#teamfic

[wideeyedloner]

[fic] [leverage | teamfic; (sophie/nathan)] plan a (on, on, you noblest english)

ao3

Thank you to the mod team at @purimgifts for hosting such a fun exchange! 💕

[wonkyelk]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stargate Atlantis Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ronon Dex & Teyla Emmagan & Rodney McKay & John Sheppard Characters: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan Additional Tags: Team, Light Angst, Character Study, Fog, POV Alternating Summary:

They should have left as soon as the mist started to rise.

But it had been so slow and insidious, a mere trace of haze in the air, until; it wasn’t.

Until it had swallowed up every tree, every stone, every sight and every sound, had smothered the whole entire world, in all its thick, muffling whiteness.

Until John was alone.

[notsanguineatall]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

For @devoted-book-nerd 

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: SurrealEstate (TV 2021) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Susan Ireland, Luke Roman, Phil Orley, August Ripley, Zooey L'Enfant, Original Characters Additional Tags: Haunted Houses, Horror Elements, Team Dynamics Summary:

Every house is haunted.

[ragingpancake]

Lietuenant Colonel Idiot And The Kastat Root Part 2

Part 1

The first thing John is aware of when he starts to come to is the quiet beeping of machines. He knows that that’s never a good sign but he feels floaty and warm so he has a hard time caring about what exactly landed him in the infirmary this time. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking against the overhead light, dim as it was in the moment but he doesn’t realize he’s made a noise until Teyla and Ronon quickly come into his line of vision. “Hi,” he manages, voice hoarse with disuse, and you know, probably from the tube they’d shoved down his throat to anesthetize him when Carson had cut him back open to clean him up a little. “Where’s… what happened?” He has a vague memory of a stomachache and of screaming but the pain meds they have him on makes it hard to think. It also makes it hard to sleep, so when Teyla tells him gently that he should go back to sleep and they’ll fill him in later, he doesn’t argue. He just closes his eyes and lets the darkness return.

-- It happens like that a couple of times before John finally, truly, wakes up. He thinks that it’s probably the pain that does it, that pulls him back to the land of the lucid, as Beckett has started weaning him off of the good stuff. He doesn’t remember much from those quick bursts of consciousness, but he does remember that while he’s seen Teyla and Ronon every time, he hasn’t once seen Rodney. Where’s Rodney? “Aye, Colonel,” Carson greets, leaning over as he adjusts John’s nasal cannula, Teyla and Ronon just visible over his shoulder. “Welcome back t’the land of the livin’, lad. How’re ya feelin’ this morning?” “Where’s Rodney?” He doesn’t miss the way Carson’s face shifts, just for a moment, nor does he miss the look shared by Teyla and Ronon. Something sits painfully in his gut at that and for one brief, horrible moment, he’s afraid that something happened to Rodney, something off-world, because Rodney was always here when he woke up, and-- “Settle down now,” Carson admonishes gently, and John is embarrassed to realize that the beeping on his heart rate monitor has sped up. “Rodney’s down in the labs, that’s all. He’s alright. The only one y’need to be worryin’ about now is yourself.” “How much do you remember?” Ronon asks and John can tell by the look on Teyla’s face that she’s not pleased at the question. It had been a routine mission, right? M3-X982, the Plesians, according to the ancient database. Not so routine if you ended up here, his brain reminds him and okay, fair enough. He takes a second and tries to think through the brain fog he always associates with the good drugs. He remembers the almost meatloaf and the bad jokes told by Plesia’s leader, Korom. He remembers the heat--. No. Not heat. The fever and the stomachache and--. Screaming. Hoarse screams, begging them to stop killing him, for Ronon to let him go, for Teyla to help him. And Rodney… Rodney, holding the dagger looking very much on the edge of a panic attack as he sliced through John’s skin, flaying him open. “Your appendix nearly ruptured,” Carson supplies, voice more gentle now. “Rodney recognized the signs fairly quickly but the doctor in Plesia was ill-equipped to operate.” “Doctor McKay very likely saved your life, John,” Teyla says, a fact she’s tried to get through to Rodney since their return. “Aye,” Carson agrees. “We had t’put ya under again to clean up a bit of infection and to right some suturin’, but he did bloody well considerin’ the circumstances.” “Then why… why isn’t he here?” Because no one has actually told him that much, but John can probably guess why. Guilt is a hell of a thing and John knows in an instant that he would’ve never wanted the roles reversed, would’ve never have wanted to have to--. “I need to talk to him,” and he’s not exactly thrilled with how desperate he sounds but he really doesn’t care right. He needs to talk to Rodney, needs to seehim, to tell him he did good. He starts pulling at all the leads and wires and Ronon is there again, a firm hand on his shoulder, urging him back down. “Let me talk to him first,” he says and even Teyla raises an eyebrow at that. Ronon isn’t exactly known for his uh, gentle nature, but when she meets John’s eyes, she gives him the slightest of nods. “Tell him to get his ass in here, or I’m gonna come find him myself,” John warns, but there’s no heat. The slight exertion has left him very nearly panting through a wave of pain. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message,” he says and without anything further, Ronon is gone. -- Rodney McKay isn’t known for his silence. He knows he’s a loud, obnoxious, abrasiveman even on his best day and yet ever since they’d returned from Plesia, he hadn’t been able to muster up the strength to even so much as raise his voice. It’s unnerving his scientists, he knows, but he doesn’t care. Mostly, he keeps to himself and keeps working, stopping only long enough for the occasional power nap and to replenish his supply of power bars. He’s just finished the aforementioned nap when Ronon finds

him, trudging back down to the laps to continue his work on the ancient device they’d found some time ago. He’s hoping that with enough tweaking, it can be used to send a patient into something sort of a temporary stasis, long enough to get them back through the Stargate where an actual fucking medical team can--. “McKay,” Ronon calls, but Rodney doesn’t stop. “Little busy, Chewie,” he calls over his shoulder but it lacks the usual McKay bite. “Sheppard’s awake.” Rodney does stop for that, but he doesn’t turn, shoulders tensing and he has to take a deep breath because he can feel something like panic trying to surge up again. “Is he--?” “Pissed? Yeah. Pissed that you weren’t there with us when he woke up.” “Well I’m sorry that some of us have actual work to do and can’t spend days--.” “You’re bein’ dumb.” Rodney whirls around at that, and he can feel the vein in his forehead throbbing in anger because he’s not--! He’s just--! “Sheppard probably wouldn’t have made it out of surgery without some major problems if we’d waited until the rain stopped. The Doc said so himself. Because of what you did, he’s got about another week of medicine and he’ll be back on his feet.” “I am not that kind of doctor,” Rodney reminds Ronon and he hates how he sounds in that moment, so, so upset. So weak. The weakest on the team, always. “You were the most qualified in that room to do what had to be done,” Ronon says and while that may actually be true, that won’t help when the nightmares come back. “You held it together better than either me or Teyla would’ve.” Rodney highly doubts that. “Listen,” Ronon says and this may be the most words Rodney’s heard him string together ever. “It sucked but it had to be done. You can’t keep beating yourself up for it.” We’ll see about that, Rodney thinks. “Thanks for the pep talk, Conan,” he says as he starts back for the labs. “You’re goin’ the wrong way. Infirmary’s that way.” Rodney doesn’t respond and he half expects Ronon to come after him, to throw him over his shoulder and haul him off to the infirmary, but a moment later, Rodney hears a quiet sigh and heavy footsteps falling away. He’s just not ready yet. -- Rodney might not be ready yet, but John’s never been the most patient person in the world. Especially not when it comes to Rodney. He’s tired, in pain, and annoyedby the time he makes it down to the labs, a trip that should’ve taken him five minutes on a good day but has taken nearly a half an hour for all the breaks he’s had to take to stop and lean against the wall. Carson’s going to have a field day when he comes back from surgery to find that John’s managed to sneak out, but he’ll just have to deal with that later. For now, the only thing he’s concerned about is Rodney. Atlantis takes pity on him and opens the door to the labs the minute she senses him approaching, allowing him to continue to hold on the wall as he slips inside and the minute he sees the slope of those shoulders in that blue shirt, any annoyance John had been feeling faded away. “Listen Teyla,” Rodney says and he sounds exasperated which leads John to believe that the Athosian has been down here plenty while he’s been holed up in the infirmary. He’s glad for that though. Means his people are taking care of each other. “I appreciate y--,” he turns and the words die in his throat. “Hi Rodney,” John greets, maybe a little dumbly and Rodney stands up so quickly that his stool topples backward. John thinks maybe he’s going to haul off and punch him, so he braces for impact, but when Rodney approaches, he grabs John’s arm and hauls it around his shoulder, giving him something else to lean against. “You’re supposed to be in the infirmary, you absolute idiot,” Rodney hisses and when he gets John seated on a stool, he moves to tap the communicator in his ear. “Rodney, wait!” And he reaches for the other, closing his hand around Rodney’s wrist. “Just… gimme a minute, okay?” Rodney hesitates, which is unusual for him. Rodney is always so sure of himself and quick to make

sure everyone knows it. Was this because of what happened on Plesia? “Listen,” John says and that’s about as far as he gets before Rodney is talking over him. “No! You listen, you, you, you irresponsible, stupid—” There’s a half a second that John wants to be offended and starts to respond in kind, but he stops himself because he realizes that Rodney needs this. That he’s been holding this in since they got back from that stupid planet. “You could have died! And not just from your stupid appendix, but your entire body could have gone into shock and you could have died! Because you were too stupid, too, too, too you to just go to the damn infirmary before we ever left!” “I know, Rodney and I’m –” “No! You don’t know. You have no idea!” He’s pacing now, wringing his hands together and John doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so upset. The thought that he’d been the one to cause that— “What if I’d been wrong, Sheppard? What if that had been for nothing? What if I’d—" “Rodney,” John says and he stands then, ignoring the way that the room spins just a little. “Listen to me, okay? I’m fine. You did everything right, and you probably saved me from a really shitty next few weeks, assuming I hadn’t died. I wouldn’t be sitting here right now if it wasn’t for you.” “But--.” “No buts,” John answers. “I’m sorry you had to do that, that I made you have to make that choice. You’re right, it was stupid to go off world without getting checked out first and I’m sorry, alright?” He reaches up, rubbing uncomfortably at the back of his neck. “I just… wanted to, you know, thank you for saving my ass out there. And to tell you that I’m really glad to know that no matter what, you’ve got my back.” And Rodney sags, all of the fight and the anger and maybe a little of the guilt too having gone out of him. “You’re… really alright?” “I’m really alright,” John promises him and this time, Rodney sags against the table, the tension leaving shoulders. “Thank God,” he breathes, and a breath later, “you owe me for this.” “Ah, there he is,” John says and he feigns annoyance, rolling his eyes. “No, no, you don’t understand. You owe me.” “I know, Rodney.” He doesn’t protest as Rodney comes around again, hauling John’s arm over his shoulder and as they begin to make their way from the science lab, back to John’s own quarters, John lets Rodney’s incessant babble wash over him. It felt good to hear it again, he realizes, even if he knows he’s never going to hear the end of this. And honestly? Well. He wouldn’t change that for anything in the world.

[clintashaotp]

Author’s note/summary: I’m pretty predictable at this point. Natasha!whump, Clintasha, team fic. April challenge day 13, I hope you all are doing okay in quarantine :)

1,686 Words

Fighter

.

The Avengers aren’t afraid of death. All of them have experienced life-threatening injuries in the past, especially the two assassins. All of them have woken up in hospitals they don’t recognize, or had surgeries, or been dragged a mile and a half to a medical jet. But bleeding out in the middle of a jungle is a new one. 

The mission was supposed to be simple. Get to the terrorist’s bunker in the center of the jungle. Tony and Steve were supposed to break down the gate while Clint sniped out guards from above. Banner flew the jet, and Thor helped keep the gates open while Natasha snuck inside and retrieved the biochemical weapon that had been stolen from a SHIELD lab. But things always go wrong. 

“Tasha. Natasha, can you hear me?” Clint whispers to the half-conscious woman in his lap. She stirs slightly, and Bruce bites his lip in concern. 

“We don’t have any supplies, Clint, and they blew up the jet.” Bruce runs a hand through his hair. 

“So what can we do?” Steve asks worriedly. “She’s been stabbed at least five times, for Christ’s sakes, and what about infection?” 

“I don’t know!” Bruce repeats. “We….we need to find shelter. Somewhere for us to stay until SHIELD picks up the distress signal.”

“I can’t fly,” Tony shakes his head, gesturing at his suit. “They used an EMP during the fight and fried all my internal wiring. I doubt I could get above the treeline, not to mention all the way to the base.” 

“Friends, I can fly ahead,” Thor offers, and they all turn to him. “I will go to the SHIELD facility that we came from and get some medical evac to come here, for Lady Natasha.” 

“Okay,” Steve agrees in his captain’s voice. “We’ll look after Natasha for a while.” 

Thor swings his hammer, then launches into the sky. The clouds darken, but when they don’t clear immediately, the fear of rain begins to set in. 

“We need a shelter,” Cap says quickly, and Tony salutes. 

“On it. Doctor, care to help?” he gestures to Bruce, who nods in agreement. 

“Tasha. Nat.” Clint murmurs again. “Clint?” she mumbles, and his eyes widen. “Ah--” she winces. “Okay. What happened?”

“You’re okay. You got a few knives stuck in you, but we pulled them out. You’ll be okay.”

“Jesus.” she struggles to sit up, and when Clint tries to push her down again, she glares at him. “Clint, I can sit up on my own.”

When she gets into a sitting position, she sways slightly, and Clint helps her lean back against him to help her remain upright. 

“We don’t have any medical supplies, the terrorists hit the jet,” Clint says, worriedly, and Natasha just hums in response. “On a scale of one to ten--”

“Six,” Natasha responds, lips tight, words clipped. 

“Yeah, it doesn’t look like a six--” Clint tries, but she cuts him off. 

“It’s a six, Barton. I’m fine. Okay?” he knows better to argue when she uses his last name, so he just lets her relax against his shoulder. 

“Hey, Master Assassins, we got a shelter, if you want to come.” Tony waves them over to a makeshift hut, where the scientists have taken the shell of the jet and covered the holes with branches and leaves. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll keep us dry if it rains.” 

“It’s fine.” Clint nods, and, to Natasha’s great protest, he scoops her into his arms. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” she growls at him, and he looks at her apologetically. 

“Nat, I don’t want you to hurt yourself more.” 

“Clint,” she says, her voice tight. “Let me go.”

“No, Nat, I can’t, you need to--”

“I’m going to be sick,” she says quickly, and he sets her down gently on the ground, where she turns her head and vomits onto the ground. “Ah.” she hisses, grabbing her temple. 

“Nat?” Clint asks nervously, and she waves him away. 

“Just...give me a second,” she mutters, hands on her head. “Okay. Okay, I’m good.” 

Clint looks up to see Tony, Bruce and Cap watching from the entrance to the shelter, concern reflected heavily in his gaze. 

“I’m going to carry you to the entrance now, okay?” he says cautiously, and she nods, not opening her eyes. 

He picks her up again carefully and carries her to the seats that Tony and Bruce managed to pull out of the wreckage, which has been fashioned into a makeshift bed. She hisses when he sets her down, her posture rigid and stiff, and he settles onto the floor next to her, ready for a long night. 

After a quick sweep of the plane shell, they soon establish that no food or water is nearby. Thor should have come back half an hour ago, and they have no idea how long it will take to get Natasha to a medical facility. 

It’s almost three hours before fever sets in. Her health has declined steadily, and as the team chatters aimlessly, awaiting extraction, her face has steadily paled, except for flushed patches on her cheeks. 

“Tasha?” Clint whispers softly to her, as to not alert the team, but she shakes her head. 

She shivers when he puts a hand on her arm, and he gazes at her, concern rushing through his mind. 

He sets his hand against her forehead, only to withdraw it quickly. 

“Tash,” he gasps, “you’re burning up.” 

“Sorry?” she says, her voice hoarse, her eyes not quite focusing on his face. 

“Bruce,” he says sharply and turns to see the other members staring at him. “It’s bad.” 

“I’m fine--” Natasha tries, but Bruce steps forward, ignoring her protests. 

“Natasha,” he says calmly, “how do you feel?”

“Fine,” she murmurs, but it lacks conviction, and when Bruce checks her temperature, his eyebrows contract with worry. 

“Alright. Okay, the infection must be setting in on your wounds, there’s even a chance there was poison on one of the blades,” he mutters, frowning. “But we don’t have any med supplies, god--”

“I can hold out until Thor comes back,” she says firmly. “Really.” her tone leaves little room for protest, but when Clint leans against her, he feels her trembling against him. 

“Hey, Natasha, JARVIS says your body temperatures at 101 and climbing…” Tony trails off, an expression of worry on his face. 

“I’ll be okay,” she says, but her voice is weak, and she leans back against Clint, her limbs still shaking. 

They sit there in silence. Clint monitors her closer after that, checking her eyes, her forehead, feeling her pulse. He knows that no matter the results, there’s nothing they can do, but he still feels the sense of dread in the pit of his stomach grow each time he feels her forehead get hotter and hotter. 

It is almost an hour before the conversation starts again, but it’s Natasha who tries to speak. 

“Clint,” she whispers softly, and he immediately bends down to listen. “I….I’m not feeling great.” 

“Yeah, Nat, I know,” he mutters, guilt pounding through his chest. “From one to ten--”

“I’m getting a little closer to an eight now,” she says softly, and he can tell she’s having trouble focusing. 

“Okay. Nat, I’m really sorry, all we can do is wait.” 

“I know.” she nods. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to hold my hand?” he knows it’s an awkward question, but he knows she can get scared when blood loss sets in.

“Sure,” she mutters and laces their fingers together. “Ah.” she winces slightly. 

“What’s wrong?” Clint frowns, eyebrows knitting together. Her blood loss makes her face pale, and her movements are slow. He can see her hand trembling when she grabs her temple. 

“I don’t know. Everything hurts. My whole body hurts.” 

“I’m really sorry, Na, what can I do?.” 

“I’m feeling kind of dizzy--” she whispers, and Clint looks down at her to see her eyes lose focus completely. 

Her eyes flutter closed and she collapses against him. He inhales sharply with worry and the other team members look up at him. 

“What happened?” Steve asks, approaching. 

“I think she passed out,” Clint says softly, placing a hand against her forehead. “Jesus.” 

“103 degrees,” Tony winces. “And there’s nothing we can do?”

“Nothing.” Bruce shakes his head, and Steve slams his fists onto the floor. “We don’t have water to clean them, and we shouldn’t use rainwater. We’re in a polluted area, it’s likely that it would worsen the infection.”

“We could at least try,” Clint bites his lip, and Bruce sighs. “I mean, we’re in a jungle, for christ’s sake, how polluted can it be?”

“We’re right next to a weapons manufacturing facility,” Bruce starts, but at Clint’s look, he sighs and pulls off his jacket, tearing off a strip and walking outside to let the rainwater dampen the cloth. 

“Jesus, she’s dying, and there’s nothing we can do.” the soldier hisses, and Clint raises an eyebrow, surprised by the outburst. 

“She’ll be okay.” he tries to comfort them. “She’s a fighter. She’s been through worse.” 

“We haven’t,” Tony shakes his head, “Not with her.” 

They lapse back into silence. Natasha’s unconscious form rests against Clint, and he strokes her hair away from her forehead carefully. Bruce hands him the wet cloth and Clint examines her carefully, pressing the cloth gently to the gash along her ribcage, which is still bleeding sluggishly. She doesn’t even flinch. 

“She’ll be okay,” he repeats, though it's more for him than any of them, he knows that. 

She looks so small in his arms, her brow furrowed, her eyes shut tightly. He holds her close. It’s okay. 

.

And she is. When she wakes up in the hospital two days later, Clint is sound asleep in a chair next to her bed. Steve, Tony, Bruce, and Thor are talking softly in the corner, and when they notice that she’s awake, they crowd around her bed. 

Amidst the chatter, Natasha makes eye contact with a sleepy Clint, and she smiles at him reassuringly. She’s a fighter. She’s okay. 

[sholiofic]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Torchwood Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Owen Harper & Toshiko Sato, Gwen Cooper & Jack Harkness & Owen Harper & Ianto Jones & Toshiko Sato Characters: Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato, Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper Additional Tags: Friendship, Team as Family, Families of Choice Summary: The team finds a crashed alien spaceship, and Owen gets a second chance. Of sorts.

[musicalluna]

its been like the shittiest weekend of my life so when i saw this i got rlly happy anyway my prompt is just books or blankets or both? i hope youve had a good day!!

aw, i’m sorry to hear you had a lousy weekend. it was an okay day! i was cranky for no reason ;p

–

“I don’t read,” Clint says and Tony scoffs so hard he starts coughing.

“Tony,” Steve says, voice thick with exasperation.

“You’re full of shit,” Tony says when he can speak again. “You love that—what is it, Petey Jackson?”

“Percy.”

“AHA!”

“There aremovies.”

“Please argue about stupid things quieter,” Natasha complains from where she’s curled up in Steve’s lap, her head resting on his chest. She claimed the only thing plusher was Tony’s ass. They’ve only been given one tiny blanket for the six of them, so, being the smallest, Natasha’s been given that and the rest of them are squeezed together against the wall between Steve and Thor to get as much body heat as they can. Steve has blanket-burrito Nat in his lap because the cold air in the cell had been giving him a pinched, hollow look. “And you love those books, Clint.”

Clint gives her a betrayed look and Bruce smiles.

“We know you can read, Clint.”

“Who’s Clint?”

“That didn’t even work in the movie, whywould it work here?” Tony demands.

“How would I know, I’m an idiot.”

Natasha snakes a hand out of the blanket and reaches across Bruce to smack Clint. “Yes. You are. But not because you can’t read.”

“Anyway,can we go back to my question? What are you guys reading?”

“A Brief History of Time,” Thor says, and everyone other than Natasha turns to look at him. He grins the way he does right before he says something that nearly makes Tony’s head explode. “It is quaint.”

“Oh my god,” Tony says.

Bruce covers his smile with one hand.

“I’ve been reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.”

“Okay, yes!”

Natasha settles in a little more against Steve’s chest and he squeezes her, reassured by her weight and warmth.

Getting captured is never going to be at the top of his list of “fun things to do”, but he has to admit, being stuck in places like this together has led to a lot of conversations they might not have otherwise had.

“Did you finally stop being a hipster and read Harry Potter?” Clint asks and Tony groans.

“Yes,” he finally admits.

“And?”

“I liked it, dammit.”

Steve smiles and settles in. “Does that mean I read Harry Potter before you, Tony?”

“As have I,” Thor chimes in.

“Everyone in the world has,” Clint says.

[memorydragon]

Drawn That Way

So I started this fic a loooooong time ago.  Some time after Age of Ultron came out, which is the timeline for the fic as well, if you’re wondering.  Then it wasn’t going so well and I was writing other things for fests that were more time sensitive, and it got sidelined for a bit.  Then it spent an even longer time sitting in my notebook only half typed, because I was lazy and didn’t want to type anything.  But it’s done now, and beta’ed, so here you have it.

This really started from a post I remember seeing somewhere around the time I was first getting into the marvel fandom, of an artist complaining about how fic writers always have Steve drawing on paper, when so many artists now use a digital medium.  And Steve, while old fashioned, does pick up on technology pretty quick.  I have no idea who originally posted it, but artist, here is a fic for you of Steve using a tablet to draw.  Really though, this fic is for all the fanartists on tumblr, because you guys deserve lots of love.  Also, it’s for my followers who for some reason, stuck around this long.  Thanks for staying.

Thanks to @canolacrush for the beta, who tells me this is almost, but not quite, a character study.  No real warnings on this one, aside from Steve finding out about tumblr, the hard way sometimes.  

-

It started innocently enough. "-and the uniforms are due for an upgrade. How are they for movement?" "Hm," Steve replied, adding a few sharper lines. "... Wow, is that a bald eagle setting off fireworks over there?" "Sounds good," Steve said, frowning at his shading. He was drawing in pen, so he couldn't really fix it the way he wanted to. "And there's Bucky. Someone painted his arm pink, and it looks-" "Bucky?" Steve said once the words caught up to his ears. He looked around, but didn't see anyone with a metal arm, pink or otherwise. Tony snorted across from him, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. He looked a little angry despite the smile on his face. "I wondered what would get your attention," he said. Steve flushed and snapped, "Don't do that again." "Fine," Tony said, pushing the plate away. He hadn't even touched his food. "But if I'm talking to a wall, I can do that while getting work done at the Tower. And the walls there actually listen." Shame won over and Steve bit down the irritability that came with it. He really should have at least tried to pay enough attention so that he wouldn't be caught off guard. "Sorry," Steve said. "You started talking about mixing polymers, and I got a bit lost." "You could have just said I was boring you," Tony said, standing. "Stay," Steve said, grabbing his wrist across the table. "I should have been paying attention because this is important. I'm sorry." When Tony wasn't being prickly like now, Steve <I>did</I> enjoy listening. Tony's voice was animated and rich when he was talking about something he was excited about. He hadn't wanted Tony to <I>stop</I> talking exactly, but that was harder to explain. Tony sat back down finally, grudgingly. Tony was... Steve didn't want to say spoiling for a fight, because that wasn't true. Tony tried surprisingly hard to get along with everyone on the team despite his original lone wolf act. But he was easy to set off sometimes, especially around Steve. Steve looked around for some sort of peace offering - Tony tended to be mollified by food, which was why Steve chose a restaurant for the meeting, and Steve was willing to spare a few of his fries as an olive branch - but saw something better. "You can have what I was drawing?" Steve said, passing over the napkin and trying not to think about how he was essentially giving a doodle to a billionaire who could afford Picassos. It was far from even one of his better drawings since napkins weren't the greatest material to draw on, but at least he hadn't strayed too far when his concentration left. "Chibi-Iron Man? Really?" Tony said, his tone unimpressed, but there was a hint of a smile that he couldn't quite hide at the drawing of his alter ego holding up a victory sign. "Natasha showed the style to me. I thought it was cute," Steve said, relieved that it worked. Tony seemed to be humoring him now. "Do you always draw on napkins?" Tony asked, tracing some of the lines with his fingers absently. "Only when I don't have my notebook," Steve said sheepishly. "It's a bit bulky to carry around, so I don't always bring it. Plus it'd be kind of rude to just start drawing when I'm supposed to be listening... overtly, anyway." Tony raised an eyebrow but let it slide, humming softly as he pulled out his phone. Steve flushed when he realized Tony was snapping a picture of the drawing. "Ever try a tablet for drawing?" Tony asked. Steve winced. He'd been afraid of that question. "I didn't like it very much." Tony looked up at him in surprise. "You usually take to new technology pretty quickly. What happened with the tablet?" Sighing, Steve ran a hand through his hair. "It was too bulky and awkward. I've seen a lot of digital art that looks neat, but I couldn't get anything like that to work when I tried it." "Who showed it to you, SHIELD?" Tony asked, frowning slightly like he was trying to puzzle something out. "Never mind. Of course it was. They probably just opened up Microsoft Paint and told you to draw. Idiots." "I think that guy was actually one of the Hydra agents," Steve replied, thinking back. "Even worse," Tony said, tapping away at his phone. "Ever look up some tutorials?" "All the ones I found were for some expensive program," Steve replied with a sigh, pushing around a bit of ketchup with his french fry. "I didn't want to spend that much money when I could draw just as well on paper." He looked up at Tony's offended noise, finding himself on the end of a glare that was dangerously close to a pout. "Steve, money is not a problem. You know that, right? I'm pretty sure I have programs and scholarships that help artists to afford this kind of thing somewhere. Pepper's big on art." Shrugging, Steve ate the fry. "Didn't see much point. Like I said, I can still draw, and it's not like I need to do it for a paycheck." Tony snorted, then made a few more swipes at his phone. "I've bought you the current best recommended version of Photoshop and a proper tablet, and I'm sending you some YouTube tutorials. Much better than drawing on a napkin when you're out and about, I promise. Just have FRIDAY set it up for you when you get back. She can also help you find a site to post your art to if you want to share it with the rest of the world." Now he was going to have to try it again, if Tony was spending all that money on him. He'd learned the hard way early on just to accept Tony's gifts as long as they weren't too extravagant, so he forced a smile. "Thanks." "Should have come to me in the first place," Tony muttered. "I'll remember that next time," Steve said, the smile less forced. Tony might not be the most approachable, but he really tried for the team and it was honestly a pretty thoughtful and useful gift. He'd heard about the giant bunny fiasco. "So can you try running the polymer thing by me again? I promise I'll pay attention this time." "There will be a pop-quiz at the end," Tony said. * * * It was a few days before Steve really had enough time to play around with the new device. FRIDAY directed him to a new tablet that was apparently designed specifically for drawing, unlike his normal tablet. After watching a few of the tutorials, he was starting to see why that made a difference. It was enough for him to overcome his misgivings to give it a test run. By the end of the week, Steve never left the Avengers headquarters without it unless he was rushing to a mission. He made a mental note to thank Tony the next time he was in the city, because it was much better than a napkin. Maybe not something he'd use all the time, but it was certainly convenient. He was showing a drawing of a cat to Sam when his friend reminded him of the second idea Tony had proposed. "You should post those online," Sam said. "Why?" Steve asked, a little baffled. His art had never really been that good. He'd never done a gallery, and most of the time the drawings were just a way to keep his hands busy or work through his emotions. He rarely ever showed them to his friends. "It's what people do these days," Sam said with a wink. "You don't have to, but you should look into it. Meet some other artists." "You're as bad as Natasha," Steve said, shaking his head. "I don't need a date." "Never said you did," Sam said, leaning back in his chair. "But you could use someone to talk to that's not part of the Avengers or baby SHIELD." "You're not my therapist, Sam." "And thank God for that. I do <I>not</I> envy the shrink that has to deal with your sulking," Sam said with a laugh and a fake shudder. "I just set people up with the things they need to get better. I'll leave the psychoanalyzing to the professionals." Steve did not glare at Sam, because that would constitute as sulking and he refused to dignify that with an answer. Given how Sam started to laugh harder, it didn't work as well as Steve had hoped. "Just give it a shot," Sam said, clapping his shoulder. "You never know until you try. Worst case, people might actually like you." "I'll think about it," Steve said. He hadn't planned on following through, but Sam's crossed arms and unimpressed look got his hackles up. "Really?" Sam asked. "Really," Steve said mulishly, knocking Sam's legs down where he'd put them up on the table. "I'll ask FRIDAY about it tonight." He ended up not being able to ask that night as there was a call about some missing Chitauri weapons that the team had to take care of. A simple mission, at least. Only Rhodey was hurt, but his sprained ankle actually came from before the mission when he'd been sparring with Natasha, rather than the mission itself. The next night had Vision and Wanda going out with Natasha to show them more of the States, and Sam and Rhodey had some sort of poker game with a few of their fellow airmen. There were other SHIELD recruits but Steve wasn't as close to them as he was to the Avengers. Steve drew a quick picture of Vision and Wanda. Vision wasn't quite right, but Wanda had come out pretty well. He hadn't gotten the hang of coloring on the tablet yet, which might be what was off about Vision. "Would you like to post your drawings online, Cap?" FRIDAY asked brightly. Steve narrowed his eyes. "Sam asked you to pester me about this, didn't he?" "Falcon just asked to see if you would follow through on your promise," FRIDAY replied. He missed JARVIS. Talking with FRIDAY or Vision was a bit bitter-sweet. Vision was both JARVIS and not JARVIS in ways Steve only half-understood but accepted, and FRIDAY was a personality of her own. It wasn't the same anymore, and hearing her less formal speech reminded him of what they'd lost. He looked down at his drawing of Vision and Wanda, then shook his head. "I think this one's a little too personal to put online.  Posting art of the Avengers seems like it's too self-serving." "Not at all, Cap," FRIDAY replied, and Steve smiled at the nickname. It was nice getting to know FRIDAY, at least. His tablet pinged, and he opened the files FRIDAY sent. "These... They're not my art," he said, looking at the various drawings of the Avengers. "Many people draw the Avengers, from children to adults," FRIDAY said. "Where did you find all of these?" Steve asked, looking through the images. They were all sorts of different styles and a lot of them were really good. They put his own little drawing to shame, that's for sure. "These images were taken from a site called Tumblr," FRIDAY said. "Though there are many more sites such as DeviantArt, Instagram, and others." "How do you spell that first one?" Steve asked. He wasn't surprised to see it already in his URL bar when he got there, however. "Thanks." He had to make an account before he could really look through the site, but he only grumbled a little after FRIDAY assured him it was okay. Account made, he typed "Avengers" into the search bar and it came up with all sorts of different things, ranging from drawings, to text posts, to costumes, to pictures from their battles or interviews. Not all of them were good opinions either, but he was used to that. Or he was supposed to be used to that, not nearly breaking his tablet. He reminded himself everyone was entitled to their opinion. Though if anyone were to say that to his face about Natasha, Steve was pretty sure he was also entitled to expressing his own opinion. She wouldn't thank him for it, but she'd probably understand the brawl was started to make him feel better rather than to protect her honor. "There sure is a lot on here," Steve said, loading ten more posts. "You can also sort by post type if you only want to look at art and pictures," FRIDAY chimed in. "I'll keep that in-" Steve stopped, his jaw dropping open. He swallowed, feeling a blush spread across his face. "People draw stuff like this about us?" he asked, his voice cracking. "All the time, Cap," FRIDAY said. "It's very popular, but I can put on a clean search if you want. There's a lot of apps for that too as long as it's tagged." Steve nodded, then swallowed again, very glad when the image disappeared. He shifted, trying not to think about Thor in that position. His teammates were attractive, but he had enough problems in his life right now. "There's a lot on here," Steve said again, wondering what Natasha would think of the picture of her and Clint kissing. He wondered what <I>Laura</I> would think of that. He was pretty sure asking would just get him an unimpressed look on both accounts. He had to shift again at the next picture of Wanda and Natasha. They were both clothed, but he was still pretty sure that wasn't decent and again, he really didn't need to be thinking about his teammates like that. "Why would I post on this site?" Steve asked. "It's for more than just Avengers art. It's a way to connect with other people, and a lot of fans post on both Tumblr and a DeviantArt." He typed in the second site next, finding a more art-geared site. He didn't do a search this time, instead looking through some of the recommended pictures. Lots of people were commenting and saying how much they liked the art, which seemed nice. He went back to Tumblr and saw the notes on a few of the drawings. There were a lot more likes and reblogs, but some comments as well. Both sites looked like good networking and ways to showcase art, if in slightly different ways. Bringing up his own drawing, he compared it to the others. He felt outclassed by a lot of what he'd seen on both sites. He followed a few of the art blogs he liked though, because no one would connect Captain America to midnightracer18. He doubted anyone would remember that radio show, but it would fit in even if people did. 'Fandom' seemed big enough on the two sites that no one would blink, even if it was really old. * * * Steve was a bit shy sometimes, but it was surprisingly easier to talk to people online. It was nice to meet people without Captain America hanging over his head. It'd been a long time since he'd been plain old Steve Rogers, and that was more of a relief than he'd have thought. A few of his online acquaintances were supportive and convinced him to post his drawings, so he posted to both Tumblr and DeviantArt. He was pleasantly surprised to see he gained a small following, and the small bit of garnered fame was fun. His days with the USO hadn't been all bad, and he was pretty used to having a double identity to begin with. After a few weeks of steadily gaining followers, Steve got his first anonymous message. '<I>Do you take requests for what to draw?</I>' it asked. Steve considered the question. He mostly posted little doodles of the other Avengers or ordinary objects or scenery. He still preferred drawing by hand, but the tablet was very convenient so he found himself on it frequently. So time-wise, it wouldn't be too much of an issue. A request though... he'd seen some of the other artists do them, or they took commissions. As long as there weren't a lot of them, it shouldn't be too bad, right? '<I>Sure,</I>' he wrote back, posting it to his blog. '<I>No requests for explicit art will be accepted and no guarantees, but if I've got time, I'll give it a try.</I>' The next day he and Natasha were discussing the new training regimen for the team when he casually checked his messages and nearly choked on air. "What is it?" Natasha asked, glancing over his shoulder before Steve could hide his phone. "You're on Tumblr? '<I>Could you draw Captain America and Tony Stark kissing?</I>' I'm hurt that you haven't told me about this, Steve." "It's not... It's a request," he said. "I just put up some doodles I make sometimes." "We'll talk about you not telling me about joining social media later," Natasha said, then smirked. "Right now I think we need to talk about you drawing yourself and Tony kissing." With friends like these, Steve didn't need enemies. "Nat..." "You gonna do it?" she asked, not letting up. "I don't know," Steve said, rubbing at his forehead. "I didn't think... That's weird, isn't it?" Natasha shrugged. "A bit creepy, yeah. But it's a harmless enough request. If it makes you uncomfortable, just say so. Or you could give the fans what they want." "And what if it was <I>you</I> they wanted a picture kissing?" Steve asked. "Then you better get my good side and be better at drawing kissing than you are at giving an actual kiss," Natasha teased. "Seriously though, you can tell them no kissing if you want. Do what you're comfortable with. Drawing your teammates making out is kinda weirder for you than it would be for someone who doesn't know us personally." "I wasn't that bad," Steve said, giving her a mock glare. "Why do people like that sort of thing?" He didn't draw himself for the most part, and the proposal of drawing himself kissing another teammate was daunting. "Gives it more acceptance for some people, seeing their favorite celebrities not being straight. Other people just enjoy hot guys making out," Natasha said with a shrug. "It's up to you, Steve. Just remember you can say no." Steve nodded. He could understand the acceptance part, at least. He bit his lip, torn on what to do. "Are you going to do it?" Natasha asked again, curious rather than teasing. "I think I might have an alternative," Steve said turning the idea around in his head. * * * The next day Steve posted a reply. '<I>I don't really feel comfortable drawing real people like that, but hopefully these two toons will make up for it.</I>' Attached was a picture of a cat in a Captain America uniform and a mouse in the Iron Man suit with the helmet off, giving the cat a very chaste kiss. He labeled them Iron Mouse and Captain Americat. He signed off, satisfied that he had at least tried to fulfill the request. It was actually easier than he thought, as long as it wasn't really his teammates. He signed on the next day and was extremely surprised to see the picture had gotten over a thousand notes and he'd gained a handful of new followers. He clicked through the comments and tags, smiling in spite of himself. There were a few negative comments, but otherwise most of them ran along the lines of 'omg! it's so cute!' He frowned at one of the tags, googling 'OTP: Stony'. "Cap," Sam said, walking in. "I've been looking for - you know, I'm not one to assume or judge, but if that blush means you're looking at porn, Wanda and Vision will be back soon so you might want to take it out of the common areas." He threw Sam an exasperated look, which Sam returned with a cheeky smile. "Not porn then. So what makes Steve Rogers blush?" "Do a lot of people want certain celebrities to get together?" Steve asked, feeling foolish. The USO girls had talked about the Hollywood rags, of course, and come to think of it, a few of them probably had the same level of devotion towards certain couples, but Steve honestly felt a little out of his depth on this one. Sam laughed, the bastard. "That's a thing people have always done. Don't play that innocent kid from the 40s, Cap. It ain't gonna work on me anymore." Steve settled back into his earlier glare. "Before, it was never about <I>me</I> though." Sam raised an eyebrow. "Not me-me," Steve clarified. "It was Captain America everyone thought of from the propaganda." "And that's different from now, how?" It really wasn't, other than Steve had been mostly unaware of it, but Steve didn't particularly feel like being reasonable. "Okay, old man," Sam said with a laugh. "I'll take your word on it. So how did a geezer like you stumble onto such modern vices?" "I've been posting some of my art online and people are tagging it with OTP," Steve explained. "I'll admit, I'm not that up on internet slang," Sam said. "OTP?" "One True Pairing," Steve said, a little smug now that he was more up to date than Sam. Never mind that he had just looked it up himself. Come to think of it though, he'd seen it before on some of his pictures of Wanda and Vision, and the one of Rhodey and Sam, so at least it wasn't just him and Tony. "I'm sure that makes sense in some language," Sam said, shaking his head. "Anyway, I came in to talk to you about a lead I got on our missing person." Steve immediately put the tablet down. "You found him?" "I found a trail," Sam cautioned. "I'll need a few days to check it out. Wanted to check in before I left." "Do you need back up?" "I'll call if I do." Sam gripped Steve's shoulder reassuringly when Steve looked down. "We'll find him. He gets squirrel-y with you around though, and you're needed here. Let me try alone this time and see if it makes a difference." "I know," Steve said, managing a weak smile. "Thanks." "No problem. Don't let the team fall apart while I'm gone. I've grown attached to the crazy," Sam said. "Be safe," Steve said, giving Sam a sloppy salute as he walked out. As soon as Sam was gone, Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping. He stared down at his tablet again. Then he opened up Photoshop and started to draw. He really wasn't surprised it was Bucky that started to stare out at him. How Bucky used to be, but his eyes... Steve tried a few times, but he couldn't get them right. Not with the way Bucky had stared at him on the helicarrier. He scribbled a black box over Bucky's eyes in frustration. He didn't post the picture. It felt too personal. * * * Steve caught on to Tumblr lingo pretty quickly, and though it was weird, he got used to the idea of other people 'shipping' his teammates. As long as he could avoid seeing himself on there, he was fine. Which, amusingly enough, got him a few questions about if he hated Captain America and why he didn't draw Cap more. He usually responded with a Captain Americat. It was enough of its own character that he could use it to poke fun at himself without feeling too self-conscious. A lot of people liked the animal Avengers, and they requested the others a lot too. Steve had a lot of fun with some of the puns, and one or two odd pairings that he suspected came from Natasha, but could never prove due to them being anon messages. The more explicit she asked for, the tamer Steve twisted the prompt, which was fun in its own way, and a few of the others started sending him things with the intention of twisting them too. Still, he'd have preferred not to have ever known about the 'alpha/omega' trope. Thankfully, Steve had been catching up on sci-fi and other genres, so that was easy enough to get around. He was drawing the Scarlet Pooch and Black Widowbird holding hands when he got the message. Steve went straight to the gym, taking out the punching bag and decimating it within five minutes. He was on his fourth bag when he realized he wasn't alone, and he nearly jumped when he saw Vision so close. "Uh, hi," Steve said, trying to regain his bearings. He hated when Vision did that. "Something wrong, Captain?" Vision asked. "FRIDAY informed me that you were going through punching bags at an accelerated rate. I thought I should inquire if you needed assistance." Steve turned back to the punching bag. "I'm fine," he said. "I'm rather afraid your vital signs say you are lying." Sometimes he hated the fact that Vision had instant access to all of the safety monitors in the gym and probably a few of his own. "That was overstepping, wasn't it?" Vision asked, sadness in his eyes. Steve sighed, resting his head on the punching bag. "It's fine. I'm pretty sure anyone else would have called me on that too," Steve said. Vision was still learning how to deal with humans, and it wasn't his fault Steve was grouchy. Steve pulled back finally, rubbing his forehead. Sulking wasn't going to get him anywhere. "I've been posting some of my art online," he said as he started to unwrap his hands. He really wanted to keep hitting the bag, but the wrap had spots of red on it already. "Someone's been reposting it. They have credit on there, but it still feels really horrible." "Ah, you mean your posts on Tumblr and DeviantArt," Vision said. "We have been following them with great amusement. Wanda particularly liked one of the profile picture you did of her using her powers." "Does everyone know about that?" Steve asked, a blush working its way down to his neck. He'd thought the internet was more anonymous. "We were not aware you wished it to be a secret from us." It was a bit embarrassing to know his teammates followed his art posts, especially with the 'shippy' requests. Knowing his friends had been viewing his art was a bit worse, but nothing that Steve was really upset over. He just really liked being anonymous. "I should have known you guys would find it," he said, shaking his head.  "I asked the person who was reposting to take it down, but they said they gave me credit and insisted they could leave it up.  I contacted Tumblr about it, but some of my friends on the site say that the staff take forever to respond." "Captain, if you require it, FRIDAY and I could speed the process along," Vision said. "That wouldn't help everyone else with the same problem," Steve said, closing his eyes.  "But thanks." "We'll do what we can," Vision said, looking dispirited as well.  While not as big or life-threatening, the reminder that they couldn't help everyone still stung. "I just don't understand why a person would do that," Steve said, sitting down on the bench as he grabbed a water bottle and held the cold water against his forehead.  His stomach twisted into knots thinking about it, and even if he wasn't paid for his art, it still felt like someone was stealing a bit of his soul.  He was angry and hurt and with the internet being what it was, he had no face to blame or recompense to find.  It just... hurt. "I'm afraid I understand human nature even less," Vision said, floating to sit beside Steve.  "I'm not sure I can be of much help in answering that question." "It was more rhetorical than anything," Steve explained.  He didn't understand it, but he did know some of the reasons people would steal the drawings.  Attention, mistaken sense of doing the artist a <I>favor</I> by showing more people their art, among other things.  It just hurt more than it should, and it wasn't like he could get into an old-fashioned brawl over it anymore.  It felt like he was still being shoved up against the wall and beaten though, just without the satisfaction of getting a punch or two in first.  He'd rather be small again and in a fist fight than having to deal with the feeling of someone reposting his art. "Perhaps joining the rest of the team for dinner would help your mood?" Vision asked hesitantly. Steve thought about it.  He really wanted to keep punching things, but that never solved anything back when he'd first woken up.  Fury was, annoyingly enough, right about trying to get him back in the world. "Alright," he said with a sigh.  "Though I don't think I'll be very good company at the moment." "The others are more than used to your sulking, Captain," Vision said reassuringly.  "I'm sure they don't mind." "Thanks," Steve said dryly, because as strange as Vision found humanity, he certainly hadn't lost the sharp wit that Tony had given JARVIS. * * * Wanda was quiet.  Steve didn't know if she was always like that, or if the death of her brother still weighed so heavily on her, but she was good company when Steve didn't want to talk but also didn't want to be alone.  And once he knew the other Avengers had found out about his art, he didn't feel so self-conscious drawing around them. He was still smarting from the reposts, and he hadn't really uploaded any new art or checked Tumblr either.  He kept drawing, because it gave his hands something to do while Sam still hadn't reported in and Tony was missing their weekly lunch because he was on another continent for business.  It made focusing harder though, because every line reminded him of how much it'd hurt. And no, contrary to what the Avengers thought, Steve was not sulking about either of those two things. His phone beeped, and he put down the drawing of Peggy he'd been doing. Picking it up, he raised an eyebrow, then looked at Wanda.  She waved. "I am right here," Steve said. "It's something I think you should see," Wanda said with a small smile. Shaking his head, Steve unlocked his phone then tapped at the link she sent him.  It was a Tumblr post, which made him wary, but he figured Wanda was sending it to him for a reason. It was a text post, not one written by anyone he'd talked to on the site before.  Curiosity got the better of him, and he started to read. '<I>Sorry I haven't been responding to a lot of y'all.  It's been really hard after Connie's death.  But I just wanted to give a shout out to Ter for showing me @midnightracer18's art tag.  The art is so cute and honest, and even after everything, it brought a smile to my face.  I know Connie would have loved them too.  Thank you for the wonderful art, and God bless!</I>' Steve stared at the words, barely understanding their meaning, though he'd memorized the message within seconds.  His throat was uncomfortably tight, but he couldn't put a finger on why. "Steve?" Wanda asked. "Trying to convince me to get back to posting art?" Steve asked when his voice started to work again. "After my family died, I was so angry," Wanda said.  "And I did terrible things because of it.  And after Pietro..." Wanda's breath hitched softly.  "After Pietro died, I was angry all over again.  You helped me realize that there was more to life than anger." "You did that on your own," Steve said.  She had handled her brother's death much better than he had waking up in the future, and that was all because she was trying.  They had a lot in common, but Wanda didn't need the same push he had to get back out into the world. "It was easier with everyone's forgiveness and friendship," Wanda replied, shaking her head.  She stood then, heading to the door.  "Just think about it, Steve.  Anger doesn't suit you." As she left, Steve opened his notebook again, staring down at Peggy.  Unlike Bucky, her eyes had remained the same.  So bright and lively when she was in her more lucid moments.  He knew what she would tell him.  She always called him on his dramatics. Setting the picture aside, Steve looked through the blog Wanda had sent him.  Then he picked up his tablet and started to draw. * * * '<I>For @Melaniequickstep.  To absent friends,</I>' read Steve's transcript.  Above it was a picture of the Howling Commandos, drawn from Steve's memory.  Bucky had been the hardest, because Steve couldn't quite let go of how much he had failed him.  Was still failing. The picture was raw and too private, but he posted it anyway, because if there was one thing he knew, it was the feeling of <I>grief</I> that ate away at your soul until there was nothing left.  And grief didn't get better for sharing it, but being alone in grief was worse.  He had done himself no favors by closing up about it, and for someone who was brave enough to show their grief openly, Steve could only try not to let them down. An hour after it was posted, Wanda came in to sit with him, curled up in a chair with a book Rhodey had bought her.  It was enough. * * * "Have you heard of confidentiality, Cap?" Fury said by way of greeting. "Because I'm starting to think you don't know the meaning of the word." Steve looked up from the drawing he was working on, knowing he was busted. "People have pictures of you from the Avengers' fights, sir," he said. Fury was in a hoodie with sunglasses, looking for all the world like he'd been living under a bridge for the past few years.  Steve knew that wasn't the case, thankfully, but the disguise was useful.  "And your obituary ran in the papers with your name." Fury sighed, sitting next to Steve on the park bench.  "Nick Furry?  Really?" "I thought Agents of S.H.E.E.P. was clever," Steve said with a sly smile. Fury shook his head.  "I can have those pictures removed." The man was more amused than he was letting on, so Steve leaned back on the park bench he'd been sitting on.  "You know that would only spark more interest." "You're full of shit, Rogers.  I hope you know that," Fury said, but he was smiling.  Steve knew for a fact that Fury loved the Avengers' brand of bullshit, even when it drove him mad.  "But you happen to be right about that.  None of that shipping business though. I know Romanov has sent you something, so do us both a favor and delete it." Steve nodded, knowing exactly which request in his unfinished drafts it was.  He figured he could get away with a shady-looking '<I>REDACTED</I>' on an Agents of S.H.E.E.P. logo.  "Yes, sir." They sat quietly for a while.  Fury watched people pass by as Steve continued his drawing.  It was a small park, but sometimes Steve liked to get away from the Avengers' compound.  Fury would get to his reason for being here soon enough, and it was a nice day. Finally, Fury handed him five dollars.  Steve tilted his head in question.  "For a commission," Fury explained. Steve couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.  "I don't usually take commissions, but isn't that price a little low?" "Would have worked in the 40s," Fury muttered.  "I used to pay your salary." "Artists have to make a living just as much as the next S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, sir," Steve said.  "They deserve to be paid for their work." "I thought you weren't taking commissions?" Fury groused, but with a sleight of the hand, the fiver became a fifty.  "This meet your standards?" Steve felt self-conscious despite his words, because he really wasn't strapped for cash and most of his drawings were just to give his hands something to do.  But he'd seen enough posts about artists having to charge too low for prices, and he did want to drive that point home.  He accepted the fifty.  "I guess I can give a former superior officer a discount." Fury barked a laugh, shaking his head.  "I forget you're from the Depression era.  You drive a hard bargain," he said.  "I don't want this one online." "Alright," Steve said, since Fury seemed intent on paying him for the commission. He suspected there was a bet of some kind at stake, but he couldn't quite figure out what.  The one thing he did know is that Fury made sure he could win before making a bet.  "What kind of drawing do you want?" Fury slid a picture towards him.  "I assume you recognize the kid." Steve did.  It was one of Clint's kids. "I was gonna ask for a quick doodle, but if you're taking me for fifty bucks, it better be good." "Can I ask why, sir?" Steve said, feeling it was a bit odd that Fury was asking him instead of Clint. "I may or may not be settling a score on whether godparents give better presents than parents and are cooler," Fury said.  "Clint and I agreed we'd pay the same price and see who won." Steve hadn't realized that Fury was one of the children's godparents.  It was surprisingly sweet, and Steve flipped the picture over to see it was dated from last month, with her full name of 'Lila Nicole Barton' inscribed on the back.  "Two weeks good enough for a deadline?" he asked, resolving to work extra hard on the art. "It'll do," Fury said.  "Her birthday's next month." "Then it'll be my pleasure, sir," Steve said, having the feeling that Clint was going to kill him for this.  Probably because of the other children's jealousy.  Still, now the fact that Fury wanted to pay him made a lot more sense. "I'll see you in two weeks then," Fury said with a nod, glancing over Steve's shoulder at what he'd been working on.  "Stark?  Really?" "It's for a request," Steve said, feeling his cheeks heat at Fury's eyebrows raising, though he couldn't pinpoint why. "Uh-huh.  Keep telling yourself that, Rogers," Fury said, standing and shoving his hands in his pockets before ambling off.  "Two weeks." Steve decided he'd do two drawings, one serious like Fury had asked for, and one of Lila as Black Widowbird next to Agent Furry.  After all, he did take the man for fifty, and friends and family got discounts if they were going to insist on paying. The photo he got of Lila holding the two drawings a month later was definitely worth Clint grousing about how the kids would never give him peace after that. * * * "So," Rhodey said, startling Steve out of his thoughts.  Steve looked up from the towel he'd been using to wipe off his post-run sweat and caught a protein bar before it hit him in the face. "So," Steve said, tugging off his running shoes. "We need to talk," Rhodey said. Even in the 40s, that was a pretty ominous phrase.  "Okay?" he said, wondering if he'd screwed up on the field.  Technically, he and Natasha were running the Avengers, but Rhodey was not only a higher-ranking officer, but also older and more experienced.  Steve knew better than to brush that off, especially if it was something in the field of air support. "Meet me in the kitchens after you've cleaned up," Rhodey replied, giving him a short wave as he left. Dread started to take over the pit in his stomach.  Steve forced down the protein bar and prepared for either a dressing-down or an argument that Tony would likely hear about.  And Tony... Best not to think about Tony, especially not when he'd definitely back Rhodey on anything. Thirty minutes later, Steve walked in to find Rhodey making waffles and omelettes, and Steve nearly walked back out again.  This was <I>bad</I>.  "Did I do something wrong?" he asked, going through every little thing he'd done in the past three weeks.  Was this about the War Machine drawing he'd done?  Had he misremembered the armor? Rhodey looked surprised.  "What gave you that idea?" Steve gestured to the waffles.  "You fall back on Tony-tactics even for the rest of us.  Blueberry waffles are his favorite." Rhodey laughed, so Steve figured he couldn't be in that much trouble.  Still, he sat down gingerly at the kitchen counter.  "Guess I do sort of tailor my interventions to Tony.  He's usually the only one I have to intervene with," Rhodey said. "Intervention?" Steve asked, trying to think if the others had complained about his sulking lately.  But Tony had managed two lunches this week and a movie to try to distract him from Bucky and Sam, so he didn't think it was that. "Intervention," Rhodey said more grimly, setting a plate of waffles in front of Steve. The omelette was still hot too.  When Rhodey didn't say anything more, Steve figured he was waiting for him to try the food. After pouring some syrup over the waffles, Steve took a bite.  "This is really good," he said, impressed.  It was mouth-wateringly good.  Once he could think properly again, he was going to have to sit down with Tony and come up with a tactic that would get Rhodey to make them more often. "Yeah, well, Tony can cook, but not particularly <I>well</I>.  If I wanted something a step above edible in college, I had to make it to the kitchen before Tony," Rhodey said with a grin as Steve started to eat in earnest.  Putting his own plate down as he sat next to Steve, Rhodey started to pour a surprising amount of syrup on his waffles. "Speaking of Tony..." "Hm?" Steve said around a bite. "When were you going to tell me you are in love with my best friend?" Steve was caught mid-swallow, and he ended up choking on the omelette.  As he coughed and sputtered, Rhodey pat his back.  "Yeah, that always works on Tony too," he said smugly, letting Steve know he'd been had. "Bastard," Steve gasped once he stopped hacking up a lung. "Language, Cap.  Tony was right about that foul mouth of yours." He hated both of them so much. "Done?" Rhodey asked innocently. Steve glared as he drew in another breath.  "I-I'm not -  I am not in love with Tony.  What made you think that?" Rhodey leaned back, shaking his head.  "Seriously, Cap?  You sulk for two weeks every time Tony has a business trip and misses your lunches together.  Not to mention your drawings you post." "I... don't sulk for two weeks," Steve said.  Rhodey didn't even grace that with an answer.  "And what do you mean about my drawings?" Rhodey picked up a tablet that had been on the counter, unlocking it and sliding it over to Steve.  He wondered how much Rhodey had set up in advance, then glanced through the tabs that were open.  A lot, apparently. The first tab was his Clint tag on Tumblr, followed by Natasha's and Thor's.  He had one for each of the Avengers set up, with Tony's in the far corner at the end.  He looked at Rhodey to see what he was supposed to make of this. "Anyone ever mention how bull-headed you are?" Rhodey said with a sigh.  "Notice anything about the quantities, Cap?" "Just because I post more of Tony than the others doesn't mean I'm in love with him," Steve said, not quite meeting Rhodey's eyes.  "He's popular for the requests.  And I can't...  I can't seem to get him <I>right</I>, so I have to keep practicing." "Sure, man.  River in Egypt," Rhodey said with a snort.  "Not that I disapprove, but the Tony Stark Defense Squad?" This time Steve flushed.  "They were being bullies," he said mulishly.  "If they have freedom of  speech to bad-mouth him, I'm free to have my own opinion." "Like I said, you're not getting any flak from me," Rhodey said.  "I'm just saying.  Even your fans think Tony is your favorite." Steve did not want to know how everyone else managed to keep a closer eye on his online presence than he did.  He bit into his waffle to give himself time to think. Sighing, Rhodey shook his head.  "Look, I just wanna know when you're going to make an honest man out of Tony, because God knows he needs it." Steve was never eating with Rhodey <I>ever again</I>, waffles or no.  After the second choking attempt, Steve glared.  "Does Tony know you're doing this?" "Tony is... whatever the reports say, he's not self-absorbed," Rhodey said, then tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Okay, maybe a little.  But most of it is that he can be a little <I>too</I> focused, and generally in his own world, not ours.  If it's not within his immediate sphere, he doesn't always notice.  Did you tell him about your Tumblr?" Thinking back, Steve realized he hadn't.  Tony had asked if he found the tablet useful, but not about posting online.  He hadn't pushed on that, and Steve had been grateful.  "No, I haven't," Steve answered. "Then he probably doesn't know," Rhodey said.  "He doesn't keep track of everyone's movements like some people think, and it's not my place to tell him.  But you should talk to him about it." "Not saying I'm agreeing about the love thing, but why?" Steve asked.  "Tony is..."  Out of Steve's league, that's for certain.  There was no way Tony would go for a kid from Brooklyn, much less someone as stuck in the past as Steve was. "Because I like it when Tony is happy," Rhodey said, his shoulders slumping.  "Which isn't that often lately.  He was happy when he and Pepper were together, happier than I've seen him in a while.  But now that they've broken up..." Rhodey broke off some of his omelette, but didn't eat it.  Instead he stared down at the plate without really seeing the food.  "Look, Cap.  I'm not saying it's easy being in Tony's orbit, but it's <I>worth</I> it.  And I think you know that already.  He's still too caught up in Pepper to realize it, but he's pretty far gone on you too.  And I'd like two of my friends to be happy." "Friends."  Steve flushed, smiling shyly in spite of the topic.  The fact that Rhodey considered him a friend meant a lot, and Steve hoped he could be worthy of that friendship, even if being a matchmaker probably wasn't one of Rhodey's strongest abilities. "Just think about it, okay?" Rhodey said, finally taking a bite of his own food. Steve didn't know how to respond to that, so he nodded.  He had enough food for thought to last him for a while in the very least. * * * As Steve sketched a picture of Rhodey smiling in uniform, Steve thought about what he had said.  <I>Was</I> he in love with Tony? The idea seemed preposterous, but the more he thought about it, the more Steve started accidentally drawing Tony's eyes. He ended up having to erase Rhodey's face, and start over again. Sure, Tony was charming when he wasn't actively trying to piss you off. Steve <I>liked</I> his lunches with Tony, even more when the super heroing business was slow and they talked about other things. And Tony was obviously attractive, no one could deny that, especially not when he wore that red shirt under his suit and took off his jacket to reveal the vest underneath. And yes, he worried about how Tony never seemed to get much sleep, and he hated it when Steve said the wrong thing and left a sad expression on Tony's face.  Or worse, when he set Tony on the defensive.  But he hated when that happened with the others too.  He'd always <I>known</I> about his attraction to Peggy, so it wasn't like this sort of thing usually snuck up on him. With a sigh, Steve gave up on the Rhodey drawing for now.  He'd return to it later when he was more focused and could give it the attention it deserved. "Okay, you're sulking worse than usual," Natasha said as she walked in the common room.  "What is it this time?  Tony cancelled lunch or Sam with bad news about Bucky?" Steve winced, then crossed his arms over his chest.  "Those aren't the only two things I think about." "I said <I>sulking</I>, not thinking." He refused to believe she had a point about that. "I can use other means to find out," Natasha said casually, and he knew that wasn't a threat of violence.  "I don't want to, but you're driving me and the team crazy, and that will start to affect the team work." Steve sighed.  He <I>could</I> leave to avoid her, figuring that was the reason she gave him the courtesy of the warning.  It was a warped definition of consent, but their lives had never exactly been normal. He was going to do this with more dignity than letting her ease him into dropping his guard, however.  "Am I..." he asked tentatively, then steeled himself.  "Am I in love with Tony?" Natasha snorted.  "No shit, Sherlock," she said.  He smiled weakly, and she did a double-take.  "Wait, that was a serious question?  That's a little far in denial even for you, Steve." "Yes, it's a serious question," Steve admitted grumpily, ignoring the latter half of her statement. "Steve, I can do a lot of things, but I can't answer that question for you." Natasha's voice was gentle as she placed a hand on his arm. "But can you tell me what it looks like from the outside?" he asked, because he trusted her judgement on most things. Natasha regarded him, probably weighing the pros and cons of letting him figure it out himself versus telling him.  She decided on the latter, and Steve was quietly relieved. "The only ones you're like this with are Bucky and Peggy, and you don't look at Bucky the way you look at Tony," she said.  "You brighten up considerably when Tony makes it to an Avengers meeting, and I know the others think you're completely gone on him.  The art you draw of him feels almost like he's alive on the paper, more so than for any of the rest of us." Steve soaked that in, taking her words at face value and resisting the urge to deny it. They felt true, even if he hadn't wanted to see it. "And I know you've already figured all of that out," Natasha said with a sigh.  "So I don't know why you're asking me." She did know why, because Steve had needed to hear it, but he ignored the jab at his denial.  Except now, he had no clue where to go from here. If he was in love with Tony, what did he do with that information? "I'd offer to set you up, but he wouldn't trust it from me," Natasha said, as if sensing his thoughts.  "Rhodey might be able to pull something off though.  He and Tony have been each other's wingmen in the past." That was the last thing he needed.  "I'll pass, thanks," he said.  He wasn't sure what he wanted, but having his hand forced was not it. Natasha shrugged.  "Just saying.  You don't tap that ass soon, it might get taken.  It <I>is</I> a really fine ass, after all.  Don't tell him I said that, though." Steve opened his mouth to argue, then shut it.  Tony <I>did</I> have a nice posterior, and any attempt to save his dignity would backfire the same way his comment about Tony cussing had. He wasn't in a hurry to repeat that sort of merciless teasing. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, and by the look on her face, his tone was probably still on the stuffy and judgemental side.  He ignored her laugh and went back to drawing Rhodey.  He would finish this picture even if it killed him. * * * Natasha's words followed him throughout the week.  Would it be bad if someone else made Tony happy? It's not like Steve was particularly good at relationships.  Or very interesting at all, outside of the uniform.  He was old-fashioned and still not handling the future as well as he should have been.  Oh, he could assimilate and fit in, but really accepting things...  he still had a long way to go. "-figured we'd just put your shield on EBay and let it go to the-" "What?" Steve said, snapping out of his thoughts. "<I>Now</I> I've got your attention," Tony said, rolling his eyes. Steve really needed to stop drifting off around Tony.  Especially since he'd been thinking about Tony. "Sorry," he said, hoping he wasn't blushing too badly, or if he was, that Tony would take it as embarrassment for being caught.  They were at one of their usual restaurants today, Steve feeling less inclined to branch out with all that was going on. "You okay, Cap?"  Tony asked. At least this time Tony hadn't turned defensive.  He looked concerned though, and Steve didn't want that.  He didn't know what to say to soothe the worry, however. Tony was surprisingly patient as Steve tried to find the right phrase.  Finally, Steve sighed and shook his head.  "Sorry.  Just thinking about a lot of things lately."  Not his best redirection, but it was better than silence. "Bucky?" Tony asked, looking away.  Something changed in Tony, but it was so subtle that Steve almost missed it.  Even now, Steve couldn't quite pinpoint whether it was the sudden tension in Tony's shoulders or the cagey, darting glance away that tipped him off.  But for the first time Steve <I>noticed</I>, and he quickly reviewed previous times they had spoken of Bucky in his head.  Tony had always been so supportive of finding Bucky, and it made Steve feel a little guilty for not telling Tony about his parents.  The guilt had made it easy to miss the split-second reaction to Bucky, but while he didn't have a completely eidetic memory, it was close.  And now that he noticed, he could see it in other memories as well. What he still couldn't decide was <I>what</I> the look meant. "Not Bucky," Steve said finally, then shook his head.  "Not entirely, at any rate.  Sam's coming back next week because the lead was a bust, but there's been something else I've been thinking about." It would have been an easy out to say Bucky was the cause of his inattention, and Steve had considered the strategic value of a retreat.  But he also knew that the old adage rang true: Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  He was curious about how Tony would react. "Oh?" Tony asked.  And there the change was again, except this time it was more open.  Relaxed, almost.  "So what causes the Great Captain America to <I>not</I> sigh after his long lost best friend?  Though, sorry to hear about that, by the way.  I can put out feelers again if you want?" The frustrating part was that he <I>knew</I> Natasha  would have had the answer to why the change was important by now, but she wasn't here and it still eluded him.  "I <I>do</I> think about other things," Steve said, trying his hardest not to sulk. "Sure, sure.  Just not about our lunch meetings," Tony mumbled, low enough that Steve had probably not been meant to hear it, but people tended to forget Steve had better than average senses.  Tony had sounded almost bitter. Steve quickly took inventory of how many times he'd drifted off during the actual 'business' parts of their lunches and came to the conclusion Tony might have made a few incorrect conclusions about Steve's occasional distractions. "It's your voice," Steve said, knowing it wouldn't <I>fix</I> things exactly, and it would embarrass the hell out of him, but it was better than nothing. "My voice puts you off?" Tony asked, then softer, "That's a first." "Not put off," Steve said, possibly too quickly.  "It's just... soothing.  I <I>like</I> listening to you talk.  I feel more relaxed. Comfortable." Tony was looking at him like he'd grown a second head, and Steve felt a blush creep down his neck.  He rubbed at his forehead, trying not to feel self-conscious and failing.  "I just... feel at ease enough to drift off a bit, I guess," Steve said, which now that he thought about it, was no mean feat.  He'd been in enough battles to know letting his guard down could get him killed.  But with Tony, that wasn't part of his focus, to constantly scan the room, looking for an enemy that wasn't there. "You might as well come down to the workshop then, rather than the lunch meetings," Tony grumbled.  "I talk just as much there and at least <I>someone</I> listens." "I could do that?" Steve asked, blown away by the offer.  If it was an offer, he reminded himself.  Tony didn't exactly sound happy, and only Rhodey and Ms. Potts could go down there.  On rare occasions, Natasha went down as well, but Steve was never sure if she was allowed or if she found other ways. "Sure?" Tony said, confusion replacing the annoyance in his tone.  "Why not?  Just give me a heads up if you're serious." "I'd like that," Steve said.  He nearly added 'as long as we can also go to dinner', but decided he wasn't quite up to that yet. "Okay?" Tony asked, apprehensive and baffled. "Thank you," Steve replied, absently sorting through his schedule to see when he'd be free to visit the Tower. "Right," Tony said, still not quite believing it.  "Anyway, back to the point, Mr. Deflection.  What are you caught up on?" '<I>You</I>,' Steve wanted to say, but again, he couldn't quite find the voice. "Nothing really important.  Sorry, just..." Tony closed off again, and this time Steve could easily see it in the way his shoulders hunched over.  "Well, I've got a meeting with Monica to prepare for, so I'll-" <I>Monica?</I>  Steve grabbed Tony's hand as he stood up, well aware it was crossing a line, but Natasha's warning about someone else 'tapping that ass' made it too hard to throttle the impulse. "You gonna let go of my hand, Jack?" Tony groused, something in the name telling Steve it was a reference. "<I>No</I>," Steve said, and there was a bit of sulking in his voice, but he didn't care. But he did have a decision to make.  Unfortunately, he couldn't muster up the courage to actually ask, which was his main problem.  He'd been lucky with Peggy.  She'd seen right through him. He always was better with actions than with words.  Without consciously thinking about it, Steve pulled Tony's hand towards him. "Steve, what are you-" He kissed the back of Tony's hand before he could second-guess his actions.  He closed his eyes as he did, not sure if he wanted to see Tony's reaction or not. When Tony didn't pull away or make a sound, Steve looked up.  Tony was blushing, the color chasing across his cheeks faster than Steve thought possible.  He was pretty sure Tony Stark didn't Blush before this.  Tony's eyes were wide and flustered, but Steve saw the emotion in them before it could be hidden away.  This was <I>wanted</I>. "Monica Chang is the second in command of security.  She works with Maria," Tony babbled, gesturing absently with his free hand. "Oh," Steve said, feeling a little foolish.  Then lightheaded, because Tony hadn't actually tried to pull away.  "We could go back to the Tower and-" "I don't know what you've read in the tabloids, but I am a dinner and flowers kind of guy now," Tony said. Steve raised an eyebrow, not believing it in the slightest. "And I really do have a meeting with Monica," Tony amended with a sigh. "Okay," Steve said, turning Tony's hand over and kissing his palm.  "Dinner and flowers first.  Then going back to the Tower." "I thought you 40s boys went slower," Tony said, shaking his head and looking a little dazed. "'I'm shipping out tomorrow' usually means faster relationships," Steve replied, though Tony had a point.  Steve <I>wasn't</I> the sort to take things this fast normally.  But it felt like they'd been dancing around this for a while, even if Steve hadn't seen it, and he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.  He'd waited too long with Peggy, and missed his chance.  He wasn't going to let that chance slip away again.  "I'll see you at eight?" "<I>Tomorrow</I>," Tony said, but he didn't seem that bothered by how fast they were going.  And if Tony actually wanted to slow down, Steve would wait for that.  He just wanted his intentions clear. Steve gave Tony's hand another squeeze before letting him go.  He had a date to plan, after all. He didn't miss the waitress's "<I>Finally</I>" as they walked out, however, though he was pretty sure she had waited until they were out of earshot. Finally indeed. * * * A month later, Tony was stretched out on Steve's bed at the Avengers compound. Moonlight strained in through the glass windows, illuminating the peaceful expression on Tony's face and the scars down his chest. A pen light wasn't ideal, but Steve's fingers had itched too much not to draw.  On paper this time, because he definitely wasn't posting this one online.  This one was for himself.  Steve might have a nearly photographic memory, but he didn't want to miss anything about this night. He was mostly finished, just adding some shading to Tony's chest, when the man in question started to stir.  Tony reached out to the other side of the bed as he rolled over, then shivered as he blinked wearily.  "Steve?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. "Over here," Steve said, setting aside the drawing for now. Tony relaxed, flopping back down.  "What are you doing over <I>there</I>?  It's cold." "You have blankets," Steve replied, though he moved back over to the bed. "Fancy expensive blankets that you made sure all of the Avengers had." "You're better than a blanket," Tony grumbled, then sighed as Steve slipped back under the covers.  Tony proceeded to claim Steve's space as his, impersonating an octopus as he sprawled over Steve's chest.  There was a sleepy pout in his voice as he spoke again.  "Don't go away this time." Steve chuckled, then kissed Tony's temple.  "Okay," he agreed, because it was probably bad form to leave before one's partner had woken up on their first night together, even if it was for a drawing. "Gonna put it on your Tumblr?" Tony asked, just as Steve had started to drift off again. "You know about that?" Steve asked in exasperation.  Why did no one tell him these things? "Recognized the style when someone shared a picture on Facebook.  The S.R. initials also gave it away," Tony muttered, this time the pout unmistakable.  "I had to find out through <I>Facebook</I>, Steve.  That's not cool." "Sorry," Steve said, rubbing Tony's shoulders.  "Didn't really think you guys would actually be that interested in my art." Tony snorted instead of replying, clinging to Steve a bit tighter.  "So is going up on Tumblr?" he finally asked with a small wriggle that Steve assumed was supposed to be sexy.  "I don't mind.  Everyone's seen it before." "Not that one, no.  That one's for me," Steve said, pulling the covers over them as Tony's lips brushed over his neck. "Hm," Tony said, and Steve had thought that would be the end of it.  But Tony surprised him again as he nosed closer.  "Then I have a request." "Oh, yeah?" Steve asked, amused at how Tony was obviously still half asleep but still managing to hold a conversation.  Never could keep the man quiet for long, though how much Tony would remember later was up to debate.  Steve wasn't the type to talk much to begin with, so he was okay with Tony filling the silences. "Hm," Tony said again, giving a quiet sigh that sent shivers down Steve's spine.  "Captain Americat and Iron Mouse in post-coital cuddles." "I'm <I>not</I> drawing a cat and a mouse that have just had sex, Tony," Steve said firmly.  "That's disturbing." Tony pushed up on Steve's chest, blinking down at him owlishly.  "You draw them kissing and holding hands all the time.  Even without requests." Steve blushed, because he really had no excuse for that.  His denial had been pretty strong for a while.  "That's different," Steve said, stubbornly pulling Tony back down. "Fine.  Normal cuddles then," Tony said, squirming slightly and reminding Steve that while he had pulled on a pair of sweatpants to draw, Tony was still naked. "I can do normal cuddles," Steve said, already going through a couple of poses mentally. "Good," Tony said, burrowing against Steve again.  "Now go back to sleep and don't leave this time." "Bossy," Steve said, running his hands through Tony's tousled hair. "You made me a <I>mouse</I>," Tony muttered, nipping lightly at Steve's collar in retaliation. Steve chuckled, bringing Tony's hand up to kiss his fingers.  "But a cute one.  Go back to sleep, Tony.  I'll draw it in the morning... <I>after</I> you wake up." * * * Iron Mouse was drawn in a normal suit, curled up against Captain Americat's belly. The picture gained more notes than Steve thought it would, in addition to several comments about the smug, possessive smirk the cat wore.   <I>'Cat got something better than a canary this time,'</I> one reblogger said with a heart emote. Tony hadn't remembered any of that conversation.  He had been, as Steve suspected, mostly still asleep.  Considering Tony's face when Steve told him that he'd been the one to request that particular drawing, Steve rather thought he had gotten better than a canary after all. ~FIN~