stevetony: post-it war (in honour of fluffy friday)
It started like this. One day, Tony was elbow deep in his Bugatti, when Captain America strode in, fully geared with his cowl pulled back and his pretty face pinched, but what attracted Tony’s attention despite the six foot two American Beefcake was the way he was waving his Starkphone at its inventor’s face.
“Do you not check your phone? I texted you so many times to come up for debriefing.”
Tony pulled his face back, squinting at the man. “Why me?” Because as far as Tony was concerned, debriefing was for those who went on the mission and Tony had been moping around in the workshop because Captain fucking America hadn’t needed Iron “You’re too flashy for stealth” Man for the latest one.
“I called you twenty times. Twenty times! You invented the phone, Stark!”
Tony opened his mouth to protest, but Steve bulldozed past him. “Is it too hard to check your phone?”
There were so many things Tony wanted to argue about. So many, oh so awful wrong things, but. Since Steve was so adamant about lecturing him on the importance of checking the phone, Tony rounded on him and sneered, “Ever heard of post-it, Cap? Bright, obnoxious little papers? Sometimes, they work better because not everyone likes to hang onto their phone 24/7.”
Steve bristled. Tony preened. Then Steve, with his Captain America strut, marched towards one of Tony’s many working desks, fiddled with something for ten seconds and returned with that same pinched expression on his face, but now, it’s accompanied by a smug smirk.
The more Steve closed in, the more Tony tensed because the man didn’t seem to be slowing down and Tony was above running for his life even in the freak possibility of getting slammed to death by a super soldier. Then, something happened. Steve stopped, right before their chests collided and he slapped Tony in the forehead.
Again. So many wrong things – Just – “Oh my god,” Tony exclaimed, peeling off a neon green post-it stuck on his forehead. It read; Come to debriefing, asshole, and Tony stared until his eyes started watering before the shock wore out and he realised that Steve had left before Tony could yell at him a good comeback. Not that he could think of any at the moment…
The second post-it appeared in courtesy of Tony who stopped by the kitchen at fuck-o’clock on day and stared at the stove for too long his brain started pulling out memories from the times when he made it to breakfast; brightly lit kitchen with Natasha steeping a cup of tea, Bruce already sipping on his, Clint perched on the refrigerator stealing pancakes Steve’s cooking at the stove and –
It was absolutely unnecessary. But Tony thrived from doing dumb shits from time to time, so he made a journey to and back from the workshop all because he wanted to stick a post it on the stove so in a few hours, when Steve set to cook his daily pancake pile, he’d find a blue post it with a clumsy sketch of him catching on fire.
The third one was on Tony’s nose when he startled awake in the workshop. It said one word; eat, and there was a plate of saran wrapped sandwich by his elbow. Tony stuck a delish in neon pink when his hand ‘accidentally’ brushed against Steve’s rear during his coffee break venture to the communal area.
They didn’t do it very often, but each one got its reply without a miss. Didn’t matter who start it, if it was a mockery or a genuine message, every single one received its reply; sometimes plain, sometimes cheeky, sometimes dry and still angry. It became a Steve and Tony thing. What started as a curious reaction, evolved into a teasing one from the team.
When a smiley face started showing up from Steve’s, Tony went mad with drawing emoticons on his. At one point, even when they were verbally communicating; Steve chiding Tony about something while curled up on his spot in the workshop with his sketchbook and Tony welding while bantering word for word with Steve, Tony paused to scribble something completely off topic on a post it and wheeled to where Steve was to stick it on the back of his sketchbook.
Steve barely paused in his verbal argument. The hour passed and as Steve closed his book and stood up, stretching the kinks out of his body, Tony looked away from the schematic and at him. Steve walked towards him, picked up one of the many obnoxious colour post-its scattered around on Tony’s work table – orange -, scribbled something large and stuck it on Tony’s cheek before pressing a kiss over it.
It read, YES to Tony’s; go out with me.
After that, they started to be more… cheesy, sometimes sappy, a little bit snarky and a whole lot of suggestive and wildly raunchy.
“Jesus Christ.” Clint exhaled on a rush once. When he had come across the note Tony had meant for Steve. In Clint’s defence, it was in the communal area! In Tony’s defence, I thought you were visiting Laura and your tiny agents! When Steve blushed red; partly from embarrassment and partly from exasperation, Tony added weakly, “It was supposed to be our thing.”
If that didn’t teach the rest of the Avengers to turn blind against every post it they come across, then their suffering was entirely by choice.
amandla
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