Fangasm

Steve had made himself comfortable in battered old armchair he’d had brought to Tony’s place, despite how horribly it clashed with the sleek modern furniture in the rest of the house. That, after all, had been Pepper’s doing, and Tony spent too much time in his workshop to pay much mind to the quaint little bits of nostalgia Steve had tracked in with him when he moved in.

Tony set down a cup of coffee on the table beside Steve and sat in his own recliner. “All settled in yet?” he asked. “Jarvis been taking care of you?”

“Oh, I don’t like to bother him,” Steve muttered absently, turning a page in the notebook he had become utterly engrossed in.

Tony rolled his eyes. “He’s a robot, Steve, that’s what he was programmed for.” He leaned forward and squinted at the notebook. “What are you so into over there, anyway?”

“I was bored, so I found something in your study to read.” Steve glanced up, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not really.” Tony settled back and took a sip of his coffee. “Tech notes don’t seem like your kind of thing, though. You want a real book? I can get you something about war heroes. Or cowboys, do you like cowboys? You seem like the kind of guy who’d like cowboys.”

“You sell yourself short, Tony, this is really good.” Steve grinned and cleared his throat. “‘Tony stared into Cap’s clear, azure eyes and sighed, contented…’”

Sadly, Steve did not have opportunity to read Tony’s voice in a charming falsetto, because Tony had leaped out of his chair and began to attempt wrestling the notebook out of Steve’s hands. Steve quickly stood up and held the book above his head.

“You promised you wouldn’t do that!” Tony whined, making a most valiant effort to jump high enough to grab the notebook.

“I haven’t finished reading it yet!” Steve said. “There’s still four more books to go! Really, Tony, that’s pretty impressive for a… what, fifteen-year-old?”

“Those are private,” Tony said, planting his hands on his hips and drawing himself up to his full, unimpressive height. “They are my private writings about private things and give it back now please.”

“Well gosh, I suppose I could do that,” Steve pondered, “Or we could do the thing that made Tony sigh contentedly.”

Tony cocked his head to the side. “Really?” he asked.

Steve smiled. “Only if you’ve got a domino mask handy, of course.”

Tony grabbed Steve’s hand and lead him down the hall. “If you have to ask that question, you definitely haven’t read chapter twelve.”

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