A/N: I saw Avengers popsicles at the store...and that's pretty much what inspired this whole thing XD I ate 4 of them in the car home after I got them.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except these Avengers popsicles...oh no, I ate them all. Never mind.

Steve was happy when Fury began sending him on missions again. Most of the time, they were just short, clean-up cases and he was heading back home in just a few hours. But Steve didn't care. Anything to get him out of the Tower and get his mind focused on other tasks.

Today's mission had been exceptionally brief. Just a quick two hour jaunt in New Jersey. It wasn't even noon yet and Steve was already waiting for his ride home. At least he had brought his sketchbook to keep him occupied.

After a few minutes, Steve frowned down at the page. Somehow, he had sketched Tony in a lab-filthy tank top, delicately licking an ice cream cone. Steve ripped the page out of the book and crumpled into a ball. No more Tony. He was going to draw...he was...maybe a picture of Clint? Yeah, Clint was a safe subject.

A loud honk jerked Steve's attention from his sketch. There was no sign of Natasha's black Corvette, but there was a shiny silver Maserati pulled up to the curb. Tony stuck his head out the window, grinning around the Popsicle stick in his mouth. "Need a lift, Cap?"

Steve swallowed. "Natasha was supposed to pick me up."

Tony shrugged and shifted the stick to the side of his mouth with his tongue. "Something came up," he said.

Of course it did. Damn Natasha.

Steve set his jaw and reluctantly dragged himself over to the car.

"Excuse the mess," Tony said. He swept Popsicle wrappers off the seat and wedged the box firmly between the two seats. "I just saw these at the store and I had to get them. I just had to."

Steve stared at the box. "Avengers Popsicles? Really?"

"Yup. Well, it's just you, me, and Hulk. We're probably the easiest to make. I mean, what flavor would they make Natasha? Leather?"

Steve wrinkled his nose. "How many of these have you had already?"

"Two so far. I keep getting Hulk. Not that I hate, grape, or anything, but I'm looking forward to an actual Capsicle."

Steve grit his teeth. This was going to feel like the longest drive in his entire life. He shifted in his seat, carefully draping the shield over his lap.

Tony took the stick out of his mouth and peered at it. "Oh hey, they have jokes on these things. 'Why did Whiskers lie down? To take a catnap." He frowned. "That's not even a joke. I'm sure I could come up with something way better."

He rooted around the box and pulled out another cluster of Popsicles. "Open this for me, will you, Cap?"

Steve took the package Tony held out to him and opened it carefully.

"Is it another Hulk?" Tony asked, his eyes still on the road.

"It's uh, black, red, and yellow."

"Yesssss," Tony said. "I've dying to see what I taste like." He took the Popsicle from Steve's hands and licked up the side. "Hmmn, lemon. Do I seem like a citrus to you, Steve?"

"Uhhh, not really?"

Steve really, really didn't want to think about how Tony tasted.

The next few moments were quiet. Tony had jammed the entire Popsicle in his mouth so he had both hands free to navigate a particularly sharp curve. And Steve was studiously looking at the car door instead of Tony.

"Okay," Tony said after they were back on a straight stretch of road. "Hand me another one."

Steve looked over at Tony with surprise. And immediately regretted it as Tony drew the stick slowly out of his mouth, his tongue running over the last vestiges of Popsicle.

He held the next Popsicle out to Tony without looking at it or Tony. It was probably safer that way.

"Hey," Tony said with obvious delight. "An actual Capsicle."

Oh god he was doomed.

Steve watched in horrified fascination as Tony licked and sucked on the Popsicle. This was...this was torture. How was he suppose to survive this? It would be easier to just throw himself out a window and walk the rest of the way home.

"You're my favorite, Cap," Tony declared. "Not apple, as one might, expect." He took another long, slow lick of the Popsicle. "I don't know what flavor you're supposed to be, actually, but I like it."

Oh, he was doomed. So very doomed.