159 or 139 for the ficlet please!
(Also, do these numbers correspond or a prompt or are we just winging it here, curious minds would like to know how this lottery is working 🧐)
These numbers correspond to a prompt set which I can post a link to after this is done but I wanted the randomness of it. No offense but you guys always go for the same prompts (which don't get me wrong, make sense for the characters/my writing) but I wanted to stretch some writing muscles!!!! So I anonymized the list :3c
Steve groaned when he realized he couldn't ignore the constant pinging of his phone anymore. It had well and truly rung through his half-dozing state. He pushed himself up, popping each vertebrae as he attempted to blink the sleep out of his eyes, then yawned, loud, and scrubbed at his eyes.
He took a glance around his room, then squinted in confusion when he saw his lamp had been knocked off the bedside table, there was a... sock? On the ceiling fan? And the ceiling fan was askew, the edges of the blades scraping the paint off on one side and nearly low enough to clip his hair on the other. He stared at it, mouth hanging open in confusion, especially as it finally registered that it was not a sock hanging from the fan, but a ripped pair of tights.
Steve grabbed his phone, still staring at the tights, as he wondered how, exactly, they'd been ripped right down the middle of the crotch and where, exactly, the other half was. He found it as he rolled onto his back to check his phone, one end tied to the foot board of his bed, the other tied around his ankle. He blinked slowly, then thumbed his phone open, peering at the notifications.
[Bucky]
If you don't respond, I'm calling the cops
Steve blinked again, then sent a simple 'responding' and scrolled up to see what was going on. He came to the conclusion that he'd disappeared halfway through a party. Bucky and Natasha's engagement party, maybe? They were celebrating something, he remembered. The first messages has been teasing, calling him a curmudgeonly old man, then jokes about him getting lucky, then concern as he'd never replied to any of them. He flipped back to Bucky's messages.
[Me]
Yo what happened
My lamp's broken? And my ceiling fan? I'm tied to the bed kinda.
He looked around again just for good measure, then did a double-take at his sheets. He snapped a picture and sent it along as well.
[Me]
Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.
Bucky's response came only a few seconds later.
[Bucky]
Oh my god the stripper??????????????!
I wondered what happened to him!!!!!!
"The stripper?" Steve asked, squinting at the screen in confusion.
The door to his bathroom opened, and a man stepped out, naked as the day he was born. He was beautifully damp. He had a towel wrapped around his hair. Steve understood, suddenly, why half a pair of tights were on the ceiling fan. He immediately wanted to fuck this man so athletically that the other half snapped off his leg and flew onto the ceiling fan too.
"I ordered breakfast," the man said casually, pulling a duffel bag from... somewhere. "It should be here in about fifteen minutes. I'm Tony, by the way," he added, picking a pair of briefs out of the bag.
"You don't have to put those on, Tony," Steve offered, instead of doing the polite thing of offering his name back, or asking if he wanted anything else.
Tony let out a bark of laughter. "Just as charming as last night," he teased, shaking his head.
God, Steve hoped he'd been charming last night. "So... were we introduced last night?" he asked carefully. "And you thought I forgot your name?"
"I was introduced as Bambi last night," Tony said, offering him a smirk. "And you waxed poetic about my big brown eyes until I basically had no choice but to fall into bed with you."
"Bambi," Steve repeated, and then, louder, "Ooooh, Bambi." Suddenly he remembered exactly what had happened last night, up to and including how his room had gotten messed up, and it had started with Tony finally asking, 'Does that make you Faline? Or are you more of a Ronno?' and Steve just picking him up and carrying him toward the door as Tony giggled in his arms.
Well. Food was coming. He'd have time to convince Tony he was more than just a fan of brown eyes. Tony had a cheeky smile. He found those always seemed to get him into trouble in the best way.
