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When Fury first suggested a Summer bootcamp for the Avengers, Steve had thought it was a joke. The last time he'd been to camp had been long before the war, and he would be lying if he said he had fond memories of it.
Somehow he didn't think this time would be much different.
“I think we've finally come full circle,” Clint said as they hiked their way up to their respective cabins, weighed down by an oversized backpack each. “All those frat house jokes in the tower, and now we're playing boy scouts. I think I'm aging backwards.”
“Cool your jets, Benjamin Button. We're Adventure Scouts, if anything.” Tony nodded at Natasha and Wanda. “Totally nondiscriminatory, I swear.”
“I think I'd prefer being a SHIELD scout,” Natasha said flatly, casting an unamused look at their leader. “Why are we doing this again?”
“Group-cohesion and team building,” Coulson said without batting an eye. Which was impressive, considering the reactions from the rest of the group, a wide variety of dismissive snorts and booing. “Fury deems it important. That makes it important to me.”
“I deem it a waste of our collective time,” Tony said. He was audibly struggling with the group's grueling pace, but Steve knew he would rather die than suggest a break. That was probably one of those behaviors Fury hoped to correct during this retreat.
Steve personally thought he'd sooner see pigs fly. Luckily he could already see a collection of wooden huts in the distance, so they wouldn't need to test that theory.
“Oh, thank god,” Steve heard Tony mumble when they finally reached the huts, which formed a loose circle around a small clearing. He could see several more open spaces in the forest beyond, some equipped with contraptions that looked suspiciously child-sized and decidedly non-lethal.
“Holy fuck,” Clint breathed, voicing Steve's thoughts. “He actually sent us to a kiddie bootcamp. I hate that I can believe it.”
“Director Fury has assigned each of you to a specific hut,” Coulson said, cool as a cucumber as he pulled a stack of folders out of his giant backpack. He'd carried one just like the rest of them, but he looked like he hadn't even broken a sweat. “We'll meet for group exercises every day, but more importantly, Director Fury has provided me with an individual mission briefing for each of you. All of these mission are unique and have the goal of improving teamwork among the Avengers.”
“What do we get for completing the mission?” Clint asked, and Coulson gave him a placid smile.
“Those who fail to complete their missions will be assigned to quinjet cleaning duty for the upcoming six weeks.”
“Six weeks?” Tony spluttered, but Coulson didn't seem to pay him any mind, tugging a single sheet of paper from among his folders.
“The huts are divided as follows. Hut one, Natasha and Bruce. Hut two, Wanda and Clint. Hut three, Sam and Vision. Hut four, Tony and Steve.”
Steve internally sighed. Fury wasn't even trying to hide his game plan here. Natasha and Bruce still had to work through the mess they had made of their relationship. Wanda and Clint had never quite gotten over their mutual distrust after what happened during their hunt for Ultron. Sam and Vision barely knew each other.
And Steve and Tony? Well, they probably had the most to unpack out of the entire bunch.
“Do we have veto power? Cause I want veto power,” Tony said, and Coulson smiled.
“The person with the taser has veto power.”
Tony tucked his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Duly noted. The person with repulsors would like to request an approximation of said power.”
“Motion denied,” Coulson said calmly. “Now, your missions, should you choose to accept them.”
Clint snorted as Coulson handed each of them a manila folder. “That never gets old, Sir.”
“What never gets old?” Steve asked, and Natasha shook her head.
“It's a movie reference.”
“Franchise, thank you very much,” Tony said, already ripping into his folder with glee. “Way too many movies.”
“There is never too much Mission Impossible.”
“Agree to disagree.”
Steve shook his head, opening his own folder and pulling out the single sheet of paper. He was careful to hide the contents from the rest of the team, reading through the short sentence printed right in the middle.
Make Tony say the words “You win” or “I give up” to you.
Steve frowned. That was his mission? He thought this was supposed to help him in some way, not focus on someone else.
Then again, getting Tony to admit defeat for once instead of constantly fighting with Steve? Yeah, he could see how that might benefit the team.
“Dinner is tonight at six,” Coulson said. “Until then you can get settled in and familiarize yourselves with the terrain.”
Steve looked at his team to find everyone studying each other with their folders pressed to their chests. It was probably safe to assume that their missions also had to do with other people in the group.
He wondered if someone had a mission that concerned him. It would be way too obvious if it were Tony, right?
“Dismissed,” Coulson said, taking his backpack and walking off towards the only single hut on the property. Tony huffed, putting his hands on his hips.
“Alright. Who wants to trade hut buddies? Romanoff?”
“I'm happy where I am, thanks,” Natasha said, ignoring the incredulous look Bruce gave her. “Come on, Bruce. We can toss coins for who gets the bottom bunk.”
“You don't think they'll really put us in bunk beds?” Bruce asked nervously as he followed her to their hut. When Steve turned around, Sam and Vision were already halfway off to theirs. Only Wanda and Clint were still loitering around.
Tony sighed. “I can't believe I'm about to say this.” He turned to Wanda. “Do you want to bunk with Steve? I promise he's house-trained, unlike Clint.”
“Up yours, Stark,” Clint said as Wanda shook her head with a smile.
“I believe this arrangement will be a lot more interesting.”
“Interesting?” Tony asked, affronted. “We'll see how interesting it is when Cap and I start trying to kill each other.”
“We're not going to kill each other,” Steve said, offended but trying not to show it. He'd actually thought that him and Tony had been starting to put aside their differences and become friends. Apparently not. “Come on, Tony. Let's take a look at our hut.”
“I protest,” Tony said even as he picked up his backpack, obviously accepting defeat. “I want that on the record. This is me, protesting.”
Sensing an opportunity to fulfill his mission before they even got started, Steve said, “You don't have to like it, Tony. But this'll be over much quicker if we do what Fury wants.”
Now Tony would say, fine, you win, or something along those lines – “Fury can shove his eyepatch up his ass.” Tony strode past him with a scowl. “Thinks he can make me dance to his tune. Who does he think he is?”
Steve sighed, picking up his own backpack before he followed Tony to their hut. This was going to be harder than he'd thought.
To his surprise, the hut was a lot bigger than it looked on the outside. There was a small room with a couch and a table that led right into the bedroom, outfitted with two separate bunkbeds. By the time Steve walked in, Tony had already claimed one of them, his backpack flung onto the top bunk and the man in question sprawled out on the bottom.
“The bed slat feels like shit,” he informed Steve. “And I'm pretty sure there's piss stains on yours.”
Steve sat down on his own bunk bed and bounced for a second before he shrugged. “I've slept on worse.”
“Yeah, but newsflash, the war is over. We deserve better.” Tony sat up, dragging his backpack off the bed and walking into the other room. “Dibs on the couch.”
Steve shook his head, neglecting to tell Tony about the mice he'd heard scuttling about under the living room floorboards. He unpacked as much as he needed before he walked back outside, casting a glance at Tony who seemed to already be conked out on the couch. Tony's shirt was riding up around his stomach, exposing a tanned strip of skin.
Steve averted his eyes with practiced ease.
The property wasn't too big, so Steve took a walk around, inspecting the different types of exercise equipment out in the forest. He had a feeling they were going to do a lot of trust falls this week.
Natasha nodded at him when she passed him on her own survey of the perimeter, but they didn't stop to chat. Which was just as well, because Steve was enjoying the peace and quiet for once. At least until the rest of the team came spilling out of their huts and started loudly complaining about the state of everything. Steve sighed. He was immensely glad that it was Coulson's job to deal with all of that.
Steve sat down on one of the benches surrounding the fire pit that they were presumably going to use tonight. He looked up when he heard the door to their own hut open and watched as Tony walked out, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. Apparently he'd actually taken a nap earlier. Their eyes met for a second, but Tony looked away almost immediately, as if his gaze just slid right off Steve, inconsequential. It made Steve's gut squirm unpleasantly.
Fury had paired them off for a reason. Steve knew that the lingering tension between him and Tony was probably visible to the rest of the team, but it bothered him that Fury knew about it. Then again, Fury had his fingers in so many pies, it would probably be weirder for him not to know.
Still. Steve didn't like it.
Tony made his way across the clearing to join the rest of the team who were all crowded around Coulson, obviously discussing something. Steve should probably go over there as well, but he just sat and watched, intrigued by the way Tony immediately drew all the attention onto himself. This was Tony in his element, always louder, brasher, more fascinating than everyone around him.
Steve had envied him for that at first. The way he so effortlessly commandeered a room, without ever outrightly exerting his authority. Steve knew he had a similar presence, that je ne sais quois that made people listen to what he said, but with Tony it just seemed so natural. Like he had been born to be the center of attention. To always be the best in every room.
How the hell was Steve going to make Tony Stark concede defeat?
“Thoughts?”
Steve looked up as Natasha sat down next to him. She had procured an apple from somewhere and was cutting it into slices, handing one to Steve. He took it with a nod of thanks, taking a bite. It was perfect.
“We have an interesting week ahead of us.”
Natasha smiled. “I'm sure you do. You're bunking with Tony.”
He nudged her with an elbow. “Stop.”
“No, really. If you've been looking for an opportunity –“
“You know I haven't,” Steve said, a little annoyed. Sure, Natasha had figured out that Steve had some not-strictly-platonic feelings towards Tony, but that didn't give her the right to prod. “I'm not going to do anything about it.”
“Your choice.” Yes, it was, thank you very much. “So what's your mission?”
“You know I won't tell you,” he said, grinning when she pinched his thigh.
“Smart man.” She got up and stretched her arms, looking back at Steve over her shoulder. “Come on, let's get started on dinner. I bet you're hungry.”
“I'm always hungry,” he said, and she winked, leading the way to their food supply. Steve looked up when he felt eyes on him and caught Tony just as he turned away. Maybe Tony really had him as a mission. It would make sense, considering this whole thing seemed to be about putting aside their differences. But if Steve needed to make Tony admit defeat, what could Tony possibly need Steve to say?
Steve shook his head and followed Natasha. It was always harder to think on an empty stomach.
He'd worry about Tony later.
The next morning found them all lined up near the border of the property, overlooking a huge, open field of grass. Coulson was tossing wooden blocks of all shapes and sizes along with what looked like building materials onto the ground, wearing a polo shirt and shorts. Seeing him dressed so casually was honestly messing with Steve's brain.
“Alright,” Coulson called out when he'd accumulated a sizable pile of wood, wire, nails and sticks, putting his hands behind his back and looking at each of them in turn. “Here's our first game of the day. We'll split into three teams. Whoever builds the highest tower in six minutes wins.”
“I'm with Bruce,” Tony immediately announced, and Clint slung an arm around both of their shoulders, shrugging at Natasha's raised eyebrow.
“What?” he asked. “I like being on the winning team.”
Tony crossed his arms, looking unbearably smug. “Man's got a point. You're going down.”
“You can be on our team,” Steve offered, and Natasha joined him and Sam while Wanda and Vision paired off on their own.
“No magic or supernatural powers allowed,” Coulson said with a significant glance at team Wanda-Vision. “Otherwise, go nuts. You have six minutes, starting...” He looked down at his watch. “Now.”
They all sprinted towards the pile, grabbing whatever materials they could. By the time Steve reconvened with Sam, Natasha was already hammering a long piece of wood into the ground with a stick.
“Sam, you've got the base. Make it sturdy,” Steve said as he grabbed a wooden block of similar length to Natasha's and rammed it into the ground with his bare fist. He handed Natasha the wire before grabbing another block. “Let's go for a square shape. Put in some diagonals for stability.”
“Roger, Rogers,” both Sam and Natasha chorused, casting a quick smirk at each other. Steve rolled his eyes.
“Mock me later. Let's make this thing sky-high.”
When Coulson called time five minutes later, Steve was actually pretty impressed by their work. Their tower was sturdy and stood at what he'd estimate as at least nine feet, stretching high above their heads. He high-fived Sam, turning around to the rest of the group –
And gaped at the gigantic structure across the field.
“I think we have a clear winner,” Coulson said as Tony and Clint pumped their fists in the air, whooping loudly. Their building looked almost like a miniature Eiffel tower, reaching up at least fifteen feet, with a small wooden ball crowning the top. It was immaculately designed, almost a work of art.
Wanda and Vision had opted to build a triangular structure that came up to about the same height as Steve and his team's. Bruce, Tony and Clint had clearly won.
“Suck it, losers,” Clint yelled in a startling display of maturity, and Steve sighed, meeting Tony's eyes across the field.
Maybe leading by example would do the trick.
Steve raised his hands, smiling at him. “Alright, I think we're all in agreement. You win.”
Tony smirked. “Yes, we know that. Thank you.”
Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “And you're so humble too.”
“One of my best qualities.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up now,” Sam said, clapping a hand on Steve's shoulder. “We'll wipe the floor with your asses as soon as we get to the physical games.”
“Bring it,” Clint shouted, and Coulson procured a list from somewhere on his person, skimming it quickly.
“Speaking of, our next game is Capture the Flag. Since you won, the three of you will be team Captains. Choose your –“
“Steve, get your ass over here,” Clint said, grinning when everyone turned to stare at him. “What? Winning team, I told you.”
“We'll see about that,” Natasha said with a wink at Tony, and Steve smiled as he walked over to accept a high-five from Clint.
Maybe this bootcamp would turn out to be fun after all.
They played a lot of games that week. Several times, Steve took the victory in a one-on-one match against Tony, waiting to hear him admit defeat. Tony never once said the words.
Steve was starting to get a little frustrated with his mission. Not because he was failing, per se, but because this whole thing had made it very obvious to him that Tony seemed to have an inferiority complex a mile wide when it came to Steve.
Tony had no problem seeing anyone else win. Contrary to popular belief, Tony wasn't competitive in every aspect of his life. He was actually a pretty fair player most times, despite his tendency to think outside the box with his strategies. Tony bent the rules. He didn't break them when he didn't have to.
But when it came to Steve, Tony seemed incapable of accepting defeat. Or even mildly deferring to him.
It was day six of their stay here, and Steve was running out of time. He only had about seven hours left to make Tony say the words before they started their journey home. But for once, Steve had no idea how to reach his mission objective. Some man with a plan he was.
Him and Tony had already turned in for the night, and seeing as Steve was getting nowhere during the team games, he'd dug a deck of cards out of his backpack and asked Tony if he'd like to play. To his surprise, Tony had been on board immediately, which made sense once they actually started playing a few rounds of rommé.
“Are you counting cards?” Steve asked incredulously, and Tony's eyes widened as he put a hand to his heart.
“Captain! How dare you? That's a baseless accusation!”
“Well, it's either that or you have a couple of aces up your sleeve,” Steve said, and Tony smirked.
“What? I can't just be that good?”
“No, you can, you just –“ Steve raised an eyebrow when Tony put down the rest of his seven cards in one fell swoop, winning once again. “Seriously?”
“Get wrecked, scrub,” Tony said, as if Steve was supposed to know what that meant. He held out his hand, wriggling his fingers. “Go on. Hand 'em here.”
Steve sighed, grabbing the last of the pile of dried beans he'd been playing with for lack of money and adding it to Tony's. “There. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” Tony said, leaning back on his hands with a smirk. “Good to know I'm still the best.”
Steve snorted. “The best at counting cards.”
“That moral high ground looks comfortable,” Tony said, flicking a bean into the air with his thumb and catching it with a flourish. “And yet here you are, beanless.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “I'm sure I'll survive.”
“Speaking of survival, I need some coffee.” Tony got up with a groan, bending backwards to stretch out his lower back. “But I guess I'll settle for the vaguely coffee-flavored sludge we have.”
“It's not that bad,” Steve said, and Tony patted him on the shoulder as he passed him.
“Your tastebuds got boiled off in the forties. You don't count.”
Steve felt like he should be insulted by that. Instead he got up and followed Tony into the kitchen, watching as he stirred several spoonfuls of coffee powder into a cup of water and chugged it cold, then pulled a face. Steve smiled. “Well, if you drink it like that, no wonder it's terrible.”
“What do you want me to do? Build a fire in here?” Tony gestured at the hut. “Might take the whole wall down with me.”
“You could've set the kettle to boil outside,” Steve said, leaning against the doorway. “Give us time to play another game.”
“Another?” Tony asked, amused. “You're out of beans, Cap. I won, fair and square.”
“A different game,” Steve insisted. “A physical game, not a card game.”
Tony chuckled. “Physical, huh? Almost sounds like you want to play gay chicken or some shit.”
Steve frowned. “What's that?”
“Oh, fantastic game, that.” Tony smirked at him, twinkling his fingers. “We get all up in each others' personal space. First one who gets uncomfortable and taps out loses.”
Gay chicken, huh? Steve could imagine what strategies one would apply to win that particular game.
He also knew why Tony had suggested it. The whole team seemed to think that Steve was a blushing virgin who couldn't handle anything remotely related to sex.
Well, Tony was about to find out just how wrong he was.
“Let's do it,” Steve said, and Tony looked surprised for a split second before he laughed.
“Oh Captain, my Captain, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into.”
Steve took several steps closer until he and Tony were only standing a few inches apart. From this close, Steve had to look down to meet Tony's eyes. Something about that made his heart pick up speed. “I think I do.”
Tony seemed to hesitate for a second. Then he said, “No, you don't” and shoved at Steve's chest. Steve automatically backed away, figuring that Tony was trying to regain his distance, but Tony followed him, pushing Steve back until the couch hit the backs of his knees and forced him to sit down. His throat pulled tight when Tony climbed up to straddle his lap, caging him in with both hands on either side of his face. They stared at each other for what felt like hours, just breathing the same air.
“Not too late to back out, Captain,” Tony murmured, and his tone spurred Steve on to fist his hand in Tony's hair and pull him even closer. To his credit, Tony didn't look at all surprised anymore, his shock replaced by an air of calculated cockiness. “You really going to do this?”
Tony had to know. If he was goading Steve like this, he had to know.
“Yes,” Steve said before he grabbed Tony's thighs, holding tight as he got off the couch, picking Tony up with him. Tony made a small noise, his hands clutching Steve's shoulders, and Steve spun on his heel so he could lay Tony out on the couch with plenty of space for Steve to climb on top of him. Tony blinked up at him, obviously caught off guard by the sudden move.
“Jesus H. Christ,” he said after a moment of stunned silence. “If you wanted me to spread my legs for you, you could've just asked.”
Steve flushed when he realized that he was indeed lying between Tony's spread thighs. If they continued like this, it wouldn't be long before Steve's body would betray how much he actually wanted this.
It felt a little underhanded to do this when Tony didn't know about the depth of Steve's feelings for him, but at this point Steve felt like he had to give it his all. He couldn't stop. If Tony didn't want this, he'd have to be the one to say so. Steve was past caring whether or not Tony figured out that Steve wanted him.
Steve leaned even closer, watching from only inches away as Tony's eyes widened, their mouths almost touching. “Tell me to stop,” Steve said quietly, and Tony shivered.
“Or what?” he asked, a little mockingly, and Steve thought, fuck it, before he mashed their lips together in a kiss. It lacked any sort of finesse, born out of Steve's desire to somehow make Tony realize how he felt. Tony made a surprised noise, like he hadn't expected Steve to call him on his bluff. Maybe he hadn't.
They kissed for a while, and Steve savored every moment, memorizing the shape and taste of Tony's mouth in case this really was the first and last time he'd get to do this. To be fair, he was pretty sure Tony wouldn't let him do this if he didn't want it, but that didn't mean that Tony was looking for anything more than a quick roll in the hay. Steve could do that. It would hurt in the morning, but that was a problem for tomorrow's Steve. Today's Steve wanted to know what Tony would sound like when Steve got his mouth on his cock.
He kissed his way down Tony's jaw, shifting backwards until he could get his hands on Tony's fly, looking up to check his reaction before he started pulling the zipper down. Tony met his eyes with the fire of challenge in them, and Steve took it as a sign to continue, grabbing Tony's dick through his boxers before he pulled it fully out of his pants. It was already mostly hard, thick and ruddy at the tip, and Tony made an interesting noise when Steve licked his lips and leaned down, opening his mouth wide –
“Wait! Stop.”
Steve's eyes snapped up when Tony's hands grabbed his hair and held tight, stopping him from moving forward. “What?”
“You don't –“ Tony swallowed so hard Steve could see it. He looked unsure all of a sudden. “Look, I know you've never backed down in your life, but this is still just a game. You don't have anything to prove here.”
Steve mustered him for a moment before he smiled and nodded. Tony looked relieved and almost a little disappointed in equal measure until Steve leaned in to press a kiss to the tip of Tony's cock, making his jaw drop open on a gasp.
“You saying you're tapping out, Stark?”
He could pinpoint the exact moment that Tony got it, because his eyes went wide with awe before they narrowed, searching Steve's eyes intently. Whatever he saw there seemed to convince him, because his features relaxed into a grin that was trying hard to be a smirk. It wasn't fooling Steve though. He'd know that look on Tony's face anywhere. Saw it in the mirror often enough.
It was nice to know that his feelings were returned.
An understatement, considering how breathless Steve was at just the thought that he might actually be able to have this. He had no idea to what capacity Tony was attracted to him, but Steve was far too relieved to see that Tony actually did see him as someone worthy of his attention to care.
“By all means,” Tony drawled, spreading his legs a little further. “Get on with it.”
Steve winked, smiling when Tony spluttered indignantly at the gesture and using Tony's surprise as the perfect moment to take Tony's cock all the way down his throat.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tony blurted, hands digging into the couch, and Steve silently thanked his lack of a gag reflex and the long months spent cooped up with other horny soldiers, because he wanted to make Tony sound like that every day for the rest of his life. “Oh my – fuck –“
Steve closed his eyes so he could concentrate on the feeling of Tony in his mouth, swallowing around it as best he could while his tongue danced up the underside, and the couch creaked when Tony hit it with his fist, his hips arching up off the cushions.
“God – Fuck, Steve, slow down, I'm not gonna –“ He bit out a curse when Steve sucked hard, feeling a little smug and a lot more turned on by the sound. Tony's thighs were trembling, and Steve knew he was going too fast, not giving Tony a chance to hold out, but he didn't care. He wanted Tony to come down his throat yesterday.
He had a feeling Tony wouldn't mind that either.
Tony moaned high in his throat, his hands coming down to fist in Steve's hair. “Oh, shit,” he panted, one leg splaying out and slipping off the couch, providing him with the leverage to push his hips up and give Steve an even better angle. When Steve opened his eyes, Tony was watching him, his cheeks flushed and sweat beading near his hairline. Steve relished in the groan Tony made when their eyes met, sucking him back down with a loud slurping noise.
“Fuck, you are filthy,” Tony said like he was having a revelation, and Steve hummed his assent around Tony's cock, ignoring the way his own dick twitched at Tony's words. Tony choked. “Do you even breathe? How am I supposed to last?”
Steve grabbed Tony's ass with one hand, digging his nails in as he dragged him forward, urging him to fuck Steve's mouth, and Tony barked a laugh that was equal parts disbelief and desperation.
“God, you like that, don't you? You filthy fucking –“ Tony arched his back and came, throwing his head back with a loud moan that made Steve's cock flex, the pressure almost unbearable at this point. He had to reach down and touch himself, his eyes rolling shut as the friction combined with the taste of Tony on his tongue almost pushed him right over the edge –
But Tony got there first, pushing Steve back as soon as he was done and fumbling for Steve's dick with clumsy fingers. He'd barely gotten it out of Steve's pants when Steve already felt that familiar coil of heat low in his gut, making his hips stutter forward into Tony's hands.
“Tony,” he groaned, and Tony licked his fingers before he grabbed Steve's cock, stroking it twice and running his wet thumb right across the slit –
And Steve was fucking gone, coming so hard he could feel it in his toes. He grabbed hold of Tony somewhere in the middle, trying to find an anchor, and Tony stroked him through it with a firm grip, his callouses catching on Steve's skin every now and then. The feeling made Steve shiver, knowing just how many times he'd watched Tony work on some machine or another and wondered what it would feel like to be touched by those hands.
They sat together in silence for a long moment until Tony regained his bearings, pulling Steve down on top of him. Steve grimaced at the feeling of his come smearing between their stomachs, but Tony just grinned at him.
“I can't believe you had that in you, Cap. Where did that come from?”
“Been wanting to do that for a while,” Steve said, too fucked out to really care about revealing too much. Either way, Tony didn't run away screaming, instead choosing to stroke his hands up and down Steve's back, so he was probably in the clear.
“I honestly had no idea.”
“That was sort of the point.” Steve's head lolled up to tuck itself against Tony's neck, his eyes slipping shut. He could probably fall asleep like this. Except... “We should take a shower.”
“Or we could enjoy the afterglow like normal people, you monster,” Tony said with unmistakable fondness, and Steve smiled when he felt Tony's fingers carding through his hair. Until he remembered where those fingers had been only a few minutes ago.
“I'm serious. We're filthy,” Steve insisted, and Tony groaned long-sufferingly, pushing Steve to the side so he could roll off the couch.
“Fine, you win. Clean up first, then cuddling.”
Steve was so transfixed by the sight of Tony's glutes flexing as he walked away that he didn't notice it at first. Then his brain replayed what Tony had just said.
He'd won. He'd completed the challenge.
Steve could hear Tony whistling in the bathroom, puttering around in a way that felt oddly domestic. He decided then and there that he would keep this victory to himself. He'd already won something much more important than his mission, after all.
“What's that grin for?” Tony asked once he emerged from the bathroom, walking back over to the couch, and Steve pulled him down into his arms, ignoring Tony's squawk of protest as the wet washcloth got trapped between their bodies.
“Nothing,” he said, pressing a kiss to Tony's temple. “Nothing at all.”