Work Text:
Bruce's first time happens when he's twenty-two. Call him a late bloomer.
It's the last day of classes for his Biology degree and science majors have a false reputation of being introverted party-haters. The truth was that they let loose only when it really mattered--like when the Hadron collider was built or to mourn the loss of Pluto's planetary status or to celebrate their graduation. A good majority of them were moving on to start working towards their Masters and their PhDs, but for now, they wanted to let off some steam.
Bruce was personable enough and got along with most of his classmates. He definitely earned the reputation of helping almost all of them with some homework assignment or another--he was an all-around good guy. This was one of the first parties he's actually shown up to; it wasn't that he'd never been invited. He was just too busy studying. Tonight was special. He probably wouldn't see some of these classmates ever again.
So he's sitting on a couch in the dining room of this house party, chatting with some of his closer friends about nuclear radiation and long-term effects after earthquakes (or something like that) when one of those classmates, one that he'd never see again, decided to make the night a bit more special. Her name was Tracey--she'd been lab partners with Bruce once, and they've worked on half a dozen group assignments together. She always thought he should laugh more and loved his smile (whenever he pulled one off).
Tracey walks across the room to step in front of Bruce, his conversation petering off to look up at her with curious eyes. She grasped his hand and pulled him to his feet, dipping back the rest of her beer (the only one she had all night) for some liquid courage, and pulled him upstairs.
Bruce figures out what was happening before they finish climbing the stairs but he still had to ask--even when they found an empty room and locked the door, even when they both lost their shirts and now knew how she tasted.
He swallows nervously. "So... we're doing this?"
Tracey smirks. "Yep."
"... sex."
Now she giggles. "Yes, Bruce. Sex."
"Are you sure?"
Trace tugs on his pant buckle and starts to pull the leather from its hook. "Bruce, I'm going to UCLA tomorrow. You're going off to Culver."
"U-Uh-huh."
"I'm not asking for a long-distance thing because we both know it won't work." She yanks the last of the belt out and it fell to the floor before she ran her hands up his stomach. The soft sensation of her fingernails makes Bruce shiver. "I'm just saying that we're both hard-working folk who deserve some fun." She steps close enough for her skin to press against his. "And I think we'd have fun."
But Tracey feels him take a shaky breath and looked up at his nervous smile, so she asks, "Do you want to do this?"
Bruce swallows with great difficulty. "Yeah. I think... yes."
Tracy smiles and the rest of the clothes come off--and overall, Bruce will say he's happy with the experience. It was fun and they even had a laugh when they accidentally knocked a lamp over. Laughter makes everything better, he'd say, and from that day on he didn't trust anyone who couldn't laugh during sex.
---------
Clint's first time happens when he's seventeen.
It happens was in the back of a truck belonging to one of the circus carnie's and it was with the Great Manzini's magic assistant. Her name was Cora and she was four years older than Clint. At first she would humour the kid whenever he flirted with her. He was always so cocky and over-confident and it made her laugh because he really, really had no idea what the hell he was talking about most of the time but wanted to be impressive, nonetheless.
It finally worked on her though, when they were watching a show one night, after she'd been working for the circus for five months, and he stood beside her in the darkness of the tent and they stared out at the show and he kept curling his fingers through hers. It was the damn finger, already building a callous from pulling the bow, running over her skin so delicately, treating her like she might break, up and down and dipping between her fingers.
No one she'd been with had ever touched her like that.
Clint's still inside her and reaching into the glove box for a cigarette when she finds out he's a virgin.
Cora smacks his bare ass and tries not to laugh. "There is no way you're a virgin, Barton."
Clint lit the cigarette as he side-eyed her. "Well, I'm not anymore." He wiggled his hips for good measure before giving her the biggest shit-eating grin.
Cora gaped, completely flabbergasted and thrown off her game. Cora liked to say she had good taste in men--not Ivy League graduates, but men who knew what they were doing in life and were confident doing it. Maybe that's what did her in--she realized that's exactly what Clint is. Clint, who is still laying on her, a pleasant warm weight, staring down with a grin but his eyes were certain.
It takes her a few seconds to figure out what to say before she pulls the cig from his mouth and pulls him down by his neck to lick into his mouth. "Any woman will be lucky to have you, Clint. Too bad you're full of shit half the time."
"Hey, it worked on you, didn't it?"
She smacks him and he laughs, tickles her until she laughs, and uses his fingers for something better. She sees stars.
-------
Natasha was fourteen for her first time and she doesn't want to talk about it.
Her fourth time was when she was sixteen, with a Russian ballerina named Peter who made her sore for days and even until this day, she calls it the most beautiful night she's ever had. And she doesn't say that just because it was the first time it was her own decision. She says it because Peter was gentle and reverent and loved every bit of her, and refused to let her get out of bed if she needed anything. If she tried to get up to get some water, he got it for her. If she was hungry, he was the one to rush from the room to get her some food. It made her feel... appreciated. Like he was so happy she was there. And he came back with toast and eggs and she realized no one has ever cooked her breakfast before.
She never saw a man twice who wouldn't get her breakfast in the morning. And from day one, Clint has always fried up bacon and eggs for her before she's awake.
------
Darcy's nineteen years old and working a part time job as a file clerk in this big law office because 'office work looks good on your resume.' It's not like she's the intern--she's paid and everything, but she doesn't do much. She's got a crush on the guy in accounting--Mark. He's tall, his hair is always a sexy mess, and the crush started when she saw the edge of a tattoo peaking above his collar. She wanted so badly to pull that collar down and lick his neck.
But she's an adult so she's going to have behave like one, no matter how ridic her libido is.
And then, one day, someone calls to say there's a guy with a gun in the next building over.
For the record, it was total baloney, and it came from a bunch of jackass kids making crank calls during spring break. The building next door is where all the standardized tests are created for the state schools, so it shouldn't be a surprise, really. Dumbass kids. (They were totally tracked down and fined, by the way.)
Still though, she's in the bathroom washing ink stains from her hands when the barely-used office intercom bursts to life and says 'SHELTER IN PLACE.'
Darcy glares at it. "What?"
Someone comes into the bathroom door and locks the deadbolt behind him and shuts off the lights, which is what you're supposed to do, right? But Darcy's still got soap suds all over her. "Hey!"
They flick the lights back on and she realizes it's Tattoo Guy--Mark, as it turns out. She cleans her hands off quickly and tosses her paper towels away. "Do we have to shut the lights off?"
Mark looks a little confused. "Aren't you supposed to do that?"
Once she dries off he turns the lights off, and by the glow of her cell phone they sit on the couch pushed against the far wall. They whisper and talk and google whatever's happening next door.
An hour goes by before the threat is lifted. The managers start to roam the building looking for their employees to make sure they're alright and get back to work. A few pause before the ladies room door because there are some ungodly noises coming from it. The managers call the cops, who burst in with their guns drawn.
Darcy's sitting on the edge of the sink, skirt pushed up to her hips while Mark pounds into her and grips her hair and whispers dirty things in her ear that make her quiver. Unfortunately the men with guns kind of killed the mood and she didn't come.
Mark fixed that problem that very night. And she didn't have that problem again for another five glorious months.
------
Tony's first time was with Brooke Shields at a Playboy party. 'Nuff said.
-----
For Pepper, it happened the same night that she decided to pursue a business degree. That was prom night.
Unfortunately, her prom night was a complete bust up until that point. Prom was held at one of the bigger hotels in town, which meant that her friends disappeared upstairs with their boyfriends as soon as they could. She knew what they were doing. She didn't feel the slightest bit of jealousy, either. She didn't have someone to lose her virginity to, so why push it with someone?
That being said... exceptions have to be made.
In the meantime, Pepper had found the hotel bar and was having a frank discussion with the bartender (who was a bit freaked out by the frank discussion).
"So what? I'm a virgin," Pepper said as she chomped on some bar nuts. "Virginia the virgin. No one calls me Virginia, though--just Pepper."
The bartender blinked at her.
"There's no rush, though," Pepper continued like nothing was awkward at all. "Whatever happens, happens."
"Oh, hello."
Pepper and the bartender looked over. A man in a purple suit jacket and loud scarf was looking Pepper over. "I'd like to make love to you."
Pepper frowned but the bartender, clearly star-struck, leaned over and whispered, "That's Mick Jagger."
---88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888---
"What?!"
"Are you kidding me, Potts?!"
"That's not true, there's no freaking way--"
Pepper tried to keep her smug smirk to herself and failed, so she held her hands up to feign innocence. "He was in town on tour and staid at the hotel."
For once, all of the Avengers were in the Tower at the same time--no one was away on mission, no one had any charity events to attend. It lead to group dinner which lead to some group drinking which lead to some group truth-or-dare which, finally, lead to everyone revealing the first time they had sex. And a winner had to be declared.
Clint was shaking his head--he wasn't just sad, he looked ashamed with his past self for not performing well enough to win. "I can't believe you, Potts."
Pepper reached for her empty wine glass. "Look it up, Barton: Portland, Oregon in May, 1994." She smiled apologetically (but she wasn't that sorry).
Darcy was gaping, staring at her new hero in awe, before her eyes fell on the quietest person in the room. She bit her lips together before announcing, "I think you broke Tony."
Indeed, the billionaire was sitting stiffly and his eyes were wide, looking into the distance. Pepper shook his arm to get him out of his trance, but obviously, hearing his girlfriend had lost her virginity to one of his teenage heroes... well, it rattles a guy, you know? Tony had posters of the Rolling Stones in his first garage/workshop. And the love of his life... she...
Obviously, Pepper was the winner. It wasn't officially announced but people had begun to pick up their glasses and gather their things, preparing to retreat to their rooms. Someone, obviously curious, asked Thor what his first time was, and he started explaining the great tradition on Asgard of when a boy becomes a man, he goes through a ceremony that apparently involves a lot of fanfare and to be quite frank, it sounded like women competed in a Hunger-Games-esque competition to bed the prince (except there was no actual killing, just some elbowing) and people started getting freaked out and Jane really didn't want to listen any longer. She was the first to announce suddenly, cutting her boyfriend off, "We're off to bed g'night" and she dragged a grinning Thor away.
Folks began to couple-up, respectively, and made their way to bed. A few packed into the elevator; someone cracked a joke and the doors closed on the responsive laughter.
"Hey, Rogers!"
Steve thought he was by himself, and was okay with that. He's the only occupant on this floor and needed to unwind with some TV after everyone left--except he forgot how to count. Someone was left behind.
Darcy, who was used to cleaning up after scientists already, had started loading the dishwasher in the kitchen with all the glasses and plates from the evening's festivities. Steve turned around and saw her standing there, smirking at him. "You never said what happened to you?"
Damn it. This is why he was okay with being alone.
His hesitation wasn't lost on Darcy and she raised her eyebrows at him, but he was quicker to answer before she could comment. "It... I was fifteen. It was out back behind a school dance, in the back of Bucky's parent's car." His gaze dropped but his smile was soft. "She kept her bra on. I cried. ... it was nice."
Darcy couldn't help smiling sweetly. If there was an All-American-Apple-Pie way to lose it, Steve had it. "Really?"
And then his smile faltered and he grimaced.
Darcy gaped. "Did you just lie to me?"
Steve laughed and looked away. "No, it's not--"
"Hey."
When Steve pulled his hands from his eyes, he found Darcy making her way from the kitchen over to him. She had a very determined look behind those glasses. Once she was in reach, she poked his chest. "Don't be ashamed of that. And don't let anyone tell you that being an 'old virgin' makes you some kind of unicorn or special snowflake, either. You do what you want to do when you're ready for it." She pulled her hands back and placed them on her hips. "And fuck everyone else and their opinions."
Steve's eyes raked over her from head to toe. Darcy didn't falter.
Slowly, he reached out and held the collar of her flannel shirt. Darcy's eyes widened when his fingers ran down the fabric, close to the buttons.
"Fuck everyone else, hm?" Steve muttered.
Darcy realized the mistake in her words, but it was inevitable. She was doomed. They'd been sneaking around for over a month now--and to be honest, being sneaky helped Darcy not push Steve too far, since he wanted to take it slow--and have made it (heavily) in a few supply closets. It was leading to this. She may have been hoping it would lead to this when she started asking people about their first times.
But something in his touch and stance didn't fit. He was confident--his grin was dirty and his eyes were already undressing her. For the second time, Darcy gaped at him. She leaned back a bit and Steve's hands stilled.
"Wait--so," she swallowed hard. "Are you or aren't you?" Because he never really said.
To her surprise, he slid his hands past her backside and picked her up and against him. "You're just going to have to find out, now, aren't you?"
Darcy grinned with delight before he kissed her, kicked the door of the dishwasher closed and carried her down the hallway to his room. It was all hands and heat until Steve got so excited about taking her shirt off, he threw it aside right into his bedroom lamp and Darcy started laughing.
That was it. That was the moment that Steve knew he loved her.