Author: Salios

Fandom: Harry Potter/Avengers Crossover

Pairing: Harry Potter/Steve Rogers (Cpt. America)

Rating:
T-M

Warning: This story will contain male/male relationships, including intimacy ranging from light kissing to possible sex. Swearing, and descriptions of violence and gore also possible.

Disclaimer: I do not own either fandom or their associated characters; this is a fan piece and not written for profit.

Earl Grey and Apple Pie.

Chapter 9

It took Steve a minute to find the kettle and tea supplies, though he didn't mind as it gave him time to think. Harry was something else... What, exactly, he had no clue. But the other man was certainly surprising and enticing in all sorts of ways that didn't entirely have to do with sex (not that he was think about sex, thank you very much). He'd obviously had an 'interesting' life up to this point if his obviously condensed and edited life story was anything to go by. Harry's use of grapples and holds during their earlier tussle told Steve that the Brit had been thoroughly trained, though outside of those few moments the only indicator of a soldier was how Harry held himself. The word 'retirement' came to mind, and Steve snorted softly. Retirement; that was something he would love to one day try his hand at. He steeped the tea until it was strong and black before adding a bit of milk and sugar to both and carrying them back to the two men still seated by the fire. He gave Harry half a second of warning before he sat down in his previously vacated spot. 'Hah, take that!' he thought with a smirk.

Harry kicked him.

Then he took his tea and curled back up the way he had been, toes resuming their odd massage against the meat of Steve's thigh. Bruce snickered at them and Steve merely rolled his eyes. Any reputation he might have had as a battle hardened soldier was likely null and void at this moment, thanks to a certain someone. Harry glanced at him over the rim of his cup, eyes crinkled in silent laughter. Steve had to force his lungs to expand again and thought faintly, 'I'd kiss Fury if it meats seeing that look again.' He smiled back.

Harry continued to knead Steve's thigh with his toes, drink his tea, and carry on his conversation with Bruce as though all three were common occurrences in his everyday life. Steve merely closed his eyes and drank his own tea. He allowed the softly accented words, soft cushions, and the rhythmic flickering of the great fireplace to lull him into a trance. He stayed that way until something soft impacted his face and rocked his thankfully empty teacup. He opened his eyes into slits and glared first at Bruce, who was snickering behind his hand, and then at the Englishman who was trying and failing to appear innocent. Harry had relocated his mug to the floor and out of the way, smart man. Steve mimicked the brunette before taking action. Harry's arms were crossed over his chest, behind his bent knees which gave Steve the opening he needed. He snapped one hand forward in a feint to Harry's open right flank and as the brunette leaned towards the incoming appendage Steve's other hand snapped out and began prodded his exposed left side. The effect was instantaneous as Harry burst into loud, breathless laughter and trying in vain to swat away Steve's devilish fingers. Harry had ensured his own defeat before this battle had begun; his crossed arms were held in place by his own knees, pressed close by Steve's chest as he leaned over the brunette to reach his ribs. Steve pressed his advantage, he held onto the back of the loveseat with his left hand, bracing his weight to lean forward. His grin was wide and bright, eyes crinkling. His fingers danced along Harry's ribs and back before brushing at the crease of his underarm and then back down to his sensitive waist. Soon enough Harry admitted defeat, though it took Steve a few moments to realize Harry was attempting to call out, "I quit! I can't! P-please!"

Steve ended his torture and replaced the strikes with soft strokes of his fingertips. When Harry finally caught his breath and looked up from where he'd rested his head on his knees, his nose brushed Steve's. They seemed to fall back into this position often. Harry was so conscious of Steve's closeness that he went cross-eyed trying to watch the blonde's nose. Steve snorted gently and actually leaned forward to bump the tips of their noses. Harry's response was to scrunch his up and look down at it curiously.

That was about the time that Bruce and Steve gave up. Both men burst into laughter, Steve resting his forehead on Harry's raised knees, arm still curled around the back of the loveseat, his shoulders shaking. Bruce was holding his stomach as he let out great guffaws of laughter that were steadily causing him to slide down the chair cushions. The inevitable 'thump' of his behind hitting the wood flooring merely brought about another round of giggles from the two. Harry simply huffed in indignation and pried a hand loose to ruffle Steve's perfectly parted hair into a mess. He did so with glee and merely answered the blonde's glare with a Cheshire grin. Harry gently shoved Steve back with the heel of his hand on the blonde's forehead.

"Oi, that's enough of that, no more laughing at poor abused me. I don't think my dwindling ego," here he narrowed his eyes at Steve dramatically, "can take much more of you two." Harry's shove didn't send Steve far and he didn't remove his palm from the American's forehead. His fingers were buried in the pale strands, small tufts poking out from between the digits. Steve's cheeks were flushed slightly and he tried very hard not to close his eyes in bliss. His feelings for Harry, he'd given up denying them because really it was obvious to even him that the brunette held sway over his heart. Steve leaned into the touch and smiled shyly at Harry from around his wrist. The other man's sleeve was pulled back slightly and Steve could see small white swirls against his tanned skin. More scars. He knew better than to ask about them, but that didn't mean he wasn't curious. That was a discussion for later, much later, when they were both willing and comfortable and not fearful of their own secrets. Harry kneaded the blonde's scalp for a second and then retreated, laying his arm back across his lap.

"Bruce, did you have any preferences for books? Since, if you hadn't noticed, this is a bookstore." He grinned and Bruce, still breathing heavily from his laughter and on the floor, grinned back.

"I didn't come here with anything in mind, but I suppose it wouldn't be right to leave empty-handed." He paused, thinking, "I realize you don't carry much on technology or science, but what about mathematics? I love puzzles and equations."

"Hmm... I might have something..." Harry hummed softly, chewing his lower lip in thought. It didn't take long before he sat up straight and grinned, looking very pleased. "There's one thing I have that might work, give me a moment to find it." He stood after giving Steve another playful shove with his sock feet and loped to the back. They could hear the sound of creaking stairs and a door opening, signalling Harry had retreated upstairs into his apartment.

Mimicking Harry's earlier slouch, Steve splayed his broad frame over the cushions of the loveseat, legs hanging over the armrest. His head was pillowed on the warm spot Harry had left behind and he hummed in appeasement. He was likely to just fall asleep here and not get up for days. He didn't even mind that half of him wasn't even on the couch.

"What aren't you telling me...?" Steve started at Bruce's soft whisper, opening his eyes and glancing over at the scientist. He'd pulled himself back up into the large chair and was watching Steve, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. Bruce was too quick, too observant. He saw things that no one else did but knew better than to blurt out his observations. He wasn't conniving like Natasha or Clint. After nearly a year working as a team he still didn't trust the two agents, knowing that as close as they were to becoming friends their loyalty would always be to Fury. Bruce kept most of what he learned to himself because he was used to keeping a low profile, not because he was intending to use it down the line to his own advantage.

Steve rubbed a hand down his face before he answered, carefully wording his response. "He kind of...draws me in..." He quirked a weak smile at Bruce who returned it with one of his own, "I've only spent time with him once before, when we met a few weeks ago." Steve glanced down as his hands clenched and unclenched on his knees. He didn't know how to explain what Harry was to him, or how the shorter man made him feel. He was saved from further verbal floundering by Bruce's hesitant voice.

"...He's like that first scent of home. Like a warm blanket and deep calm in the middle of utter chaos. Things that didn't make sense before, that you couldn't quite grasp, somehow become understandable and easy." Steve looked up, watching the lines of Bruce's face as he answered his own question. "He isn't demanding or compelling, not in the least. It's like he's holding out what he has to offer without expecting you to take it. And if you don't, he won't be offended." Steve could only nod in agreement, not sure if Bruce could see him. The scientist glanced up and met Steve's eyes with his. The iris was a gradient of colour, the blue of his own eyes fading into the vibrant green of the Hulk's. Both parts of the man were awake and attentive. Both halves stared out of one body at Steve and though he should have felt fear he merely felt calm.

It made sense. Steve had been apart from the world around him for most of his life. He'd spent years trying to become like everyone around him just to fit in, but the moment he got close to his goal it changed on him. Before he had been too weak, too slow, too small, and imperfect, now he was too strong, too fast, too big, and too perfect. He couldn't win, and that was a wound that had been left to fester. Meeting Harry had changed that. He didn't feel hollow anymore, defeated or without purpose. If Bruce's words were to be believed, he'd felt the same loosening in his chest.

They didn't have anything to say to each other after that, content to enjoy the warmth of the fireplace and the smell of old books. It wasn't long before Steve's ears picked up the sound of soft footsteps coming back down the staircase. They touched down onto the shop floor and stopped. Steve cocked his head to the side and strained his ears; nothing. Maybe Harry had grabbed the wrong book? He opened his eyes, moving to sit up, only to find himself nose to nose with the Brit.

Steve yelped. He also swore and, without thinking, took a swing at Harry. The brunette easily dodged and flicked the tip of Steve's nose in retaliation. The blonde scowled and sat up, shifting until his spine was against the armrest behind him. His feet still hung over the edge. Harry merely raised one dark brow at him and pulled over a side table from another ring of chairs. He then plopped a pile of books on top and looked at Bruce expectantly. Steve was still mildly annoyed at Harry's stealth and the flick to his nose, but also ashamed that he had once again swung at his friend. His blow hadn't connected this time and Harry had easily dodged, even with Steve's enhanced speed. The Brit had been expecting Steve to react instinctually; he'd been provoking Steve. That didn't do more than make the blonde's mouth twist unhappily.

"So I had an idea what to send you home with, but I have a few options." He gestured at the stack of books, "these are all on the same subject, arithmancy, which is probably the closest topic I have to mathematics." He rubbed the back of his head and smiled sheepishly. Bruce glanced at Steve, who shrugged in response mouthing, 'I have no idea'.

"Arithmancy is the study of..." Bruce let his sentence trail off expectantly.

Harry flushed so red Steve could see the tips of his ears pinken.

"Ah, well, I don't really know to be perfectly honest," Harry coughed again. "I took the class for a month, realized I would have a better chance of my Po – Chemistry Professor being nice than understanding the topic, and dropped it. I grabbed a few to hopefully find one that's descriptive enough for you to start with." He shook his head and sat down, flustered. Which meant that since Steve was still lounging comfortably on the stunted couch Harry plopped himself down on Steve's lap. Steve's eyes promptly grew to the size of saucers, his hands clenched against the back and side of the loveseat, and he tried to keep very, very still. He also threatened his lower half against enjoying this in any way, shape, or form. He was only partially successful on the latter of his actions. The warmth Harry's behind radiated made his jeans feel far too tight, and the long-fingered hand that had fallen to grip his thigh by instinct felt like a band of heated steel. He was done for. Any shreds of denial left in his skull were now truly and utterly gone. Now to keep any dignity he hadn't already lost.

Bruce watched them, taking in Steve's wide eyed stare and slack jaw and Harry's undoubtedly red face. The little shocked squeak Harry had emitted had gone right to Steve's groin. It hadn't gone unnoticed if the Cheshire grin on Bruce's was anything to go by.

"Well then Harry, if we split the pile," he leaned forward and picked up the topmost book from the pile casually. His eyes flicked away from the other two men for a second and then focused on Steve's face.

'Oh no, no no no no no. Bruce you little shit, don't you dare – !'

With an underhand throw, Bruce tossed the book towards the two of them, barely sex feet away. He'd purposefully aimed high. The arc of the toss resulted in Harry pushing off the ground with his toes, body tense and back slightly arched. He caught the book easily with an outstretched hand just behind him, and has Steve not been so busy focusing on his own rising (hah) issues, he would have been a bit impressed by the blur of Harry's hand as it shot out to catch the projectile. Ultimately this left Bruce looking very pleased, Harry mildly annoyed, and Steve panting from exertion.

'Honestly who does that? What happened to the supposed 'bro-code'? ...I need better friends...' Steve alternated glaring at his crotch and at Bruce.

"Rule number one, no throwing my books!" Harry scowled then promptly pelted the old textbook back at Bruce, its spine impacting the scientists head and bouncing off. "I'm the only one allowed to throw things at people." He smirked at Bruce's glare and leaned against the back of the loveseat. His right hand returned to Steve's thigh and his left settled on the blonde's stomach. Steve was rather lightheaded; both from the lack of blood in his upper body and the lack of air in his lungs. Apparently he didn't need to breathe.

'Okay, Steve, relax. It's alright, nothing to worry about, just two friends...touching...' He gulped, 'completely platonic, no untoward thoughts, nope none at all. Harry isn't drawing circles on your stomach, nope. He isn't planted perfectly at all; he's sitting on your...stomach...' Steve really was terrible at lying to himself. He was also terribly conflicted when Harry stood and stepped towards Bruce. Steve took this blessed opportunity to sit up and drop his feet back onto the floor. He sincerely doubted he'd survive another instance like that. 'At least today', his brain offered. He promptly shot it with a mental pistol.

"Give it here," Harry took the earlier projectile from Bruce, who was still rubbing absently at his head. He opened the cover and glanced inside before closing it and handing it back. "That one's a seventh year textbook, see how thick it is?" He put the thicker book aside and took up a smaller one that was in almost perfect condition, a fond smile on his lips, "this is a second year book, and more likely to be of use." He passed it to Bruce who opened the cover and glanced at the introduction. He nodded after a moment and closed it, tucking the text under his arm and standing.

"Sounds good to me, I like the added challenge of it. How much do I owe you?" Bruce paused in reaching for his wallet as Harry shook his head. "I can't take it for free Harry."

"Yes, you can; that book was originally owned by a good friend of mine. You remind me a lot of her. She'd likely be thrilled with you taking it home." He gave Bruce a stern look when the other man made to argue.

"Why does he get something for free?" Steve couldn't help it; he grinned and prodded Harry's back with a finger, noticing how the brunette's shoulders twitched.

Harry glanced back at him with raised brows, "because he's better looking than you." He didn't even hesitate to reply, voice deadpan. Steve's jaw actually dropped. Bruce promptly snorted and covered his mouth, obviously trying not to laugh.

Steve spluttered for a moment, scrabbling for something to reply with and settled on crossing his arms and hunkering down into the seat with a glare. Harry merely laughed at him and reached out to shake Bruce's hand. He led the other man out and waved goodbye from the door before flipping the sign to 'closed' and pulling down the shades. It was only early afternoon at that point and Harry didn't usually close until much later, or so the sign listing his hours of operation stated. Finished his task, Harry spun on one foot and practically sauntered back to where Steve was still eyeing him moodily from the loveseat. Harry shuffled the stack of books over and then sat on the vacant table. He rested his forearms on his thighs and met Steve's gaze.

'I'll have to go back and redo some of my sketches; his eyes are much, much brighter...' Steve's arms relaxed and slid until they were resting loosely on his bunched stomach, his frame still slouched on the loveseat. Harry's eyes were still vibrantly green, but the darker evergreen had grown, leaving only a thin ring of fresh grass around the pupil and outer edge. Steve's gaze ran over Harry's pert nose, up across one brow, over a faded scar on his forehead, and to the fringe of black silk that shadowed one eye. He could feel Harry analyzing his own face and held still. He didn't feel the need to hide. He had his own secrets but those weren't blaringly obvious, and his attraction to Harry hadn't been well hidden in either instance they'd met. Steve wasn't afraid; nervous oh hell yes, but not afraid.

So when he sat up, shuffling to the edge of the cushion and mimicked Harry's hunched stance he was pleased that the other man didn't move. And when Steve jerked forward and grabbed the back of Harry's head with his left hand to smash their mouths together, Harry merely sighed and kissed back.