-war scenes I was not expecting this. it's truely spectacular." Tony finished, moving to place a hand on Steve's shoulder. "I am prepared to offer you quite a lot of money for this."

Steve's eyebrow raised, thought not just because of the offer. "Really? You really think it's that good?"

Tony placed his other hand on Steve's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "I can honestly say," Tony's voice grew husky as he leaned in closer. "That that is one of the most breathtaking pieces I have seen in a long time, and possibly ever." With that Tony took a chance and plunged in to kiss Steve firmly.

Steve was startled, but he didn't pull away. Instead he pulled the other man closer. Tony licked at the soldier's lips, gaining access to his mouth. Steve held back a moan as Tony's tongue assulted his own. He let his hands slip down to grasp the shorter man's ass, pulling their hips together. Tony growled into Steve's mouth as he ground against him. Pulling away Tony looked searchingly into the other man's eyes.

"I know this is a bit fast and all but. . . Bedroom?"

Steve's mind was slow from lack of oxegen, but when he finally caught on he lifted Tony up into his arms.

"Woah!" Tony was surprised at the sudden lack of ground beneath his feet, but when he fell against the other man's wide chest he forgot what the ground even felt like. 'Guess that's my answer.' He thought.

Steve gently carried Tony to his bedroom, the bed was still unmade, but the room was clean, if a bit cluttered. He laid Tony carefully onto the bed and Tony was touched by the soldier's gentleness. 'This guy is something else.'

"Shit, how the heck did I manage to snag a guy like you?" Tony asked caressing Steve's cheek.

Steve leaned into the hand and kissed it, before knocking his head against it like a needy puppy. Tony felt his heart melt, This guy had a story, he could tell. . . And after he got his brains fucked out he would find out what it was, but for now all he really wanted to do was get Steve out of those very flattering jeans.

Luckily Steve had the same idea and as he leaned in for another kiss he gently undid Tony's pants, pulling them down and off, while Tony pulled off the soldier's shirt, revealing a toned chest and a set of wash board abs, both of which were covered with a map of scars. Tony traced them lovingly, and Steve shivered, letting out a gasp when the trail lead Tony to one of his nipples. He whimpered as Tony rolled the nipple between his fingers.

Tony pulled back from the kiss and set instead on attacking Steve's neck, covering him with hickeys and kisses, letting his hands wander down to Steve's dark jeans, undoing the button and zipper he slipped his hand inside. basking in the other man's gasps and moans as his finger's closed around Steve's already aching cock. The soldier was huge, and Tony wondered briefly if he could get on top some how. . .

But then Steve suddenly overcame his shyness and he pushed Tony down onto the bed, reaching for something in his bedside table.

"You aren't adverse to blow jobs are you?" Steve asked quirking an eyebrow as he wiggled down to Tony's knees. The Winter soldier had taught him how enjoyable giving, and not just recieving, a blow job could be.

"Fuck no." Tony said breathlessly.

Steve smirked and pulled off Tony's boxers, letting his cock spring free. Tony hissed when Steve's cool hands wrapped around him, and then again when the coolness was off set by the heat of his mouth. Tony moaned as Steve took him deep into his mouth and nearly whined when he felt himself hit the back of Steve's throat.

Holy shit.

Steve sucked at Tony's cock as he warmed the lube he had gotten from his bedside table. He pushed Tony's legs up for better access and began lightly teasing Tony's entrance. The other man moaned needily, bucking his hips when Steve pushed in a single finger.

"Oh god, Steve!" Tony moaned.

Taking that as a good sign Steve began thrusting his finger in and out of Tony's tight hole, adding a second after a short while. Tony's back arched off the bed as Steve dove in deep enough to brush his prostate.

The brunett could feel himself reaching the edge. "S-Steve, I'm. . .I'm gonna cum soon." He panted, gripping the sheets tightly.

Steve simply hummed and continued. his finger's pistoning in and out of Tony's ass, his warm mouth pleasured Tony's cock while his other hand massaged his balls.

Tony was a mess, he tried to keep his moans and whines in, but some still managed to slip past his lips. This had to be one of the best blow jobs he'd ever gotten. If this night ended just like this he wouldn't be terribly disappointed (well maybe a little but not a lot).

Luckily thought Steve had no intentions of letting the night end there.

When Tony came with a shout Steve sucked him dry and then pulled his fingers out, leaning back to take in the sight before him. Tony's eyes were unfocused, his lips parted and kiss swollen, his cheeks flushed. Steve chuckled as he crawled back up to lay beside him.

"You enjoy that?" He asked, scooting closer to Tony.

Tony turned his head to look into the other man's eyes. "Hell yes." He said as he pushed the other man over, straddling his hips. "Now let's take care of you."

"You don't have to-"

Tony covered Steve's mouth with his own as he grabbed the lube from the bed and poured some on to his hand. He slicked Steve's cock and positioned himself to take it in. Steve held his dick steady as Tony let the heated organ press into him. He moaned as he moved down, taking him in all the way till he was sitting in Steve's lap. The soldier was up on his elbows, watching Tony in awe.

"G-give me a few seconds." Tony panted.

Steve raised a hand to cup Tony's cheek. "Take all the time you need gorgeous." He said softly.

Tony blushed and his cock, which had already been at half mast, stood to attention. He'd always gotten off on compliments, it was one of his oddly normal kinks. After a few moments Tony began to move, lifting his hips and pushing down slowly. Steve set his hands on Tony's hips to help him.

Tony was stretched more than he'd ever been before, and that the twinges of pain added to his pleasure almost made him ashamed, but all thoughts were driven from his head as Steve bucked his hips up to meet Tony's. Soon enough the pace picked up and Tony was bouncing on Steve's lap, his cock slapping Steve's abdomen. But the pace wasn't fast or hard enough for either of them, So Steve pushed Tony back onto to the bed, snapping his hips against Tony's.

Tony screamed as the change of angle caused Steve to slam into his prostate. "Oh god! Steve!" Tony whined as the soldier continued to abuse the bundle of nerves.

Steve coud feel himself getting close, but he wasn't going to cum alone, so he grasped Tony's swollen cock and stroked him firmly as he pounded into him. Before long the brunett was screaming again as he came all over his chest. Steve followed as Tony clenched around him, he tried to pull out but Tony's ankles locked behind his hips, keeping him in place. So he rode out his orgasm wrapped up in the other man.

When he finally pulled out he fell into the bed next to Tony, exhausted.

Tony was staring at the ceiling in shock "Oh. My. God. Can I keep you?" He asked as he snuggled against the other man.

Steve chuckled, but a shadow passed over his features. "Not a lot of people continue to say that after they get to know me I'm not a perfect person, and I'm really not worth people's heartache."

"So? I'm not a perfect person either, nobody is. But I'd sure love to get the chance to decide if you're worth it myself." Tony said, kissing Steve gently on the nose.

Steve smiled, "You don't have to go do you?" he asked Tony gave him a searching look. "Well I have to go see Clint tomorrow morning, but that's at noon." Tony said nuzzling Steve's neck, "And you're welcome to come with me."

Steve pulled back and looked into Tony's eyes, surprise etched on his face. "I am?"

Tony smiled at him, there was that puppy again. "Yeah, I'm not sure where you were wanting or expecting this to go. . . But I'd love for this to be more than a one night stand." Tony said the last bit carefully, most people usually reacted badly when he said that. Mostly because they assumed he just wanted a quicky and wasn't the type to want commitment. But really he was just the opposite, the only reason he was still alone was because he'd never found the right partner.

Steve searched Tony's face carefully before he let himself break into a wide smile. "I'd like this to be more than a one night stand too." He said.

He leaned in for a kiss, Tony met him half way. Their tongues wound about each other in a lazy dance. Tony pulled away first, the more tired of the two of them. Steve smiled down at Tony and shifted to turn off his bedside lamp.

"Good night Tony." Steve whispered, kissing him one last time.

"Good night Steve, see you in the morning." was Tony's hushed reply.

Both men snuggled close, taking comfort in the strong form pressed against them. They fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing one another's warmth.

. . .

For the epilogue go to the next chapter. . .