“Prank” war, but the kind to see who can make the other blush the most in public. sorry this took a while! i hope you like it!! | on ao3
(@desitonystark asked for this too!)
It starts when Tony teases Steve and says, “I love that I can make you blush like that.”
And Steve replies, “I know. I like making you blush, too.”
“But you don’t,” Tony says, looking at Steve quizzically.
“Yes I do,” Steve says, looking affronted.
“I mean sometimes, sure,” Tony says, laughing a little. “Definitely not as much as I make you blush.”
Steve furrows his brow. “Is that a challenge?”
“Please,” Tony says, waving his hand as if shooing away a fly. “It’s only a challenge if there’s a chance of you winning.”
Tony thinks nothing more of their conversation until he and Steve are walking into Fury’s office. Steve’s hand is on his shoulder, guiding him forward. Then Steve’s hand slides slowly down Tony’s back, and then even further down to give Tony’s ass a quick squeeze right as Fury turns towards them.
Tony lets put an undignified squawk and feels his cheeks color.
Beside him, Steve sits down, smug smile on his face.
“Oh it’s on, Rogers,” Tony mutters to him.
Fury rolls his eyes. “Please, spare my one good eye of your indecency.”
Steve’s prodding the egg frying in the pan when Tony arrives, sweatpants slung low on his hips and wearing one of Steve’s old army shirts with the sleeves cut off.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” Tony purrs, as he places two fingers on Steve’s jaw to turn his head to his.
Steve’s about to open his mouth and say, “try harder,” but Tony beats him to it by tiptoeing and kissing him lewdly.
Steve pulls away, breathless, and his cheeks feel much like the egg that’s now sizzling in the pan.
“Really?” Bruce says, frowning at them from his perch on the kitchen counter. “In front of my cereal?”
Tony pours himself a cup of coffee and blows Steve a kiss as he walks out of the kitchen. “Ball’s in your court, baby!” he says, and Steve watches Tony’s perfect ass sway as he leaves, helpless and half-hard as his breakfast burns.
Tony steps out of the elevator, typing out an email to Pepper about his last meeting when he’s overwhelmed by the smell of roses. He stops and puts down his phone.
“Seriously, can you and Steve just fuck it out like normal people?” Clint asks, standing in the middle of the room, arms akimbo. His nose is red.
Tony barely processes what Clint says, staring at the absolute multitudes of flowers adorning the common room. Red, pink, and white bouquets.
Clint sneezes as he picks his way through the flowers, bends down to pick up something, then shoves a card against Tony’s chest. “Here’s your card from your dumb boyfriend,” he says, before blowing his nose.
Tony opens up the card and winces as Clint continues to sneeze and mutter under his breath.
Written on the card in Steve’s large scrawl:
i do not know what it is about you that closesand opens; only something in me understandsthe voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
Tony’s cheeks color, and he feels a little misty-eyed as he rereads the line of poetry. Then, all of the sudden, he notices Natasha beside him. She smirks and takes a picture of Tony with her phone.
“Looks like you’ve got to keep up, Tony,” she laughs, and picks up a bouquet as she saunters away.
Tony invites the team out to dinner, and Steve is already on his guard. It’s a nice restaurant, and they’re half-way through dessert when a barbershop quartet materialize out of nowhere.
“Oh, would you look at that,” Tony says, smiling serenely as he licks off the last of his ice cream from his spoon.
“We heard you’re celebrating an anniversary!” one jovial-looking man pipes up. “We have a request to sing a certain song for Captain Rogers.”
Steve opens his mouth to beg them not to, but the men stand up a bit straighter as they get ready to sing, and his mouth clicks shut.
If your heart goes bumpety-bumpIt’s love, love, loveIf your throat comes up with a lumpIt’s love, love, loveIf your knees go knockety-knockIt’s love, love, love
Steve smiles slowly, familiar with the beat, and he nods along as they sing. Beside him, he can feel Tony almost vibrating eagerly, waiting. The rest of the team seems to enjoy the performance, and soon, the men finish the song to a round of applause.
Tony stares at Steve, looking a bit confused for a moment. Steve gives Tony a shit-eating grin. “Try again next time?” he teases.
The team’s shaking hands with the singers when Tony rests his hand on Steve’s thigh. Steve turns to Tony, curious. He shifts a little as Tony slides his hand a bit higher up Steve’s thigh and he leans close to whisper: “I can’t wait to get home so you can fuck me raw.”
Steve feels his cheeks heat up Tony’s hot breath against his skin, and feels them heat up more at the images Tony’s placed in his head. Tony gives his thigh a quick squeeze before pulling away.
“I don’t even want to know,” Clint says, eyes wide at how flushed Steve is.
Steve’s looking through a dossier with Natasha when Tony walks past them wearing a black tank top and jeans. His arms are streaked with grease, and Steve swallows when he sees his dog tags gleaming on Tony’s chest.
“You can’t be that easy,” Natasha says, turning to look at Steve, faint disappointment on her features.
“I’m not,” Steve breathes out, eyes still on Tony as anticipation builds slowly in his gut.
Bruce, from across the room, folds down the newspaper he’s holding to watch as Tony rucks up his shirt to wipe sweat from his forehead. He
Steve swallows again, then uses the last reserves of his gumption to walk up to Tony.
Tony, clearly not expecting these turn of events, looks up at Steve, surprised.
Steve can almost see the gears turning in Tony’s head when he thumbs away a bit of grease he’s pretty sure Tony put on his cheek on purpose.
“Hello,” Tony replies, and rests a hand on Steve’s waist in an effort to regain control over the situation.
Steve moves his hand to rest on Tony’s chest, his dog tags cold against his palm.
“I have to finish up here,” he murmurs to Tony. He’s delighted to see Tony lean closer, like he wanted him to. “But how about you get cleaned up and ready for me?” he whispers, bending down so his lips brush against Tony’s ear.
“Okay,” Tony says, his voice a little higher than usual.
“Keep these on for me?” Steve asks, holding up his dog tags. “I like knowing that you’re mine.”
“Y-yeah,” Tony stammers out, cheeks beet red.
“Off you go,” Steve smirks, pressing a quick kiss to Tony’s cheek and turning Tony back toward the door. “See you in a minute.”
“Yup!” Tony says, voice high as he almost runs out the door.
“Oh, bravo,” Natasha laughs, clapping. Bruce shakes his head and goes back to reading the paper.
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