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Steve hates Team Game Night.
It’s a team building exercise that rose out of hell to torment him for however long he decides to stay on this Earth, and he hates it.
And unfortunately for him, he’s the one who came up with it, after a miserable number of Google searches as to what would constitute a good way to instil cohesion and comradery in a group of people (and aliens) who give diverse a new meaning, and put it out there for the team, so if he turns around and declares it’s a stupid idea, well, they (and he means Clint and Tony, mostly) will never let him hear the end of it.
Thankfully, board games have been officially banned, after the Great Monopoly Disaster of Three Months Ago, when Natasha landed on one of Tony’s hotels and forked up thousands of dollars to Tony’s shit-eating grin and nice doing business with you, Romanoff, jumped to her feet, started swearing loudly in Russian, capsized the enter table before storming out.
But as for the reason why Steve hates Team Game Night, well, it all starts with Never Have I Ever.
“Uh, I think drinking would be bad, for me, for a number of reasons,” Bruce points out when the idea’s first posed.
Tony clucks his tongue and hands him a cooper mug of something pale and transparent, with a spring of mint spilling over the rip and handful of ice.
“I made you a Moscow Mule,” he explains.
“Tony,” Bruce sighs. “I just said I can’t drink alcohol.”
“Relax, Brucie Bear.” Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s a mocktail.”
“Oh.” Bruce takes the glass, peering into curiously. “What’s in it?”
“Non-alcoholic ginger beer, lime, mint, water and lemonade,” Tony lists. “It was this or a Pomola.”
Clint blinks. “What the fuck is a Pomola?”
“Grenadine, lime juice, cola and ice.”
“That sounds nice, Tony,” Bruce offers, reluctantly.
“Well, you finish that one and I’ll make you one,” Tony says, cheerfully.
Bruce grimaces, but plasters on a smile nonetheless. “Sure thing, Tony.”
Steve bites back a grin and instead, holds out his arms for Tony to fall into his lap. Tony willingly goes, with a bright grin on his face, and leans back, when Steve wraps his arms around him.
“Ugh,” Clint makes a face. “Do you two have to be so disgustingly cute constantly?”
Tony raises an eyebrow, almost pitching forward out of Steve’s lap, despite his many protests. “You jealous, Barton?”
“No,” Clint insists. “You two are just way too much. Like you’re absolutely nauseating. I can feel the bile rising up.”
Tony sticks his tongue out and leans back, turning his head to the side. “Give me some sugar, sugar,” he demands.
Steve laughs and gives in, pressing his mouth to Tony’s gently before pulling away to Clint’s expression of revulsion.
“I hate you so hard, Stark,” he grumbles.
“Too bad, so sad.”
“I, for one, commend the Captain and the Man of Iron for being so affectionate with one another,” Thor declares.
“See, Thor gets it.” Tony blows the Asgardian a kiss. “Thanks, Point Break.”
“You are very welcome, Anthony.” Thor beams at him.
“Do you have to flirt with everyone?” Steve mutters to Tony, unable to ignore that hot little burn of jealousy.
Tony shrugs. “I’m a very romantic person,” he flutters his eyelashes at Steve. “But I only have eyes for you.”
Steve sighs and kisses Tony again, because there’s nothing else that he can do.
“Ow!” he says, sharply, and looks up, where Clint is whistling to himself, innocently.
A bottle cap lies on the carpet in front of him, the culprit of the crime.
Natasha takes her seat, primly folding her legs underneath her, beside Barton, and pinches the archer on the arm. “Enough bickering, you three. And enough public displays of affection, you two.” She looks at Tony and Steve, deliberately.
Steve scowls at her, but she simply grins at him like the cat who caught the canary.
“Now, let’s play,” she says, deftly, passing out glasses to each of them.
“Wait, did we decide on a game?” Bruce looks between all of them.
“Never Have I Ever,” Natasha says, loftily.
Tony and Clint both groan.
Natasha glares at them. “It’s my turn to choose,” she warns. “When it’s your turn, you can choose whatever you want.”
It quickly turns into a staring match to the death between Tony and Natasha until Steve intervenes.
“She’s got a point. When it’s your turn, you can choose whatever you want us to play,” Steve says, gently.
Tony huffs. “Never Have I Ever is a dumb game,” he complains, his voice lilting into a whine.
Steve rubs his back, comfortingly.
“I am afraid I do not know the rules to this Never Have I Ever game,” Thor says, miserable at the possibility. “Will someone indulge me?”
Frankly, Steve’s glad Thor brought it up, because he’s blissfully lost as well.
Tony blinks. “No worries, big guy. Uh, basically, everyone gets a drink,” he nods to where Natasha is already promptly pouring everyone a generous helping of vodka into a glass, as well as an extra Asgardian something-something so that Steve and Thor can have their share of the fun. “And we go around in a circle saying something that we’ve never done. If we’ve done what that person says they’ve never done, we drink.”
Thor nods. “I believe I understand.”
Tony gives him a sympathetic look. “You’ll pick it up along the way.” He looks at Natasha. “Tasha, why don’t you start, since this was your brilliant idea?”
Natasha narrows her eyes. “Bite me, Tony.”
“Sorry, I’m in a committed relationship now,” Tony retorts.
“Enough!” Steve intervenes. “God, you two are like the worst sort of siblings.”
Both Natasha and Tony’s faces screw up into exactly the same expression of disgust that Steve starts laughing quietly, choking when Tony gracefully slams his elbow into his gut.
“Just go, Tasha.” Clint rolls his eyes.
“Fine,” Natasha huffs. “Never have I ever left my home without underwear.” She eyes Tony in particular, a smirk curling.
Tony rolls his eyes. “Small fish, Romanoff. I thought you’d go for the good stuff.” He drinks generously from his vodka.
“I’m leading up to it, Tony. Don’t worry,” Natasha says, loftily, leaning back.
With Tony, everyone else but Natasha drinks, and she gives them disgusted looks.
“What is wrong with you people?” she demands.
Clint shrugs. “Sometimes, jeans can get confining.”
“You got that right,” Tony mutters.
Natasha looks at Steve. “And what’s your excuse?”
Steve makes a face. “I forgot to do laundry. It was the easiest solution.”
“Lady Natasha, I must admit there is a certain liberation to the absence of smallclothes,” Thor explains. “Perhaps this is one of those moments of ‘don’t know it until you try it’, if I understand the aphorism correctly, Anthony?” he looks at Tony, expectantly.
“Got it in one, big guy,” Tony comments, shifting in Steve’s lap. He leans back. “I taught him that.” He says, proudly.
“That’s great, honey, but your elbow’s, uh, kind of digging into my kidney there.” Steve winces.
Tony huffs. “You’re always complaining about something.”
“Oh, I’m sorry if the bruising to my organs is inconvenient for you,” Steve snipes.
“You’re a super soldier. You’ll heal,” Tony says, confidently.
Steve sighs. “Oh, Tony.” He pats his head.
Tony scowls.
“God, you two are exhausting,” Natasha mutters. “Bruce, it’s your turn.”
“Wait, why is it Bruce’s turn?” Clint baulks. “I’m sitting next to you too.”
“He didn’t piss me off earlier by arguing with Tony,” she points out.
“I’m sleeping with you!” Clint protests.
Natasha raises a delicate eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume that would and should matter to me.”
Clint shakes his head. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, throwing his hands up in the air.
Natasha turns to Bruce with a smile, who blushes and adjusts his glasses. “Your turn, Bruce,” she says, kindly.
Bruce clears his throat. “Oh, well, um, never have I ever driven… drunk?” he says, his voice lilting upwards to the end.
Tony groans and kicks his feet. “Boring, Bruce.”
“Well, I’m not good at this, okay!”
“Or you’re just pretending like you’re not the bon vivant we all know you are.” Tony wags his finger.
Bruce rolls his eyes. “Just drink, Tony.”
“How do you know that I’ve driven drunk?” Tony asks, affronted.
“Tony, honey,” Steve huffs. “We all know that you’ve driven drunk.”
“Rude. So rude.” Tony sniffs, haughtily. “See if I blow you later.”
Everyone but Steve and Tony groans.
“Tony, again, too much information.” Bruce glares at him.
“Yeah, no one wants to know about your freaky sex routines,” Clint comments.
“Well…” Natasha drawls.
Steve raises an eyebrow. “Oh, Widow?”
Natasha holds her hands up in the air, a picture of innocence. “All I’m saying is that a sex tape of the two of you would fetch a pretty penny.”
“No. No sex tape,” Tony declares, firmly. “At least none that JARVIS can’t oversee the making of, because these things have a way of getting out. And we really don’t need that kind of press.”
“Local superheroes take a licking, in more ways than one,” Clint mocks, miming a newspaper headline with his hands.
Steve makes a noise of disgust. “Barton, can you not, please?”
“What?” Clint says, innocently. “I was just… imagining what would be the consequences of such a tragedy.”
Tony snorts. “Yeah, tragedy. I’m sure, you pervert.”
Clint glares at him. “Look, contrary to popular belief, I’m not in a huge hurry to see you naked, Stark.”
“That’s good,” Steve interjects before Tony can open his mouth and deliver a smart-alecky comment. “Because I have no intention of letting anyone but myself see him naked, anyway.”
His voice is as needle-sharp as he can make it, while remembering he’s talking to friends, after all. Thankfully, Tony and him are the only ones who can attest to him tightening his grip on Tony’s hip just the slightest.
Call him old-fashioned, but he’s the jealous type.
Clint raises his hands in surrender. “Woah, touchy much.”
“Yeah,” he says, dryly. “I wonder why.”
Tony leans back into Steve’s hold and tips his head back, kissing Steve quickly on the curve of his jaw.
“Caveman,” he says, fondly.
Steve flushes, while the rest of the Avengers laugh, and rubs his cold nose in the little dip in Tony’s collarbone.
He doesn’t even know where all of that came from.
“Clint, sorry about that,” he says, quickly, his voice warm with apology.
Clint shrugs. “Don’t stress, Cap. I’m the jealous type myself.” He waggles his eyebrows at an unimpressed Natasha, who simply raises an eyebrow.
“Oh, are you?” she says, wryly. “Well, I suppose I’d be remiss if I didn’t warn you to stow your macho routine with me.”
“Tasha,” Clint whines, shamelessly.
“Shut up, Clint.” She doesn’t even spare him a second glance, making him pout.
Their relationship is very strange, Steve muses. He holds onto Tony tightly. Not like Tony and me. No, we’re like one of those Disney couples, he thinks, confidently.
“Thor, it’s your turn,” Natasha declares.
Thor jolts as if he hadn’t been expecting his name to be called. “Yes, of course, it is my attempt. Ah, now, if I have understood, the rules of this pastime correctly, never have I ever drunk the blood of a bilgesnipe.”
Accordingly, no one drinks.
“Well, surprise, surprise, no one’s ever drunk bilgesnipe blood,” Tony mutters.
Thor pouts. “Have I played incorrectly, Anthony?”
Tony softens. It’s actually kind of adorable how much of a soft spot Tony has for Thor, especially considering how they first met.
Of course, if Steve’s going to go down that route, him and Tony ending up in bed together after the brutal screaming match they got into within hours of meeting each other for the first time is as equally odd as Thor and Tony’s unexpected but no less enjoyable friendship.
“No, big guy, you definitely didn’t,” Tony reassures. “Just maybe, your next turn, come up with something more likely that one of us or a lot of us have done?”
Thor’s eyes dawn with realisation. “Oh, and because you have no bilgesnipe here on Earth, it would be impossible for you to drink. And the aim of this pursuit is to ensure that someone in our band, but for myself, drinks, correct?”
“That’s correct, Thor,” Natasha says, pleasantly.
“Very well. I will change my strategy come my next opportunity.”
Tony rubs his hands together. “Looks like it’s my turn,” he says, gleefully.
Natasha grimaces. “Joy,” she drawls.
“Oh, come on, Tasha. I’m just as likely to come for you as you are to come for me-oh, wait.”
Natasha scowls. “Watch it, Tony,” she warns.
“Or what, Widow?” Tony challenges, leaning forward.
“Uh, Tony, maybe not threaten the mean lady with knives,” Steve mutters, pulling his risk-prone boyfriend away.
Natasha looks affronted. “Mean lady with knives?”
“Well…” Clint hedges.
Natasha immediately turns her glower on him.
“Nothing,” Clint says, quickly, knowing what the consequence will be. “Tony, it’s your turn, right?”
“That it is, my good man.” Tony ponders for a moment. “Never have I ever… touched myself to a YouTube video.”
“Tony,” Steve groans, immediately, hanging his head.
“What?” Tony says, innocently.
Natasha leans forward, her face a picture of rage. “I told you that in strict confidence,” she hisses.
“Natasha!” Clint cries out, offended. “How could you?”
“Oh, shut up,” she says, disgusted, knocking back a healthy sip of her vodka. In response to all of the curious stares (both genuine and morbid), she sighs. “It was to a news broadcast of our last battle with Doom.”
“And who was it of specifically?” Tony prods, gleefully.
Natasha grits her teeth, staring at him like she’s imagining cutting him open and pulling out his kidneys, one by one. Just in case, Steve pulls Tony in tightly, shooting her a warning look.
“It was of Clint on the rooftops,” she admits, grudgingly.
Tony’s face breaks out in a grin, just as Clint starts whooping loudly, much to the embarrassment of all of them.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Clint shouts. He kisses Natasha noisily on the cheek. “Thanks, babe.”
Natasha grimaces and wipes at her cheek, shuffling until she’s sitting primly again, like her dignity hadn’t just been dragged out of her and displayed before the entire team.
“Okay, Steve, it’s your turn.”
Steve blinks. He hadn’t even thought about what he would say. “Never have I ever eaten food out of a trash can.”
“Oh, man,” Clint moans and drinks his vodka, unhappily.
He meets the unimpressed stares of the rest of the Avengers.
“What?” he demands, defensively. “I spent the whole night in a dumpster. Was I supposed to starve?”
Steve doesn’t want to linger on the image much longer. He shakes his head. “Let’s move on. It’s Clint’s turn.”
Clint taps his chin like he’s actually thinking about all the different possibilities he could come up with.
“Never have I ever… slept with twins.”
Tony drinks promptly and it takes everything in Steve to stop himself from turning green with jealousy.
“I slept with December’s Maxim cover models in 2008,” Tony explains to a Bruce who looks like both wants to know the story behind it and wants to run away forever. “They were very nice girls. Their dresses were dry-cleaned, and a car took them wherever they wanted to go. It was a great night for all of us.”
“It was a great night?” Steve can’t help himself.
It’s almost adorable how quickly Tony pales and grips at Steve’s wrist, turning his head.
“Nothing like having sex with you, babe,” he croons, kissing him on the cheek.
Steve curls against his back and kisses him on the curve of his shoulder blade. “Thanks, honey.” He clears his throat. “Looks like it’s your turn again, Natasha.”
Natasha smiles, sweetly. “Lovely. Never have I ever watched Keeping Up With the Kardashians.”
Clint drinks and chokes when he sees everyone staring at him.
“What? It’s good drama, okay. STOP JUDGING ME.” He wraps his arms around his legs and buries his face in his knees.
“Okay,” Bruce says, slowly. “Moving on. Never have I ever gone… to a nude beach.”
Clint, Tony and Thor drink.
“On Asgard, they too have coastlines for the purpose of liberating yourself of garments. It unyokes you from the shackles that these cloths keep you festering in.”
“You got that right,” Tony mutters and fist-bumps with Thor, delightedly.
“I believe it is my turn?” Thor looks at them for clarification. They all nod. “Alas, never have I ever been the fortunate recipient of a serenade in my honour.”
Tony is the only one who drinks.
Thankfully, Steve isn’t staring at him like he’s one of the creatures from Dr Seuss.
“What?” Tony says, bemused.
“Bullshit,” Clint exclaims. “Bullshit you’ve been serenaded.”
“Twice,” Tony corrects. “I’ve been serenaded twice.”
“Bullshit.”
“JARVIS?”
“Of course, sir.”
One after the other, Mani’s Bang Bang and Golden Earring’s Quiet Eyes both played over JARVIS’ speakers, while Tony sat there, smugly.
Steve clears his throat, ignoring the urge to give Tony a spectacularly brattish look. “So, you, uh, slept with both of them?”
“Mani? No, he’s just a friend. George? Yeah, I did.” Tony eyes him, carefully. “Is that a problem, Steve?”
“No,” Steve says, immediately, and he’s pretty sure everyone can tell how flat it comes out. “No,” he swallows hard. “Not at all.”
Bruce snorts. “Even I can lie better than that,” he mutters.
Steve glowers at him. “Not helping, Banner.”
“Steve,” Tony begins, his voice low and all disappointed.
Great, now he’s got the moral high ground.
Steve shakes his head. “It’s okay.” Fuck, he needs to get better at lying. “I’m fine.”
Tony looks dubious, but tightens his hand around Steve’s nonetheless, making sure to nestle himself up against all the parts of Steve’s bulk that welcome him, loosening that uncomfortable and burning knot in his chest.
He is not jealous.
No. Not at all.
Why would he be jealous? It’s not like he doesn’t know that Tony has a past, and he’s fine that Tony has a past, because that’s what it is: a past. He’s Tony’s present and future and potentially forever, if he has his way. Why should he be jealous of someone who had nothing better to do than to write a song about how Tony rejected them?
Nope, he is not jealous at all.
He clears his throat. “Tony, I think it’s your turn, right?”
“It is,” Tony says, cheerfully.
Natasha runs a finger over her glass. “I’d watch what you pick very carefully, Tony.”
Tony snorts. “Don’t worry, Romanoff. It’s not fun if I keep coming after you.” he smiles like the Devil himself. “I have to pick a new target.”
“Tony,” Steve groans in dread.
Tony pats his arm like a child. “Don’t worry, baby. You know I’ll take care of you,” he croons. He drags his teeth over his lower lip, a terrible glint in his eyes. “Never have I ever… required medical attention because of a foreign object stuck inside my body.”
“You bitch,” Clint declares and gulps down the rest of his vodka.
Natasha starts coughing until tears come out of her eyes. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to fucking know.”
“You bitch,” Clint hisses. “I told you that in confidence.”
Tony shrugs. “All’s fair in love and war and never have I ever.”
“You bitch.”
Steve runs a hand over his face. “As much as I can’t believe I’m asking this question, I feel like I might die of curiosity if I don’t know more.”
Tony grins. “Oh, believe me, you want to know more. Basically, Stephen Hawking over there decided to see if the vibration in his sonar arrows was enough to-”
Steve covers his mouth with a giant palm. “I take it back! I don’t want to know!” He shrieks when Tony licks his palm. “Tony, that’s just disgusting.”
Tony scoffs. “Prude much.”
Steve leans in. “You know exactly how much of a prude I’m not,” he murmurs, trailing fingertips down Tony’s spine until they dig into the small of his back, making Tony jerk in his lap.
“Okay, okay,” Tony mutters.
Natasha is busy glaring at Clint. “So, you decided to test the vibration in your arrows by shoving one up-”
“STOP TALKING.”
“PLEASE DON’T FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”
“Pretty much,” Tony interjects, gleefully.
“You bitch.” Clint glowers at him.
Bruce clears his throat. “A quick question. Why do you people keep telling him things?”
“Because they’re dumb,” Tony says, promptly.
Natasha and Clint glare at him.
“Oh, please, Romanoff. Like you don’t use shit that we tell you against us.”
“I never-”
“I told you I twisted my ankle during the last mission and that’s the first thing you went for when we were sparring the other day,” Tony says.
Steve eyes her, suspiciously. “You know what, you were the only person I told about that sugar cream pie I found in Queens and you were the only one whose whereabouts weren’t accounted for when it went missing.”
“I must admit, Lady Natasha, you were the only one who knew that my dearest Jane had been unable to attend lunch with me when the great Roomba came charging into my room last week,” Thor says, thoughtfully.
Natasha sniffs. “I don’t have to sit here and take this.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” Tony grabs her hand before she can storm of. “Sit down, Romanoff.”
Natasha scowls. “Not if you’re going to just… hurl abuse at me.”
Tony rolls his eyes. “No one believes that doe-eyed, woe is me persona, Romanoff. Give it up.”
Natasha stares him down, but Tony doesn’t give in. Finally, she huffs.
“Fine,” she grumbles. “Who needs a refill?”
Thor, Tony and Clint hand her their glasses and she fills it to the brim.
“Steve, honey, you’re next.” Tony taps him on the thigh.
“Oh.” Steve blinks. “Right. Okay.”
“It’s okay, honey, take your time,” Tony says, sweetly.
“Oh.” Steve beams down at his boyfriend. “Thank you, Tony. You’re so sweet.”
“Whipped,” Clint coughs.
“Shut up.” Natasha swats him on the arm. “It’s cute.”
Clint gives her a disgusted look. “If I said that kind of shit to you, you’d threaten to pull out my kidneys.”
“That’s because you’re not cute like they are,” Natasha retorts. “Steve, have you come up with something?”
Steve clears his throat. “Yes-yes, I have. Never have I ever ran a red light.”
Tony and Natasha drink, both shrugging when they meet each other’s eyes.
“We’re both angry drivers,” Natasha explains.
Tony nods. “That’s why she’s the best in a car chase. She starts swearing in Russian at people who are too slow, and they just submit. It’s beautiful.”
Natasha beams at him. “And he’s always good at fucking up their cars if they’re being too annoying.”
Bruce leans in. “Do you understand their friendship?” he asks, quietly.
Steve shakes his head, miserably. “Not at all.”
Clint eyes Tony, suspiciously. “Isn’t it strange that you’ve drunk every time?”
Tony shrugs. “What can I say, I’ve led a very interesting life.”
It soon devolves into a game of trying to get Tony to admit to have never done something when it isn’t his turn.
“Never have I ever… had an orgy in Bangkok?” Natasha tries.
Tony drinks.
“Never have I ever repurposed a common household item as a sex toy.”
Tony drinks.
“Hairbrush,” he explains.
“Never have I ever called someone the wrong name while hooking up.”
Tony drinks.
“Never have I ever received a noise complaint immediately after sex.”
Tony drinks.
“Never have I ever created a social media account for the express purposes of stalking someone.”
Tony drinks.
“Never have I ever ridden a giant Earth animal.”
Tony drinks.
“Never have I ever bought a gift from a discount store and put it in a different package to make it look expensive.”
Tony drinks.
“Never have I ever done it on a kitchen counter.”
This time, Steve and Tony both drink.
“I didn’t need to know that,” Bruce wheezes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Natasha sighs and leans back. “Okay, fine, Tony, it’s your turn.”
“Never have I ever…” Tony looks thoughtful.
Steve has finally realised that there isn’t much that Tony hasn’t done, and can fully appreciate how hard it must be to come up with something for this game.
Of course, no judgment.
And despite what Clint says, there is absolutely no green in his cheeks.
“Oh, flashed a security guard.”
Tony looks at all of them, expectantly.
Clint drinks, shamelessly.
Bruce looks down at his lap. “Oh, God, I don’t want to know.”
Natasha swirls her glass of vodka. “For any reason?” she clarifies.
Tony raises his glass. “Now you have to tell us the story.”
Natasha shrugs. “It’s not that impressive. I was running away from a warehouse I was stealing from – you know how stealing from arms dealers goes – and I ran into a security guard. To get the hell out of dodge, I may have pulled down my shirt to flash him a peek of the twins.” She gestures to her breasts and sighs. “It was all for a good cause.”
“Amen, sister.” Tony high-fives Natasha.
“Don’t tell me,” Clint says, sarcastically. “You’ve flashed someone too.”
“A police officer,” Tony explains. “To get out of a speeding ticket.”
Steve drops his hands to the floor and clenches down, clawing into the carpet and leaving gouges behind.
“Your dick or something else?” Clint asks, curiously.
“Why do you even want to know?” Bruce moans.
“My dick,” Tony replies, unashamed. “It did the trick. Hey, that rhymes. Steve, honey, it’s your turn again.”
It takes Steve a moment to stop grinding his teeth. “Oh, yeah. Uh, never have I ever… pretended not to be home when someone rang my doorbell.”
Like everyone should’ve guessed, Tony drinks.
“That’s it!” Clint jumps to his feet. “I’m not playing this game anymore,” he declares and points at Tony violently. “He’s done everything. It’s not fun if he’s done everything. I’m done.”
He storms out of the room.
Tony raises his hand. “Petition to disqualify Barton from the next game?”
“I heard that, Stark! And fuck you.”
It’s a terrible idea, considering the clusterfuck that was Never Have I Ever, but next Team Game Night, someone (it may have been Natasha again – Steve’s beginning to think they’ve been underestimating her sadistic streak) puts forward Truth or Dare as a game when Thor struggles to come up with anything.
“I’m going first,” Natasha declares and only Tony’s brave enough to argue with her, but Steve covers his mouth quickly enough. She flutters her dark eyelashes at Bruce. “Bruce, truth or dare.”
Bruce sighs. “In order to play safe, I’m going to go with truth.”
Natasha’s eyes glint wickedly. “How big does the Hulk’s cock get when you go green?”
Steve starts choking. Tony takes pity on him and starts thumping him on the back.
Bruce is bright red. “Do I really have to answer that question?”
Tony gives him a sympathetic look. “It’s the rules, Brucie Bear. Sorry.”
Bruce sighs. “Fine. Flaccid or erect.”
Natasha’s lips twitch. “Both.”
“Flaccid, he’s around ten inches, which makes his erection around twenty inches.”
Steve blanches. He doesn’t really want to think about what that means.
“Holy fucking hell,” Tony mutters, shaking his head. “I seriously underestimated the measurements for the vibrator line.”
“Okay, let’s move on,” Bruce says, quickly. “Tony, it’s your turn.”
“Great! Uh, Barton, truth or dare.”
“Dare, motherfucker,” Clint declares, throwing out his arms.
Tony rolls his eyes. “Fine, I dare you to… call Fury and dirty talk to him.”
Clint pales. “Fuck, Stark, are you trying to get me fired?”
Tony shrugs. “I’ll pay your salary if he fires you.”
Clint shakes his head. “But you can’t replace my balls when Nick sneaks in and cuts them off,” he mutters under his breath.
Nonetheless, he fishes out his mobile phone and dials Fury’s number, leaving a filthy voicemail about how he wants the director to stuff my arse with his big cock and make me scream your name, while Natasha and Tony shake with supressed laughter, practically rolling around on the floor.
“Okay, fine, Steve. You go,” Clint says, his voice clipped, as he continues glowering at Tony.
“Huh, I guess I’ll go with Thor then. Truth or dare, pal.”
Thor frowns, mulling the choice over. “I suppose I shall go with truth, Captain.”
Steve’s had a morbid question on the tip of his tongue ever since he first got a good look at Thor.
“Are you hairy everywhere?” he blurts out.
Tony and Natasha start rolling around on the floor all over again.
Thor blinks, a little surprise and a little shy. “Yes, I fear it is somewhat of a House of Odin curse,” he says, apologetically. “It… requires a great deal of maintenance to even look presentable every day.”
“All over?” Steve can’t help but ask.
Thor flushes. “Yes. All over. But my beloved Jane seems to be fond of it, so I suppose not all is such a curse.”
Steve nods, a little unsteadily. “Fair enough.” He turns to Tony. “I think I may have asked too much.”
Tony pats his hand.
He’s always so sweet with him.
“Okay, Clint, your turn.”
“Tony,” Clint says, immediately, making the aforementioned person roll his eyes. “Truth or dare.”
“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction, so, truth,” Tony sniffs, haughtily.
Clint rubs his hands together. “Okay, Tony,” he drawls. “I’ve been curious about this for a while-”
“Wow, Barton, didn’t realise you thought about me so much.” Tony flutters his eyelashes.
“Shut up.” Clint rolls his eyes. “Who did you lose your virginity to?”
Tony grimaces. “Great.”
Steve places a hand on Tony’s thigh and squeezes. “Uh, Clint, maybe we should…”
But even he doesn’t know the answer, so he has to admit, he’s a little curious himself.
“No, no, it’s okay.” Tony pats him on the hand. “I lost my virginity to Tiberius Stone.”
You’re joking.
Steve remembers Tiberius Stone very well, with his dark blonde hair, slight stubble and tall, lean frame, who called Tony Marc Anthony with a lazy, heated little smile that spelled more than friendship, at least to Steve.
When Steve gets a glance at Tony, there’s a strange tightness to his features, around his mouth and eyes, as if this is a topic he doesn’t even like to touch with a ten-foot pole.
Steve feels exactly the same way.
He wraps an arm around Tony’s shoulder and Tony sends him a grateful smile, leaning into his touch.
Clint blinks. “Wait, the DreamVision guy? That Tiberius Stone?” he asks, incredulously.
Tony scowls. “Yes, Clint, the DreamVision guy, that Tiberius Stone,” he says, tersely.
“Huh,” Clint exhales. “I knew you guys were friends, but I didn’t realise you were friends with benefits,” he mutters.
Tony rolls his eyes. “We weren’t friends with benefits,” he explains. “We were in an actual relationship.”
Clint leans forward. “So, what happened?”
Tony shrugs. “I realised he was a functional sociopath who was obsessed with me, so I broke up with him. Simple.”
It isn’t that simple; even Steve, with his limited espionage experience, can tell, but none of them think it’s wise to push Tony on the issue.
“Now,” Tony smiles, a little sharp. “Who’s next? I think it’s Thor, right?”
Thor nods. “Ah, Captain Rogers, I believe you are yet to be asked. Truth or dare?”
Steve eyes Tony, uncertainly. “I think truth is the safest bet for me.”
Thor beams. “Very well. Of all the people in this room, with whom would you want to trade lives?”
Steve blinks. “Oh, uh, heavy.” He frowns. “I think… I think I would pick Clint.”
Clint preens. “Because I’m so awesome?”
Steve snorts. “No, not so much.”
“Cap,” Clint holds a hand to his heart, mock-hurt. “How could you?”
Natasha sighs. “As much as I hate to ask, why would you want to trade lives with Clint?”
Steve shrugs. “I like how he’s content with life, how he enjoys it to the fullest. All of us, I think, we have our own demons, and I’m sure Clint has his own, but he doesn’t let them pick holes in his existence. I think I would like that.”
Bruce stares at Steve. “Wow, Steve, that’s really beautiful,” he says, softly.
Steve blushes. “Thank you.”
“Yeah,” Tony murmurs, running a hand over Steve’s hair. “It really was.”
Steve leans in, nudging Tony with a shy smile.
Clint clears his throat, a strange flush to his neck. “Okay, emotions, honestly, make a little uncomfortable, so if we could move this along… Bruce, it’s your turn, right?”
“Oh, uh, okay, Natasha, I suppose. Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Natasha says, confidently.
Bruce pales, as if he’d never expected she’d say dare. He looks at Tony, helplessly, who clucks his tongue and leans forward, muttering something quickly in his ear.
“Excuse you, collusion is not allowed,” Clint says, hotly.
“No, no,” Natasha interjects, breezily. “I’m okay with this. Go on.”
Tony rolls his eyes and finishes whispering his idea to Bruce, who clears his throat.
“Okay, Natasha, I dare you to peel a banana using only your feet and toes in sixty seconds.”
Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Interesting.” She saunters into the kitchen, coming back to the ground with a banana in one hand. “Ready?”
“JARVIS, you timing her?”
“I am, sir.”
“Okay, ready, set, go!”
Natasha places the banana between her feet and toes, and goes. Steve can’t tear his eyes away; it isn’t the prettiest sight, but somehow Natasha makes it look seamless, almost graceful.
At fifty-four seconds, Natasha declares her triumph with a shout, jumping to her feet and throwing her hands up in the air.
“Who’s the boss? I’m the boss. Who’s the boss. I’m the fucking boss!”
Tony rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, settle down, settle down.”
Natasha sighs and tosses her hair, sitting back down on the ground, primly. “Looks like I’m next, right? Tony,” she barks.
Tony jumps. “What?” he says, defensively.
“Truth or dare,” she says, sweetly.
“Dare,” Tony huffs.
Natasha grins, fleetingly.
Oh, no.
“I dare you to… give Thor a lap dance.”
Tony groans, hanging her head.
Fuck no.
“Can I veto this?” Steve interjects, hotly.
“Nope,” Natasha dismisses. “Only the darer and the dared can veto. What’s it gonna be, Tony?”
Tony eyes Steve, hesitantly, chewing on his lower lip. “Steve?” he asks, hesitantly.
Steve gives him a grimace-like smile. “If you’re okay with it, I’m okay with it, honey.”
He doesn’t want to be the stuffy old man that controls Tony because he can’t handle Tony’s attacks at his sensibilities.
Tony nods, warily, surprise flickering across his expression, before he turns to Thor.
“How about you, Thor? You okay with this?”
Thor shrugs. “I would not be inconvenienced by such a thing, Anthony.” He grins. “We both know where we stand with our romantic partners. Our love for them cannot be hindered.”
Tony shrugs. “I feel like that’s a yes,” he says, lamely, and sighs. “Okay, Tasha, you got a song for me?”
Natasha thinks to herself for a moment before grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Beyoncé’s Naughty Girl.”
Tony mutters something unfavourable under his breath, but nonetheless slips to his feet. “J, you heard her. Hit it.”
Steve’s breath catches in his lungs when Tony sinks down onto Thor’s lap, as the song begins to play over the speakers, grinding down slowly, with his hands propped on Thor’s wide shoulders. Tony moves his body up and down and side to side against Thor in a way that Steve’s only seen in bed.
He digs his hands into the carpet.
Tony undulates his hips in a figure-eight over Thor’s lap, just leaving an inch of space between their bodies, a mixture of smug satisfaction at Thor’s lazy grin and joy lighting up his face. He moves his hands all over his body, before sliding them into his hair, and arching backwards, until his arm touches the ground, canting his hip forwards like he’s riding one of those mechanical bulls in slow-motion.
Steve grits his teeth, grinding until he hears a cracking sound.
When Tony runs his hands up Thor’s thighs, Steve’s control snaps like a twig and he practically lunges to his feet.
“Okay, we’re done here,” he says, his voice clipped, as he grabs Tony by the waist, yanking him off Thor’s lap and throwing him over his shoulders. “Time to go, Tony. Say goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Tony says, dryly, waving to the rest of the team. He sighs, somehow managing to manoeuvre himself so that Steve’s carrying him in his arms instead. “Come on, then; take me to bed, monkey man,” he sighs.
“You’re damn right I’m the monkey man,” Steve mutters, nodding to himself. “I’m your monkey man.”
“Yes, Steve,” Tony rolls his eyes and kisses him on the cheek. “You’re my monkey man.”
Before they make it to the elevator, he hears Clint speak in the common room.
“Was anyone else deeply turned on by Tony’s lap dance?”
“I heard that, Barton!” Steve calls out.
Clint shrieks. “Shit, someone help me! He’s gonna kill me in the sparring ring tomorrow! Tasha, please, you have to save me!”
“I’m sorry?” Natasha says, innocently. “I wasn’t listening. What’s going on?”