Fic: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Wanks
Jul. 24th, 2012 10:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
abstractconceptTitle: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Wanks 1/2
Pairings: Steve Rogers/Phil Coulson
Betas and Pre-Readers:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
isisanubis, adele_sparks and fairyniamh
Prompt: The Avengers discover Agent Coulson's collection of Captain America memorabilia and are surprised to discover that it contains a large number of rather *ahem* well-loved Tijuana bibles (like Sally Jupiter's in Watchmen) and other bits of erotica. Everyone but Steve is amused. Steve goes from embarrassed to flattered to intrigued to aroused before deciding it's time to make some of Agent Coulson's fantasies into realities. (http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/6565.html?thread=12123557#t12123557)
Word Count: ~14,000
Rated: R-ish
Summary: Eventually Steve comes around to the idea that a dirty picture might be just another way to say ‘I love you.’
A Picture is Worth a Thousand Wanks
Steve took a brisk walk around the Helicarrier, nodding to people as he passed. “Hello, Enrique,” he said. The young man gave him a grin and a jaunty salute before continuing toward the bridge. “Good to see you, Agent Hill.” Agent Hill just gave him a brisk nod.
Steve had told the others he was having a walk around the newly-restored Helicarrier because he liked to keep moving; he had excess energy after a mission and the one they had just finished had, after all, been a bit of a let down, the criminal falling all too easily after Tony and Steve’s one-two punch. But in truth, Steve wasn’t really that wound up. He just wanted to play what he called ‘the name game.’ The people on the Helicarrier were his colleagues and allies; Steve had always found he was a much more effective leader when he could tack a name onto an order.
Besides, people liked it. Almost everyone responded well to someone wanting to get to know them. Well, except for Fury, who had narrowed his eye at Steve and wanted to know what sensitive information Steve was angling for. From then on, Steve would not inquire as to the wife and family, if any, and stick to the weather.
Steve’s steps carried him into a narrower corridor, and he slowed. These were the private quarters of the top agents. There probably wouldn’t be anyone in them just now. On the other hand, the mission was finished. Perhaps some of them were having some down time. Steve would like to stop in and say hello to Agent Coulson. This was the man’s first mission since being released from the hospital, and Steve enjoyed his company. And the agent’s face always lit up when he saw Steve; it was nice to feel so welcome and liked.
And Agent Coulson’s door was open.
Steve passed a hand through his hair, then checked quickly to make sure there was no lint on his suit. Perhaps it was a bit silly, but he respected the agent. It was a little like speaking to a senior officer. It was just good decorum to make sure one’s uniform was right, even if Steve had left the military behind.
But instead of Agent Coulson, Steve found Tony Stark rummaging around in a cabinet.
“What are you doing?” Steve demanded.
“Looking for my air horn,” Tony replied. “I’m looking to make it part of the suit, but Coulson confiscated it. I told him I’d get it back.” Suddenly Tony grinned. “Got it. Guess where he had it? Filed under ‘P.’ Bet you ten bucks that means ‘pain in the ass.’ Oooo. Here’s another folder. Marked ‘private.’” Tony wiggled his eyebrows.
“Leave it alone,” Steve sighed. Keeping Tony Stark out of trouble was a full time job that should come with a great pension and a dental plan.
“Look, if he doesn’t want me going through it, he shouldn’t have stolen my toy and put it in the same filing cabinet where he keeps his love letters to Captain America,” Tony said reasonably.
Steve blinked at him. “Love letters?” he echoed.
Tony shrugged. “I bet there are.”
“You shouldn’t be going through other people’s private things,” Steve said, aware that he was lecturing Tony. He only wished Tony didn’t need lecturing. Sometimes Steve felt like he was the youngest person in the group—his body was, at any rate, and in terms of life experience, there were times he felt awfully green—but at other times, he felt every minute of his ninety-odd years on Earth. Tony, in particular, had a knack for bringing out the elderly school marm in him.
“Geez, always so uptight,” Tony commented. “Look, I’m just curious, okay? You never get curious what’s behind that impassive mask that Coulson wears?”
“I don’t find him that unreadable,” Steve replied. Coulson had always looked at him with frank admiration. It was heartening, and the respect was entirely mutual.
“Okay, I’ll give you that one. When he talks to you, I can almost see his tail wagging.” Steve shifted his weight, embarrassed by the observation. “But, you know, I’ve known him longer, and he’s usually a very cool cucumber. Anyway, it’s not like I’m going through his underwear drawer. I’ll do that when Mr. Morals leaves,” Tony muttered. “Oooh, jackpot!” He pulled out a small comic. “And plenty more where that came from.”
Steve grabbed it out of Tony’s hands. “That’s enough,” he said severely. “You’re being an ass.” He opened the drawer and shoved the comic back in, then slammed it shut. Tony tried to open it, but Steve held it closed, and Tony wasn’t wearing the suit, so there wasn’t much he could do about it.
“It’s just a comic,” Tony told him.
“Out. Now.”
Tony heaved a sigh. “Fine. You’re right; I shouldn’t go through people’s private stuff.” He sauntered over to the door, looking innocent all over. Steve watching him through narrow eyes and kept his hand on the drawer. “I’m not sure how big a secret it is that he collects Captain America paraphernalia, though, so the comic isn’t exactly news.”
Steve blinked. “The comic . . . features me?”
“Yep,” Tony told him. “Right on the cover, looking dashing and brave.”
“Oh.” Steve looked at the cabinet.
“He was probably reading it in his spare time. Me, I’d have bought it just to draw silly mustaches on you.” Tony leaned against the doorframe, grinning.
Steve cleared his throat. “Yeah, you probably would.” After a few moments of inner struggle, Steve gave up and opened the drawer. He was too curious not to. Captain America’s mighty deeds had continued on paper even after Steve’s crash into the ice, and it always amazed him to find what people dreamt of him doing. There were literally dozens of the little comics in there, all with his face on them.
“Hah. I knew even Mr. Goody Two Shoes couldn’t resist looking at himself.”
Steve shrugged. “I just want to know what crazy adventure I had,” he said. After all, it was about him. He was entitled to know, wasn’t he? But the comic wasn’t at all what he expected. It was a little thing, practically a pamphlet, all foxed and well-worn, and right in the first few panels he was . . . he was . . . taking off his clothes? Steve gaped.
There was Captain America in all his dubious glory, helmet on but suit off, muscles bulging and penis erect, a pretty blonde girl on her knees in front of him. And people had seen this. Agent Coulson had seen this! Had practically seen Steve naked, cavorting with some cartoon woman! Embarrassment roared through Steve, his face burning.
“Wow. What the hell is in that comic?” Tony asked after seeing his reaction. Before Steve could protest, Tony leapt across the room and snatched it from his hands.
Steve made a grab at it, but Tony backed away. Steve didn’t want him running off with the thing. All he needed was for Coulson to come back and discover it was gone. “Stark, please. Put it back.”
Tony wasn’t about to do that. “Oh. I see. And this was army life, doing the Commander’s wife? Steve, you dog, you.”
“You know perfectly well it’s all fiction,” Steve mumbled. “It’s an eight-pager. They were—popular once. I’ve seen ’em around.” But none of them featured me, he added in his head.
“Uh-huh.” Tony leaned against the doorframe again, flipping through the pages. “Well, someone recreated you in loving detail, didn’t they?” he teased. He gleefully held up a picture of Captain America with a rampant erection. “Too bad the scale is all off,” Tony noted with a leer.
“It really isn’t,” a new voice put in.
Tony spun to find Natasha standing behind him. She’d been looking around his arm at the comic, and now Steve’s humiliation was doubled.
“No?” Tony said, unfazed.
“Not from what I’ve heard,” she said.
“That’s enough,” Steve said. He yanked the book out of Tony’s grip.
“Sorry,” Natasha told him. “I was just trying to help. You know, boost your ego?”
“Well, you’re not helping,” Steve replied hotly.
“It was a joke, Cap,” Natasha assured him. “Why don’t we cool off, put that away, and get out of here before Coulson finds out you were going through his things?”
“Before Coulson finds out what?” a new voice interrupted.
Natasha made a face. “Sorry, Cap.” She turned away and scooted past Agent Coulson. “You two knuckleheads are on your own.”
Phil Coulson looked at the eight-pager in Steve’s hands. “Oh,” he said quietly. In almost direct contrast to Steve’s ever-brighter blush, the blood drained from the agent’s face. He looked absolutely mortified. So much for Tony’s ‘cool cucumber’ agent. “I was just—that was just—it was vintage,” the man explained in a small voice.
Steve took a deep breath. It was no good trying to pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened now. Better just to put everything out on the table. “Tony, please leave,” he said.
“Leaving,” Tony said. He gave Steve a sharp salute and disappeared, obviously glad to be out of the middle of all this, even though it was entirely his doing.
Steve licked his lips. “I’m not really comfortable with this,” he confessed. He handed the book to Agent Coulson. “To be honest, I find it a little disrespectful and—and hurtful. I understand why people would be curious or titillated by that kind of thing but . . . well, I’m a real person, you know?”
“I’m very sorry.” Coulson’s face was beginning to turn as red as Steve’s. “That was—it was an error in judgment. It won’t happen again. I’m afraid I was overzealous in trying to make sure my collection was complete.” He promptly tore up the little vintage booklet with shaking hands and dropped them in a waste basket. He looked absolutely miserable, and Steve felt a funny twist in his stomach. He didn’t want the man to feel bad, he just didn’t want people having naked pictures of him. “I’ll get rid of all of them. I promise. I really hope you can forgive me.”
Steve gave him a warm smile. “If you can forgive me for invading your privacy,” he said a bit wryly. “I shouldn’t have done that, either. I’m sorry. Friends?” he said, offering his hand.
The agent shook his hand. “Sure,” Coulson said weakly.
“We’ll say no more about it,” Steve assured him.
***
Late that night found Steve wandering the Helicarrier again, feeling out of sorts. He wondered if Coulson was still as embarrassed as he was. He wondered if he’d been too stiff about the whole thing; Tony was constantly having to remind him that sex was viewed differently now. Maybe he should have laughed the whole thing off.
Most of all, he hoped Coulson wasn’t upset. He really did like and respect the man, and the thought of this souring their friendship gave him an ache in his stomach.
Sighing, Steve trudged along the lonely corridor, head hanging. He should go back to the Agent’s room. Talk to him. Assure him everything was all right between them. Get things back on track.
The very thought made him straighten; he always felt better facing things head on. He went straight to the senior agents’ quarters and stood outside Coulson’s door. Steve took a deep breath, and then something clanged behind him.
Heart pounding, Steve spun, expecting some sort of attack. He was surprised to find Barton behind him. “Where did you come from?”
Barton pointed to the catwalk above them. He lifted his chin a little in a ‘come here’ gesture, and Steve obediently followed him back down the corridor. “What were you doing visiting Agent Coulson?” he asked.
Steve blushed. “Oh. There was this—um, thing, earlier, and I—”
“The dirty magazine?” Clint asked with a wicked smile. “Yeah, everyone’s talking about that,” he said. He shook his head a little.
“Really?” That was not at all what Steve had hoped to hear.
“Tony Fucking Stark,” Clint said.
“Yeah. Well . . . Agent Coulson explained to me that it was just a collector’s item, so no harm done.”
“Collector’s item my ass,” Clint replied.
“What?”
“He has a thing for you.” Clint removed an arrow from his quill—Steve wondered briefly why the man was carrying it around the Helicarrier in the middle of the night—and examined the tip. “You know; he likes you.”
“Likes me?” Steve repeated.
Clint rolled his eyes. “He’s smitten, okay?”
“Oh,” Steve said. He could feel his face heat up, his shoulders tightening. Today was made of embarrassment and weirdness. “Why are you telling me this?”
Barton leaned back against the wall, watching Steve’s expression closely. “Well, you know how it is. You’re from a more . . . conservative time and all that. I wanted to tell you before you found out some other way and blurted something hateful or stupid in front Coulson.”
Steve leaned against the opposite wall, realization slowly dawning. “You’re . . . trying to protect Agent Coulson.”
Clint shrugged. “He’s had my back in some nasty situations, and I’m returning the favor. By heading this off at the pass and giving you time to process everything, it lessens the chances that Captain America will say something rude and wake up with an arrow sticking out of his nose. I’m trying to save us both some embarrassment, is what I’m saying,” Clint said.
“God knows I’ve had my share of that for the day,” Steve muttered, rubbing the back of his head. He let out a long breath. Phil Coulson liked him. It was somehow much less shocking than he would have expected. In fact, a large part of him was saying, Yeah, he does. Of course he does. You knew that, even if you didn’t want to acknowledge it. All the same, Steve wasn’t sure what he was going to do with the knowledge.
“So. Are we going to have a little spat about this or what?” Clint asked. He was still toying with the tip of the arrow.
“What?” Steve had trouble returning his concentration to the conversation.
“A spat. A dust-up. Are you going to give me problems, is what I’m saying.” Clint flexed a little, his eyes glinting like steel in the dim light of the echoing corridor. “I know you’re strong, but I can take you. I’ll just get on your back and ride you like a damn bull ‘till you’re out of steam.”
“What?” Steve shook his head to clear it. “No. That won’t be necessary. No, we’re not going to fight,” he said. Apart from anything else, the idea of running down the corridor with a screaming Clint clinging to his shoulders and possibly trying to jam an arrow in his ear held all the hallmarks of more humiliation, and he was done with that for the day. “I’m just surprised. But I’m not angry, and I promise I won’t say anything offensive to Agent Coulson. He’s a brave and good man and he certainly doesn’t deserve further embarrassment over this.”
Clint blinked a little.
“What’s wrong?”
“Such a boy scout. Nothing. Never mind. Just glad I didn’t have to wipe the floor with you.” Clint offered his hand and Steve shook it. “Night, Captain.”
“Good night, Agent Barton.” When Clint walked away, Steve headed straight back to his own chambers. He was done wandering the Hellicarrier. It got him into too much trouble.
***
Steve brushed his hair back with one hand. His hair was still damp from the shower, but it would be dry soon. He found an early morning workout helped him stay focused and ready for whatever the day brought. At heart, Steve liked routine. And the aerobic exercise always left him feeling good.
He wanted a cup of coffee. Maybe some food or something, but definitely a cup of coffee. The cafeteria had been opened for ten minutes, so he took the stairs two at a time—slamming into someone coming down, of course. Coulson. It would be Coulson. “Oh. Agent Coulson. Good morning.”
Coulson looked flustered.
Steve was suddenly aware that he was wearing a cheap white T that was nearly see-through when slipped on over a still slightly-wet body. He’d been in a bit of a rush, eager to get a Danish or something, but maybe he should have taken an extra few moments to dry off. The look of longing Coulson was directing at Steve’s chest was totally disconcerting . . . and kind of flattering. Steve found himself flustered too.
The agent shook his head a little and forced himself to look away. “Good morning, Captain,” Coulson muttered to his coffee. He had dark circles under his eyes, but he seemed as composed as possible considering the situation.
Steve sought for something to say to put the man at ease. “Are the pecs g—oh, lord. No. Is the coffee good this morning?” he croaked.
“Terrible.”
“Ha. Well. I love a good cup of bad coffee,” Steve said. He winced a little. What a stupid thing to say. “Sit with me?”
Coulson rubbed the back of his neck. “I have . . . I have reports to finish,” he said.
“Come on, just a cup,” Steve wheedled. He hated to think of himself as a guy who wheedled, but the situation warranted a bit of wheedling. The idea of Phil Coulson being unhappy and ashamed every time he got near Steve made him feel sick and sort of desperate. He was not unaware that Coulson was one of the closest things he had to a friend—possibly the only person on this whole flying nuthouse who understood him. “Please?”
Coulson met his eyes—finally—and sort of seemed to melt. Everything except his mouth said, I can’t say no to the puppy eyes. His mouth just said, “Sure.”
Of course, that didn’t make things suddenly okay again. Even after they sat down in the cafeteria, the men looked at each other, sipped their coffee awkwardly, and then tried to avoid each other’s gazes.
“So,” Steve said. He fiddled with the salt shaker.
Coulson cleared his throat and played with his mug.
“That last mission was easier than I expected.” Steve tried to be bright. Happy. Normal.
“Yes. You work well with Stark.”
“Yeah. Well. Sure. In the rare moments he’s not making me want to throttle him, anyway.”
Agent Coulson nodded. “He’s better at being annoying than he is at saving the world, and that’s saying something,” he agreed.
Steve grinned in relief. “I don’t understand half the things he says when we’re in the middle of battle,” he admitted. “I don’t think he says them for my benefit at all. I think he just likes to talk.”
Coulson half smiled at that. “That’s probably a large part of it. He likes to psych himself up—and psych the other guy out. It’s the equivalent of a Viking berserker screaming incoherently and biting his shield,” the agent said wryly.
Steve had to laugh at the image. “I don’t think Tony would want to mess up his perfect teeth.”
Coulson laughed a little, too. “True.”
They fell into silence again, but it was less awkward now. “I like your mug,” Steve finally said. It had a shield on the side. His shield. It meant a lot to Steve that Coulson kept using it, even now.
Coulson shrugged, but he seemed pleased. “Everyone knows it’s mine.” His voice was soft. “No one’s allowed to use it except for me.”
He met Steve’s eyes, briefly, before they both looked away. “I like it,” Steve said again. He couldn’t say, I know. And it’s okay with me. ‘I like it,’ was as close as he could come. He didn’t want to embarrass the man again. He watched as Coulson lovingly traced the concentric rings with his fingertip.
The cafeteria began to fill up around them, the Helicarrier coming to life. Everyone was chatty and excited; they’d be heading home today.
“I should go,” the man finally said. He gave Steve an apologetic half shrug. “Those reports,” he explained, getting up.
Steve shot to his feet, knocking his chair over. “Lunch?” he said.
Coulson stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“Lunch. That. Uh. We eat. We could eat together?” Steve hated how foolish he sounded. Why was he stumbling all over himself? It was disgraceful. “I mean . . .” Steve cleared his throat. “I’d like to buy you lunch. If you’re not busy.”
Coulson blinked at the suggestion. His grin was shy. “Um, sure. Yes. If you want to,” he said. Steve hated to admit it, but the man was positively adorable like this, flummoxed and grateful and so much more vulnerable than any cool cucumber agent Tony touted.
“Good,” Steve breathed. “Lunch.”
Coulson stuck out his hand. “Yeah. See you then?”
It took a couple of seconds before it registered, and then Steve grabbed the proffered hand and shook it hard. “Yes. Sorry. Lunch,” he said. What the hell was wrong with him? He felt like he’d been ten steps behind for the past day.
Coulson gave him another adoring smile, which made Steve’s stomach do unexpected things. With a last nod, the agent left, and Steve stood there for an extra minute or two, looking stupid, his chair upended and his hand still extended.
A woman Steve didn’t recognize passed, her eyebrows raised, and Steve came back to himself and scrambled to get the chair up and tried to look like he wasn’t being a jackass. Dammit, what the hell was going on?
Well, he’d made up with Agent Coulson, anyway.
That was good. Wasn’t it?
***
Steve arrived at Agent Coulson’s door just before noon. It was open, but Steve rapped on the door frame anyway. He was never going in again without permission. “Hey,” he said.
Coulson looked up from his desk, which Natasha was leaning on. The assassin looked at Steve questioningly.
“I’m here to pick up Agent Coulson.” Steve swallowed hard. “For lunch,” he explained. The expression on Natasha’s face said, ‘Oh, really? Isn’t that interesting?’ but she didn’t say it out loud.
Instead she smiled. Steve couldn’t tell if it was sincere or teasing or what. “That will be nice. For both of you,” she said.
“You’re welcome to join us,” Coulson said after an awkward moment.
“Would not dream of intruding,” she promised. She pushed herself away from the desk. “Thanks for putting in the requisition for me,” she told Coulson, and added with a wink, “Have fun.”
Coulson averted his face from her like he was annoyed, but Steve couldn’t see anything wrong with it. Maybe he was just failing at understanding modern nonverbal communication. It wouldn’t be the first time. He’d always found women hard to read.
After Natasha left, Coulson grabbed up a briefcase and several books. He gave Steve a tight smile. “I have to return these to Agent Lewis after lunch. I’m afraid I won’t have time after that as we’re scheduled to land just outside of the Springs and that’s his bus stop.”
Steve watched as Coulson tried to balance everything he needed to carry. “Here, let me help you with those.” Steve offered a hand and took most of the books.
“You’ll . . . carry my books for me?” Phil Coulson raised his eyebrows. “Jesus, it’s like I’m back in high school,” he said as he led the way to the door, which he carefully closed and locked. “Mind you, a much better version of high school than I got,” he muttered.
Steve actually thought he understood that reference, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “I don’t mind,” he said. “I’ll carry your books whenever you want.” Okay, he wasn’t sure why he said that, but it felt like the right thing to say.
Phil chortled. It might even have been a giddy chuckle, or a well-disguised giggle. Then he cleared his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Steve followed him back down the hall, books tucked under one arm. “Did you read all of these?” he asked.
“I made it through several of them, yes. I enjoy reading. What most people don’t realize is that the life of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent is a long stretch of boredom papered with expense reports, punctuated occasionally by total fucking chaos. It’s nice to have a hobby when you’re waiting for the chaos,” he said dryly.
“Ah. It’s probably good to work on your mind. I know what you mean.” Steve glanced down at one of the books. Chinua Achibe. It was all Greek to him, so to speak. “I usually do sit-ups when I get bored,” he went on.
Phil glanced wistfully over his shoulder. “Of course you do,” he muttered.
When they got to the cafeteria, Steve grabbed a burger and fries. Ever since the super soldier serum, his appetite had become substantial.
“I want to apologize again for the other day,” Agent Coulson said once they’d found a place to sit. “It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable.”
“Well,” Steve said after taking a sip of cola, “It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable either. I should not have been in your room. Though, in my own defense, Tony started it.”
Coulson heaved a sigh. “He usually does. He also apologized to me this morning, though. Sort of.” The man poked at his food and added, “He passed me in the hall and hissed, ‘Sorry Cap found your collection of pornographic pictures of him and incidentally I probably shouldn’t have broken into your room and gone through your private stuff.’”
“Sounds like Tony,” Steve said with a laugh.
“But . . . we’re okay, right?” The agent looked at him anxiously. “I really, um, admire you, and I would hate for a lapse in judgment to color your opinion of me forever.”
“I have a very high opinion of you,” Steve assured the man. Coulson turned a bit red. “It’s water under the bridge.”
“I—I’m really glad. And I’m glad that you asked me to lunch.” The man relaxed a little. Coulson had chosen a helping of lasagna and some salad, but didn’t seem especially interested in eating. He was more engrossed with Steve. “It’s a real . . .” he trailed off as Steve raised a French fry to his mouth and bit it in half. “It’s a—it’s a treat. A real treat.” He blinked a little as Steve licked the ketchup off his fingers. “Even if it’s cafeteria food,” Phil added with a weak laugh. He cleared his throat and made an effort to stop staring and looked down at his plate.
Steve couldn’t help but be mesmerized in turn. Tony said Phil Coulson was so smooth, so reserved. Steve had broken through that the first day they met. The only problem was that Steve didn’t know what to do with that. Watching Coulson blush and squirm was starting to make Steve feel like blushing and squirming. It was ridiculous. And a little exciting, if Steve was being perfectly honest with himself.
“So . . . tell me about this cellist of yours,” Steve said as casually as possible.
Phil blinked in surprise. “Who told you about that?”
“Tony.”
“Of course. Well, erm, he isn’t exactly ‘my’ cellist anymore. That was months ago.”
“He?” Steve repeated. Steve couldn’t be too surprised, considering his conversation with Clint.
“Oh.” Phil looked down at his food again. “I guess Tony didn’t mention that.”
“Not important,” Steve replied, feeling very suave to be so cool and relaxed with the idea. Back in his day, people made a big damn deal about sex. It was kind of satisfying to act nonchalant about it. “You aren’t . . . together anymore?”
“No. He had opportunities and wanted adventure, and I had commitments and . . . we were at different places in our lives.”
“Do you have a picture of him?” Steve couldn’t help it. He was curious.
With a shrug and a smile, Coulson pulled out his phone and scrolled through some things before handing it over. The man was young—Steve’s age, possibly—and very good looking, with dark curls and a broad smile.
“Wow, he’s really handsome!” Steve exclaimed.
Coulson smiled a crooked little smile. “Yes. He is very handsome,” he agreed ruefully.
Steve considered this. “More handsome than me?” He tried not to sound plaintive.
The agent flushed. “I—well—I—” he stuttered.
Steve got a warm rush of pleasure. The more Coulson stammered and blushed, the more Steve wanted to make him stammer and blush. He was turning into a terrible person. “You don’t have to answer that.”
“No! I mean, yes. I mean, no.” Coulson blew out a long breath. “It’s fine to ask. I’ll answer, if you really want to know. No, he isn’t as, um, handsome as you are. I doubt there’s anyone on Earth who’s as handsome as you are,” he admitted.
Steve beamed at him. “Thank you.”
Coulson laughed. “I’m surprised you’re not a little more shocked. At the—at the fact that I was—dating a man. I mean, the time you came from was . . .”
“Different,” Steve supplied. “Not really that different. Besides, if I went around dropping my jaw at every little change since my time, I’d be gaping like an idiot at everything from soda machines to . . . to cell phones. You can’t be shocked all the time. Some of the changes are really quite useful,” he added, handing Phil’s phone back.
“You don’t have one of these yet, do you?” the man asked.
“Tony built one for me, but I haven’t really learned to use it,” Steve admitted. He took his out of his pocket. It was very flashy, a sleek thing that looked as if it could navigate deep space or street-race a Ferrari.
“Here, I’ll put my contact info in it,” Phil offered, and Steve gladly handed it over. “That way you can call—or email me—if you need anything. You know . . . if things get too different.”
“Thanks,” Steve said. “I’d like that a lot.”
Phil grinned, cleared his throat, and tried to look serious again. He totally failed to look anything but absolutely delighted, though, as he eagerly punched in his number.
It was crazy how flattering that was. How could Steve make someone that happy by doing something so easy? Phil’s whole face just lit up, and it was just—okay, it was kind of precious, even if that was a completely ridiculous word. Just . . . where did you even find something that wonderful these days? In a world full of complicated stuff, Steve appreciated Phil’s simple infatuation.
Steve accepted his phone back and looked at it. “I’m going to have to get Tony to give me a crash course in modern technology,” he remarked. “This thing has all the bells and whistles, I’m sure. I can just about use a regular cell phone. Tony’s stuff? A total mystery.”
Phil laughed. “I admit, I looked through the options and even I don’t know what half of them do. For all I know the whole damn thing unfolds and turns into a wristwatch that shoots flames at people.”
“That would be just like Tony.” Steve grinned. “Brilliant, but for some reason demanding to run before crawling or walking. But you have to admit he’s enthusiastic,” he added. “He reminds me of his father. Did I tell you I knew his father?”
Phil shook his head. He swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I did read something about it, though. Perhaps in one of your files. Howard Stark never wanted to stop searching for you. You must have been close friends.”
Steve wiggled a hand in a ‘sort of’ gesture. “Yes, but initially he made a pass at my girl. We got past it, but it’s not the best way to start things.”
“Your girl,” Coulson said quietly. “Ah.” Apparently Peggy wasn’t in Steve’s file, or not as a love interest, anyway. Which was as it should be. Steve liked the fact that it had been kept private.
“Well, again . . .” Steve made the same little gesture. “I would have married her, I think. Married her like a shot.” He looked down at the last of his hamburger and fries and suddenly didn’t feel like eating. “I don’t know how she’d feel about me bragging on her as ‘my girl,’ though. She was fiercely independent, and unfortunately I wasn’t around long enough for us to make anything of it.” He smiled sadly at Phil. “Peggy and I were a might have been that never was.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ve been processing it for months, so the pain isn’t quite as fresh. But she was special.”
Agent Coulson smiled. “I don’t suppose you have a picture of her?”
“Actually, I do.” Steve reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. “It’s not in very good shape anymore. It survived the crash in the ice with me.” The picture was worn, but you could mostly make Peggy out.
“She’s lovely,” Phil said with a sigh. “And smart, too; you can see it in her eyes.”
God, now Steve was starting to get sentimental. “And brave,” he added. “She was incredibly brave.” He put the picture away.
“You know, if you . . . . if you trust me with it, I could scan it and have a digital copy made. It wouldn’t further degrade that way,” Phil explained. “It’s just something to think about. I wouldn’t do anything to harm the picture, of course—I’d merely make a sort of copy.”
Steve did think about it. It wasn’t that hard a decision. He pulled the little photo back out and handed it to Coulson with only a brief moment of pain as it passed out of his fingers. “I do trust you,” he said.
Coulson looked genuinely touched. Maybe things were back to normal between them.
Why, then, did Steve suddenly not quite like the idea of normal anymore? Oh, well.
Just then, a voice came over the loudspeaker, announcing that they would be landing in less than an hour.
Steve and Phil looked at each other.
“Well. We’ll have to do this again sometime,” Agent Coulson said.
“Yes,” Steve agreed. “Call me when you can bring the picture back, and we’ll get together.”
***
“Well, that’s it for today, then. Stark, you can stop bitching that I don’t keep you in the loop,” Fury concluded, giving Tony a stern look.
Tony fiddled with his phone. “Huh? I’m sorry, were you saying something?”
Fury didn’t dignify this with a response, but he did roll his eye. Ostensibly, he’d called the meeting to keep them updated on what was going on, so Tony would stop jabbering on all the secret things S.H.I.E.L.D. was doing behind the Avengers’ backs, but Steve guessed it was really just because Fury wanted to keep an eye on them and see how they were progressing.
Which was pretty well. Tony had invited them to live at Stark Tower, and that was nice because Steve’s former apartment had been destroyed in the wake of Loki’s attack. And they were bonding fairly well, all things considered.
Fury leaned on the round table. “One more thing. I sent Coulson to check out a site in Switzerland and I’d like you to hear his report.”
Steve brightened. Coulson appeared on a large screen in front of them. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said to Fury, his expression bland.
Steve, however, was so pleased to see him that he found himself grinning broadly. “Can he see us, too?” he asked Director Fury.
“He can see you,” Fury said in a weary voice.
“Hey!” Steve chirped, waving at the man.
There was an obvious moment where ‘protocol’ warred with ‘personal’ in Coulson’s head. Then he broke down and raised a hand to give a brief wave, his smile crooked. “Captain,” he said.
“Steve,” Steve corrected. “Since we’re friends and all.”
“Ha. Right. Steve.” Agent Coulson cleared his throat and adjusted his tie a little. He was wearing one of his signature suits, dark and well-tailored, and he looked great. “I’ve been traversing frozen wastes, looking for evidence of scientists coming through the area long ago,” he explained to them. “But I’m afraid I haven’t found anything of interest to us yet.”
Then Fury broke in with a technical question, and Coulson had to switch gears and be professional again. Steve watched in bemusement; the man could flick his authority on like a switch. Steve really admired how calm he was. But when he caught Steve’s eye again, he blushed a little. Steve hastily looked away, his own face warm. He hoped Coulson didn’t notice.
Next to him, Tony leaned over. “Psst. Steve. Hey, Steve.”
“What, Tony? You don’t need to ‘psst’ at me. I’m right here.” Tony had broken through his reverie, and Steve was annoyed.
“Just so you know, you’re not the only person in the room. I mean, have a little dignity.”
“What?”
“He squirms so you squirm; he blushes and you blush. I mean, it’s hilarious, but also kind of painful. I’m starting to blush and squirm out of discomfort, Bruce, here, is starting to do it out of sympathy . . . I’m not sure Natasha can blush, when it’s not on cue and all, but seriously, whatever you’re doing, just stop.”
“I was doing that?”
“A lot, Steve. Like, a lot. You need to pull it together. You’re not going to do this the next time we have to fight an alien monster, are you? Blush at him? Because I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it won’t send a very good message.” Tony gave Steve a pointed look. “Here comes Captain America and his mighty shield and rosy cheeks, batting his damn eyes. Somehow I don’t see the bad guys quaking in fear.”
“I—I wasn’t—” Steve swallowed. “I was not batting my eyes. I just haven’t seen Agent Coulson in a couple of weeks.”
“I haven’t seen Agent Coulson for a couple of weeks either. For some reason, I can still manage to contain my impulse to blush at the man. Okay? Anyway, you could have just called him.”
“Still learning to work that stup—that phone you gave me.”
“Fine. I’ll give you a one-on-one lesson, and maybe make a manual.”
“Thanks, Tony.”
“Anything to prevent this travesty from happening again.” Tony shuddered a little. “Great, now even Clint’s doing it. You’ve got us all fucked up.”
“Sorry.”
***
“So, if I want to take a picture, I press . . .”
“This button. Right here. The one that looks like a camera, sort of.” To Tony’s credit, he was incredibly patient with Steve about explaining technology. His love of gadgets was obvious. “And see, that’s what you use to call someone. Or you can video-chat if you press this instead.”
“Okay, yeah, I think I got that. And this button will bring up texts.” Steve pressed Agent Coulson’s phone number and typed, Hi.
It beeped as Coulson returned the greeting. What r u up 2? 4give spelling; hiding phone—in a conference.
Oops. Steve hadn’t meant to disturb the man. Sorry, he typed back. Just learning how to use this thing. Didn’t mean to bother you.
He didn’t expect a response, but in a moment there was another beep. Don’t apologize. Tax issues. SO BORED. In a cheeky addition, the man had added, Save me, Cap. America.
Steve laughed out loud.
“Okay, what the hell are you doing?” Tony asked, trying to look over Steve’s shoulder. Steve held him off with one hand. He loved it when Tony wasn’t wearing the suit.
After thinking a moment, Steve replied. Ok. Will swoop in and save you w/my amazing math skills. 2+2=4!!! Bam, another equation solved thanks to CAPTAIN AMERICA.
“What the shit are you giggling about?” Tony demanded.
If I get fired 4 laughing out loud during Jenkins’ powerpoint pres. on cap gains, ur in trouble. Another message quickly followed the first. Serious, tho., u r great. Saved me from dull meeting. My hero.
I’ll catch you if you swoon, promise, Steve typed back. I know my math skills tend to overwhelm people.
Ha ha, yes, I’m sure it’s the math. There was a pause. I shld go. Jenkins getting grumpy.
Steve sighed. They’d been having a moment. It was almost flirting.
“Maybe I should just leave you with the manual,” Tony said. “I mean, you obviously don’t need me.”
Steve suppressed an eye roll. Tony hated not being the center of attention. “No, it’s fine,” he said, but accepted the manual anyway. “Thanks. This is really helpful.” He sighed again. “I wish people came with a manual,” he mumbled.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Steve could feel his ears growing warm. “I just—it would just be nice to—you know—know how to push someone’s buttons.”
“Like flirting?” Tony responded, taken aback.
“Well, yes.” Steve felt defensive. “What’s wrong with that? I mean, I—well, I haven’t had a lot of experience with these things and . . . and in my day . . .” Steve swallowed hard. “Just . . . well, it wasn’t considered all right for two men to . . . I mean, it’s difficult to explain how I feel when—”
“Steve.” Tony put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Buddy. You are a super guy. A super guy. Honest, brave, kind to old ladies and animals. And you’re a really good-looking fellow. And I’m flattered, I really am, but—”
“What? Tony, no.” Steve was mortified. He couldn’t decide if it made things better or worse that Tony was actually rejecting what he’d interpreted as a romantic pass. “Not you, Tony, I swear. It was, um, just . . . the person I was texting,” he said.
“Oh. Thank God. And too bad. Pepper would probably have gone for a threesome.”
“Tony.”
“I know, I know. It would have made things really awkward,” Tony agreed.
Steve looked at his phone glumly. “It would just be nice to be able to say, ‘Hey, I’m attracted to you. Let’s have dinner if you’re up for it.”
Tony gave him a withering look. “And that’s sooooooooo hard,” he said sarcastically. “Here.” He grabbed the phone out of Steve’s hands and typed something, fingers so fast and furious that Steve couldn’t begin to guess what he was doing.
“What was that? What did you just do?”
Tony handed the phone back. “Nothing.”
The phone beeped. Steve stared at it. Would love to have dinner with you, it said. Will call you soon.
“Oh,” Steve said. He looked at Tony. “How did you do that?”
Tony rolled his eyes. “I wrote, ‘Hey, I’m attracted to you. Let’s have dinner if you’re up for it.’”
Steve gaped.
“You’re welcome.” Tony patted him on the shoulder and walked away.
Continue to Part 2
Pairings: Steve Rogers/Phil Coulson
Betas and Pre-Readers:
isisanubis, adele_sparks and fairyniamhPrompt: The Avengers discover Agent Coulson's collection of Captain America memorabilia and are surprised to discover that it contains a large number of rather *ahem* well-loved Tijuana bibles (like Sally Jupiter's in Watchmen) and other bits of erotica. Everyone but Steve is amused. Steve goes from embarrassed to flattered to intrigued to aroused before deciding it's time to make some of Agent Coulson's fantasies into realities. (http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/6565.html?thread=12123557#t12123557)
Word Count: ~14,000
Rated: R-ish
Summary: Eventually Steve comes around to the idea that a dirty picture might be just another way to say ‘I love you.’
Steve took a brisk walk around the Helicarrier, nodding to people as he passed. “Hello, Enrique,” he said. The young man gave him a grin and a jaunty salute before continuing toward the bridge. “Good to see you, Agent Hill.” Agent Hill just gave him a brisk nod.
Steve had told the others he was having a walk around the newly-restored Helicarrier because he liked to keep moving; he had excess energy after a mission and the one they had just finished had, after all, been a bit of a let down, the criminal falling all too easily after Tony and Steve’s one-two punch. But in truth, Steve wasn’t really that wound up. He just wanted to play what he called ‘the name game.’ The people on the Helicarrier were his colleagues and allies; Steve had always found he was a much more effective leader when he could tack a name onto an order.
Besides, people liked it. Almost everyone responded well to someone wanting to get to know them. Well, except for Fury, who had narrowed his eye at Steve and wanted to know what sensitive information Steve was angling for. From then on, Steve would not inquire as to the wife and family, if any, and stick to the weather.
Steve’s steps carried him into a narrower corridor, and he slowed. These were the private quarters of the top agents. There probably wouldn’t be anyone in them just now. On the other hand, the mission was finished. Perhaps some of them were having some down time. Steve would like to stop in and say hello to Agent Coulson. This was the man’s first mission since being released from the hospital, and Steve enjoyed his company. And the agent’s face always lit up when he saw Steve; it was nice to feel so welcome and liked.
And Agent Coulson’s door was open.
Steve passed a hand through his hair, then checked quickly to make sure there was no lint on his suit. Perhaps it was a bit silly, but he respected the agent. It was a little like speaking to a senior officer. It was just good decorum to make sure one’s uniform was right, even if Steve had left the military behind.
But instead of Agent Coulson, Steve found Tony Stark rummaging around in a cabinet.
“What are you doing?” Steve demanded.
“Looking for my air horn,” Tony replied. “I’m looking to make it part of the suit, but Coulson confiscated it. I told him I’d get it back.” Suddenly Tony grinned. “Got it. Guess where he had it? Filed under ‘P.’ Bet you ten bucks that means ‘pain in the ass.’ Oooo. Here’s another folder. Marked ‘private.’” Tony wiggled his eyebrows.
“Leave it alone,” Steve sighed. Keeping Tony Stark out of trouble was a full time job that should come with a great pension and a dental plan.
“Look, if he doesn’t want me going through it, he shouldn’t have stolen my toy and put it in the same filing cabinet where he keeps his love letters to Captain America,” Tony said reasonably.
Steve blinked at him. “Love letters?” he echoed.
Tony shrugged. “I bet there are.”
“You shouldn’t be going through other people’s private things,” Steve said, aware that he was lecturing Tony. He only wished Tony didn’t need lecturing. Sometimes Steve felt like he was the youngest person in the group—his body was, at any rate, and in terms of life experience, there were times he felt awfully green—but at other times, he felt every minute of his ninety-odd years on Earth. Tony, in particular, had a knack for bringing out the elderly school marm in him.
“Geez, always so uptight,” Tony commented. “Look, I’m just curious, okay? You never get curious what’s behind that impassive mask that Coulson wears?”
“I don’t find him that unreadable,” Steve replied. Coulson had always looked at him with frank admiration. It was heartening, and the respect was entirely mutual.
“Okay, I’ll give you that one. When he talks to you, I can almost see his tail wagging.” Steve shifted his weight, embarrassed by the observation. “But, you know, I’ve known him longer, and he’s usually a very cool cucumber. Anyway, it’s not like I’m going through his underwear drawer. I’ll do that when Mr. Morals leaves,” Tony muttered. “Oooh, jackpot!” He pulled out a small comic. “And plenty more where that came from.”
Steve grabbed it out of Tony’s hands. “That’s enough,” he said severely. “You’re being an ass.” He opened the drawer and shoved the comic back in, then slammed it shut. Tony tried to open it, but Steve held it closed, and Tony wasn’t wearing the suit, so there wasn’t much he could do about it.
“It’s just a comic,” Tony told him.
“Out. Now.”
Tony heaved a sigh. “Fine. You’re right; I shouldn’t go through people’s private stuff.” He sauntered over to the door, looking innocent all over. Steve watching him through narrow eyes and kept his hand on the drawer. “I’m not sure how big a secret it is that he collects Captain America paraphernalia, though, so the comic isn’t exactly news.”
Steve blinked. “The comic . . . features me?”
“Yep,” Tony told him. “Right on the cover, looking dashing and brave.”
“Oh.” Steve looked at the cabinet.
“He was probably reading it in his spare time. Me, I’d have bought it just to draw silly mustaches on you.” Tony leaned against the doorframe, grinning.
Steve cleared his throat. “Yeah, you probably would.” After a few moments of inner struggle, Steve gave up and opened the drawer. He was too curious not to. Captain America’s mighty deeds had continued on paper even after Steve’s crash into the ice, and it always amazed him to find what people dreamt of him doing. There were literally dozens of the little comics in there, all with his face on them.
“Hah. I knew even Mr. Goody Two Shoes couldn’t resist looking at himself.”
Steve shrugged. “I just want to know what crazy adventure I had,” he said. After all, it was about him. He was entitled to know, wasn’t he? But the comic wasn’t at all what he expected. It was a little thing, practically a pamphlet, all foxed and well-worn, and right in the first few panels he was . . . he was . . . taking off his clothes? Steve gaped.
There was Captain America in all his dubious glory, helmet on but suit off, muscles bulging and penis erect, a pretty blonde girl on her knees in front of him. And people had seen this. Agent Coulson had seen this! Had practically seen Steve naked, cavorting with some cartoon woman! Embarrassment roared through Steve, his face burning.
“Wow. What the hell is in that comic?” Tony asked after seeing his reaction. Before Steve could protest, Tony leapt across the room and snatched it from his hands.
Steve made a grab at it, but Tony backed away. Steve didn’t want him running off with the thing. All he needed was for Coulson to come back and discover it was gone. “Stark, please. Put it back.”
Tony wasn’t about to do that. “Oh. I see. And this was army life, doing the Commander’s wife? Steve, you dog, you.”
“You know perfectly well it’s all fiction,” Steve mumbled. “It’s an eight-pager. They were—popular once. I’ve seen ’em around.” But none of them featured me, he added in his head.
“Uh-huh.” Tony leaned against the doorframe again, flipping through the pages. “Well, someone recreated you in loving detail, didn’t they?” he teased. He gleefully held up a picture of Captain America with a rampant erection. “Too bad the scale is all off,” Tony noted with a leer.
“It really isn’t,” a new voice put in.
Tony spun to find Natasha standing behind him. She’d been looking around his arm at the comic, and now Steve’s humiliation was doubled.
“No?” Tony said, unfazed.
“Not from what I’ve heard,” she said.
“That’s enough,” Steve said. He yanked the book out of Tony’s grip.
“Sorry,” Natasha told him. “I was just trying to help. You know, boost your ego?”
“Well, you’re not helping,” Steve replied hotly.
“It was a joke, Cap,” Natasha assured him. “Why don’t we cool off, put that away, and get out of here before Coulson finds out you were going through his things?”
“Before Coulson finds out what?” a new voice interrupted.
Natasha made a face. “Sorry, Cap.” She turned away and scooted past Agent Coulson. “You two knuckleheads are on your own.”
Phil Coulson looked at the eight-pager in Steve’s hands. “Oh,” he said quietly. In almost direct contrast to Steve’s ever-brighter blush, the blood drained from the agent’s face. He looked absolutely mortified. So much for Tony’s ‘cool cucumber’ agent. “I was just—that was just—it was vintage,” the man explained in a small voice.
Steve took a deep breath. It was no good trying to pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened now. Better just to put everything out on the table. “Tony, please leave,” he said.
“Leaving,” Tony said. He gave Steve a sharp salute and disappeared, obviously glad to be out of the middle of all this, even though it was entirely his doing.
Steve licked his lips. “I’m not really comfortable with this,” he confessed. He handed the book to Agent Coulson. “To be honest, I find it a little disrespectful and—and hurtful. I understand why people would be curious or titillated by that kind of thing but . . . well, I’m a real person, you know?”
“I’m very sorry.” Coulson’s face was beginning to turn as red as Steve’s. “That was—it was an error in judgment. It won’t happen again. I’m afraid I was overzealous in trying to make sure my collection was complete.” He promptly tore up the little vintage booklet with shaking hands and dropped them in a waste basket. He looked absolutely miserable, and Steve felt a funny twist in his stomach. He didn’t want the man to feel bad, he just didn’t want people having naked pictures of him. “I’ll get rid of all of them. I promise. I really hope you can forgive me.”
Steve gave him a warm smile. “If you can forgive me for invading your privacy,” he said a bit wryly. “I shouldn’t have done that, either. I’m sorry. Friends?” he said, offering his hand.
The agent shook his hand. “Sure,” Coulson said weakly.
“We’ll say no more about it,” Steve assured him.
Late that night found Steve wandering the Helicarrier again, feeling out of sorts. He wondered if Coulson was still as embarrassed as he was. He wondered if he’d been too stiff about the whole thing; Tony was constantly having to remind him that sex was viewed differently now. Maybe he should have laughed the whole thing off.
Most of all, he hoped Coulson wasn’t upset. He really did like and respect the man, and the thought of this souring their friendship gave him an ache in his stomach.
Sighing, Steve trudged along the lonely corridor, head hanging. He should go back to the Agent’s room. Talk to him. Assure him everything was all right between them. Get things back on track.
The very thought made him straighten; he always felt better facing things head on. He went straight to the senior agents’ quarters and stood outside Coulson’s door. Steve took a deep breath, and then something clanged behind him.
Heart pounding, Steve spun, expecting some sort of attack. He was surprised to find Barton behind him. “Where did you come from?”
Barton pointed to the catwalk above them. He lifted his chin a little in a ‘come here’ gesture, and Steve obediently followed him back down the corridor. “What were you doing visiting Agent Coulson?” he asked.
Steve blushed. “Oh. There was this—um, thing, earlier, and I—”
“The dirty magazine?” Clint asked with a wicked smile. “Yeah, everyone’s talking about that,” he said. He shook his head a little.
“Really?” That was not at all what Steve had hoped to hear.
“Tony Fucking Stark,” Clint said.
“Yeah. Well . . . Agent Coulson explained to me that it was just a collector’s item, so no harm done.”
“Collector’s item my ass,” Clint replied.
“What?”
“He has a thing for you.” Clint removed an arrow from his quill—Steve wondered briefly why the man was carrying it around the Helicarrier in the middle of the night—and examined the tip. “You know; he likes you.”
“Likes me?” Steve repeated.
Clint rolled his eyes. “He’s smitten, okay?”
“Oh,” Steve said. He could feel his face heat up, his shoulders tightening. Today was made of embarrassment and weirdness. “Why are you telling me this?”
Barton leaned back against the wall, watching Steve’s expression closely. “Well, you know how it is. You’re from a more . . . conservative time and all that. I wanted to tell you before you found out some other way and blurted something hateful or stupid in front Coulson.”
Steve leaned against the opposite wall, realization slowly dawning. “You’re . . . trying to protect Agent Coulson.”
Clint shrugged. “He’s had my back in some nasty situations, and I’m returning the favor. By heading this off at the pass and giving you time to process everything, it lessens the chances that Captain America will say something rude and wake up with an arrow sticking out of his nose. I’m trying to save us both some embarrassment, is what I’m saying,” Clint said.
“God knows I’ve had my share of that for the day,” Steve muttered, rubbing the back of his head. He let out a long breath. Phil Coulson liked him. It was somehow much less shocking than he would have expected. In fact, a large part of him was saying, Yeah, he does. Of course he does. You knew that, even if you didn’t want to acknowledge it. All the same, Steve wasn’t sure what he was going to do with the knowledge.
“So. Are we going to have a little spat about this or what?” Clint asked. He was still toying with the tip of the arrow.
“What?” Steve had trouble returning his concentration to the conversation.
“A spat. A dust-up. Are you going to give me problems, is what I’m saying.” Clint flexed a little, his eyes glinting like steel in the dim light of the echoing corridor. “I know you’re strong, but I can take you. I’ll just get on your back and ride you like a damn bull ‘till you’re out of steam.”
“What?” Steve shook his head to clear it. “No. That won’t be necessary. No, we’re not going to fight,” he said. Apart from anything else, the idea of running down the corridor with a screaming Clint clinging to his shoulders and possibly trying to jam an arrow in his ear held all the hallmarks of more humiliation, and he was done with that for the day. “I’m just surprised. But I’m not angry, and I promise I won’t say anything offensive to Agent Coulson. He’s a brave and good man and he certainly doesn’t deserve further embarrassment over this.”
Clint blinked a little.
“What’s wrong?”
“Such a boy scout. Nothing. Never mind. Just glad I didn’t have to wipe the floor with you.” Clint offered his hand and Steve shook it. “Night, Captain.”
“Good night, Agent Barton.” When Clint walked away, Steve headed straight back to his own chambers. He was done wandering the Hellicarrier. It got him into too much trouble.
Steve brushed his hair back with one hand. His hair was still damp from the shower, but it would be dry soon. He found an early morning workout helped him stay focused and ready for whatever the day brought. At heart, Steve liked routine. And the aerobic exercise always left him feeling good.
He wanted a cup of coffee. Maybe some food or something, but definitely a cup of coffee. The cafeteria had been opened for ten minutes, so he took the stairs two at a time—slamming into someone coming down, of course. Coulson. It would be Coulson. “Oh. Agent Coulson. Good morning.”
Coulson looked flustered.
Steve was suddenly aware that he was wearing a cheap white T that was nearly see-through when slipped on over a still slightly-wet body. He’d been in a bit of a rush, eager to get a Danish or something, but maybe he should have taken an extra few moments to dry off. The look of longing Coulson was directing at Steve’s chest was totally disconcerting . . . and kind of flattering. Steve found himself flustered too.
The agent shook his head a little and forced himself to look away. “Good morning, Captain,” Coulson muttered to his coffee. He had dark circles under his eyes, but he seemed as composed as possible considering the situation.
Steve sought for something to say to put the man at ease. “Are the pecs g—oh, lord. No. Is the coffee good this morning?” he croaked.
“Terrible.”
“Ha. Well. I love a good cup of bad coffee,” Steve said. He winced a little. What a stupid thing to say. “Sit with me?”
Coulson rubbed the back of his neck. “I have . . . I have reports to finish,” he said.
“Come on, just a cup,” Steve wheedled. He hated to think of himself as a guy who wheedled, but the situation warranted a bit of wheedling. The idea of Phil Coulson being unhappy and ashamed every time he got near Steve made him feel sick and sort of desperate. He was not unaware that Coulson was one of the closest things he had to a friend—possibly the only person on this whole flying nuthouse who understood him. “Please?”
Coulson met his eyes—finally—and sort of seemed to melt. Everything except his mouth said, I can’t say no to the puppy eyes. His mouth just said, “Sure.”
Of course, that didn’t make things suddenly okay again. Even after they sat down in the cafeteria, the men looked at each other, sipped their coffee awkwardly, and then tried to avoid each other’s gazes.
“So,” Steve said. He fiddled with the salt shaker.
Coulson cleared his throat and played with his mug.
“That last mission was easier than I expected.” Steve tried to be bright. Happy. Normal.
“Yes. You work well with Stark.”
“Yeah. Well. Sure. In the rare moments he’s not making me want to throttle him, anyway.”
Agent Coulson nodded. “He’s better at being annoying than he is at saving the world, and that’s saying something,” he agreed.
Steve grinned in relief. “I don’t understand half the things he says when we’re in the middle of battle,” he admitted. “I don’t think he says them for my benefit at all. I think he just likes to talk.”
Coulson half smiled at that. “That’s probably a large part of it. He likes to psych himself up—and psych the other guy out. It’s the equivalent of a Viking berserker screaming incoherently and biting his shield,” the agent said wryly.
Steve had to laugh at the image. “I don’t think Tony would want to mess up his perfect teeth.”
Coulson laughed a little, too. “True.”
They fell into silence again, but it was less awkward now. “I like your mug,” Steve finally said. It had a shield on the side. His shield. It meant a lot to Steve that Coulson kept using it, even now.
Coulson shrugged, but he seemed pleased. “Everyone knows it’s mine.” His voice was soft. “No one’s allowed to use it except for me.”
He met Steve’s eyes, briefly, before they both looked away. “I like it,” Steve said again. He couldn’t say, I know. And it’s okay with me. ‘I like it,’ was as close as he could come. He didn’t want to embarrass the man again. He watched as Coulson lovingly traced the concentric rings with his fingertip.
The cafeteria began to fill up around them, the Helicarrier coming to life. Everyone was chatty and excited; they’d be heading home today.
“I should go,” the man finally said. He gave Steve an apologetic half shrug. “Those reports,” he explained, getting up.
Steve shot to his feet, knocking his chair over. “Lunch?” he said.
Coulson stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“Lunch. That. Uh. We eat. We could eat together?” Steve hated how foolish he sounded. Why was he stumbling all over himself? It was disgraceful. “I mean . . .” Steve cleared his throat. “I’d like to buy you lunch. If you’re not busy.”
Coulson blinked at the suggestion. His grin was shy. “Um, sure. Yes. If you want to,” he said. Steve hated to admit it, but the man was positively adorable like this, flummoxed and grateful and so much more vulnerable than any cool cucumber agent Tony touted.
“Good,” Steve breathed. “Lunch.”
Coulson stuck out his hand. “Yeah. See you then?”
It took a couple of seconds before it registered, and then Steve grabbed the proffered hand and shook it hard. “Yes. Sorry. Lunch,” he said. What the hell was wrong with him? He felt like he’d been ten steps behind for the past day.
Coulson gave him another adoring smile, which made Steve’s stomach do unexpected things. With a last nod, the agent left, and Steve stood there for an extra minute or two, looking stupid, his chair upended and his hand still extended.
A woman Steve didn’t recognize passed, her eyebrows raised, and Steve came back to himself and scrambled to get the chair up and tried to look like he wasn’t being a jackass. Dammit, what the hell was going on?
Well, he’d made up with Agent Coulson, anyway.
That was good. Wasn’t it?
Steve arrived at Agent Coulson’s door just before noon. It was open, but Steve rapped on the door frame anyway. He was never going in again without permission. “Hey,” he said.
Coulson looked up from his desk, which Natasha was leaning on. The assassin looked at Steve questioningly.
“I’m here to pick up Agent Coulson.” Steve swallowed hard. “For lunch,” he explained. The expression on Natasha’s face said, ‘Oh, really? Isn’t that interesting?’ but she didn’t say it out loud.
Instead she smiled. Steve couldn’t tell if it was sincere or teasing or what. “That will be nice. For both of you,” she said.
“You’re welcome to join us,” Coulson said after an awkward moment.
“Would not dream of intruding,” she promised. She pushed herself away from the desk. “Thanks for putting in the requisition for me,” she told Coulson, and added with a wink, “Have fun.”
Coulson averted his face from her like he was annoyed, but Steve couldn’t see anything wrong with it. Maybe he was just failing at understanding modern nonverbal communication. It wouldn’t be the first time. He’d always found women hard to read.
After Natasha left, Coulson grabbed up a briefcase and several books. He gave Steve a tight smile. “I have to return these to Agent Lewis after lunch. I’m afraid I won’t have time after that as we’re scheduled to land just outside of the Springs and that’s his bus stop.”
Steve watched as Coulson tried to balance everything he needed to carry. “Here, let me help you with those.” Steve offered a hand and took most of the books.
“You’ll . . . carry my books for me?” Phil Coulson raised his eyebrows. “Jesus, it’s like I’m back in high school,” he said as he led the way to the door, which he carefully closed and locked. “Mind you, a much better version of high school than I got,” he muttered.
Steve actually thought he understood that reference, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “I don’t mind,” he said. “I’ll carry your books whenever you want.” Okay, he wasn’t sure why he said that, but it felt like the right thing to say.
Phil chortled. It might even have been a giddy chuckle, or a well-disguised giggle. Then he cleared his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Steve followed him back down the hall, books tucked under one arm. “Did you read all of these?” he asked.
“I made it through several of them, yes. I enjoy reading. What most people don’t realize is that the life of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent is a long stretch of boredom papered with expense reports, punctuated occasionally by total fucking chaos. It’s nice to have a hobby when you’re waiting for the chaos,” he said dryly.
“Ah. It’s probably good to work on your mind. I know what you mean.” Steve glanced down at one of the books. Chinua Achibe. It was all Greek to him, so to speak. “I usually do sit-ups when I get bored,” he went on.
Phil glanced wistfully over his shoulder. “Of course you do,” he muttered.
When they got to the cafeteria, Steve grabbed a burger and fries. Ever since the super soldier serum, his appetite had become substantial.
“I want to apologize again for the other day,” Agent Coulson said once they’d found a place to sit. “It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable.”
“Well,” Steve said after taking a sip of cola, “It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable either. I should not have been in your room. Though, in my own defense, Tony started it.”
Coulson heaved a sigh. “He usually does. He also apologized to me this morning, though. Sort of.” The man poked at his food and added, “He passed me in the hall and hissed, ‘Sorry Cap found your collection of pornographic pictures of him and incidentally I probably shouldn’t have broken into your room and gone through your private stuff.’”
“Sounds like Tony,” Steve said with a laugh.
“But . . . we’re okay, right?” The agent looked at him anxiously. “I really, um, admire you, and I would hate for a lapse in judgment to color your opinion of me forever.”
“I have a very high opinion of you,” Steve assured the man. Coulson turned a bit red. “It’s water under the bridge.”
“I—I’m really glad. And I’m glad that you asked me to lunch.” The man relaxed a little. Coulson had chosen a helping of lasagna and some salad, but didn’t seem especially interested in eating. He was more engrossed with Steve. “It’s a real . . .” he trailed off as Steve raised a French fry to his mouth and bit it in half. “It’s a—it’s a treat. A real treat.” He blinked a little as Steve licked the ketchup off his fingers. “Even if it’s cafeteria food,” Phil added with a weak laugh. He cleared his throat and made an effort to stop staring and looked down at his plate.
Steve couldn’t help but be mesmerized in turn. Tony said Phil Coulson was so smooth, so reserved. Steve had broken through that the first day they met. The only problem was that Steve didn’t know what to do with that. Watching Coulson blush and squirm was starting to make Steve feel like blushing and squirming. It was ridiculous. And a little exciting, if Steve was being perfectly honest with himself.
“So . . . tell me about this cellist of yours,” Steve said as casually as possible.
Phil blinked in surprise. “Who told you about that?”
“Tony.”
“Of course. Well, erm, he isn’t exactly ‘my’ cellist anymore. That was months ago.”
“He?” Steve repeated. Steve couldn’t be too surprised, considering his conversation with Clint.
“Oh.” Phil looked down at his food again. “I guess Tony didn’t mention that.”
“Not important,” Steve replied, feeling very suave to be so cool and relaxed with the idea. Back in his day, people made a big damn deal about sex. It was kind of satisfying to act nonchalant about it. “You aren’t . . . together anymore?”
“No. He had opportunities and wanted adventure, and I had commitments and . . . we were at different places in our lives.”
“Do you have a picture of him?” Steve couldn’t help it. He was curious.
With a shrug and a smile, Coulson pulled out his phone and scrolled through some things before handing it over. The man was young—Steve’s age, possibly—and very good looking, with dark curls and a broad smile.
“Wow, he’s really handsome!” Steve exclaimed.
Coulson smiled a crooked little smile. “Yes. He is very handsome,” he agreed ruefully.
Steve considered this. “More handsome than me?” He tried not to sound plaintive.
The agent flushed. “I—well—I—” he stuttered.
Steve got a warm rush of pleasure. The more Coulson stammered and blushed, the more Steve wanted to make him stammer and blush. He was turning into a terrible person. “You don’t have to answer that.”
“No! I mean, yes. I mean, no.” Coulson blew out a long breath. “It’s fine to ask. I’ll answer, if you really want to know. No, he isn’t as, um, handsome as you are. I doubt there’s anyone on Earth who’s as handsome as you are,” he admitted.
Steve beamed at him. “Thank you.”
Coulson laughed. “I’m surprised you’re not a little more shocked. At the—at the fact that I was—dating a man. I mean, the time you came from was . . .”
“Different,” Steve supplied. “Not really that different. Besides, if I went around dropping my jaw at every little change since my time, I’d be gaping like an idiot at everything from soda machines to . . . to cell phones. You can’t be shocked all the time. Some of the changes are really quite useful,” he added, handing Phil’s phone back.
“You don’t have one of these yet, do you?” the man asked.
“Tony built one for me, but I haven’t really learned to use it,” Steve admitted. He took his out of his pocket. It was very flashy, a sleek thing that looked as if it could navigate deep space or street-race a Ferrari.
“Here, I’ll put my contact info in it,” Phil offered, and Steve gladly handed it over. “That way you can call—or email me—if you need anything. You know . . . if things get too different.”
“Thanks,” Steve said. “I’d like that a lot.”
Phil grinned, cleared his throat, and tried to look serious again. He totally failed to look anything but absolutely delighted, though, as he eagerly punched in his number.
It was crazy how flattering that was. How could Steve make someone that happy by doing something so easy? Phil’s whole face just lit up, and it was just—okay, it was kind of precious, even if that was a completely ridiculous word. Just . . . where did you even find something that wonderful these days? In a world full of complicated stuff, Steve appreciated Phil’s simple infatuation.
Steve accepted his phone back and looked at it. “I’m going to have to get Tony to give me a crash course in modern technology,” he remarked. “This thing has all the bells and whistles, I’m sure. I can just about use a regular cell phone. Tony’s stuff? A total mystery.”
Phil laughed. “I admit, I looked through the options and even I don’t know what half of them do. For all I know the whole damn thing unfolds and turns into a wristwatch that shoots flames at people.”
“That would be just like Tony.” Steve grinned. “Brilliant, but for some reason demanding to run before crawling or walking. But you have to admit he’s enthusiastic,” he added. “He reminds me of his father. Did I tell you I knew his father?”
Phil shook his head. He swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I did read something about it, though. Perhaps in one of your files. Howard Stark never wanted to stop searching for you. You must have been close friends.”
Steve wiggled a hand in a ‘sort of’ gesture. “Yes, but initially he made a pass at my girl. We got past it, but it’s not the best way to start things.”
“Your girl,” Coulson said quietly. “Ah.” Apparently Peggy wasn’t in Steve’s file, or not as a love interest, anyway. Which was as it should be. Steve liked the fact that it had been kept private.
“Well, again . . .” Steve made the same little gesture. “I would have married her, I think. Married her like a shot.” He looked down at the last of his hamburger and fries and suddenly didn’t feel like eating. “I don’t know how she’d feel about me bragging on her as ‘my girl,’ though. She was fiercely independent, and unfortunately I wasn’t around long enough for us to make anything of it.” He smiled sadly at Phil. “Peggy and I were a might have been that never was.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ve been processing it for months, so the pain isn’t quite as fresh. But she was special.”
Agent Coulson smiled. “I don’t suppose you have a picture of her?”
“Actually, I do.” Steve reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. “It’s not in very good shape anymore. It survived the crash in the ice with me.” The picture was worn, but you could mostly make Peggy out.
“She’s lovely,” Phil said with a sigh. “And smart, too; you can see it in her eyes.”
God, now Steve was starting to get sentimental. “And brave,” he added. “She was incredibly brave.” He put the picture away.
“You know, if you . . . . if you trust me with it, I could scan it and have a digital copy made. It wouldn’t further degrade that way,” Phil explained. “It’s just something to think about. I wouldn’t do anything to harm the picture, of course—I’d merely make a sort of copy.”
Steve did think about it. It wasn’t that hard a decision. He pulled the little photo back out and handed it to Coulson with only a brief moment of pain as it passed out of his fingers. “I do trust you,” he said.
Coulson looked genuinely touched. Maybe things were back to normal between them.
Why, then, did Steve suddenly not quite like the idea of normal anymore? Oh, well.
Just then, a voice came over the loudspeaker, announcing that they would be landing in less than an hour.
Steve and Phil looked at each other.
“Well. We’ll have to do this again sometime,” Agent Coulson said.
“Yes,” Steve agreed. “Call me when you can bring the picture back, and we’ll get together.”
“Well, that’s it for today, then. Stark, you can stop bitching that I don’t keep you in the loop,” Fury concluded, giving Tony a stern look.
Tony fiddled with his phone. “Huh? I’m sorry, were you saying something?”
Fury didn’t dignify this with a response, but he did roll his eye. Ostensibly, he’d called the meeting to keep them updated on what was going on, so Tony would stop jabbering on all the secret things S.H.I.E.L.D. was doing behind the Avengers’ backs, but Steve guessed it was really just because Fury wanted to keep an eye on them and see how they were progressing.
Which was pretty well. Tony had invited them to live at Stark Tower, and that was nice because Steve’s former apartment had been destroyed in the wake of Loki’s attack. And they were bonding fairly well, all things considered.
Fury leaned on the round table. “One more thing. I sent Coulson to check out a site in Switzerland and I’d like you to hear his report.”
Steve brightened. Coulson appeared on a large screen in front of them. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said to Fury, his expression bland.
Steve, however, was so pleased to see him that he found himself grinning broadly. “Can he see us, too?” he asked Director Fury.
“He can see you,” Fury said in a weary voice.
“Hey!” Steve chirped, waving at the man.
There was an obvious moment where ‘protocol’ warred with ‘personal’ in Coulson’s head. Then he broke down and raised a hand to give a brief wave, his smile crooked. “Captain,” he said.
“Steve,” Steve corrected. “Since we’re friends and all.”
“Ha. Right. Steve.” Agent Coulson cleared his throat and adjusted his tie a little. He was wearing one of his signature suits, dark and well-tailored, and he looked great. “I’ve been traversing frozen wastes, looking for evidence of scientists coming through the area long ago,” he explained to them. “But I’m afraid I haven’t found anything of interest to us yet.”
Then Fury broke in with a technical question, and Coulson had to switch gears and be professional again. Steve watched in bemusement; the man could flick his authority on like a switch. Steve really admired how calm he was. But when he caught Steve’s eye again, he blushed a little. Steve hastily looked away, his own face warm. He hoped Coulson didn’t notice.
Next to him, Tony leaned over. “Psst. Steve. Hey, Steve.”
“What, Tony? You don’t need to ‘psst’ at me. I’m right here.” Tony had broken through his reverie, and Steve was annoyed.
“Just so you know, you’re not the only person in the room. I mean, have a little dignity.”
“What?”
“He squirms so you squirm; he blushes and you blush. I mean, it’s hilarious, but also kind of painful. I’m starting to blush and squirm out of discomfort, Bruce, here, is starting to do it out of sympathy . . . I’m not sure Natasha can blush, when it’s not on cue and all, but seriously, whatever you’re doing, just stop.”
“I was doing that?”
“A lot, Steve. Like, a lot. You need to pull it together. You’re not going to do this the next time we have to fight an alien monster, are you? Blush at him? Because I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it won’t send a very good message.” Tony gave Steve a pointed look. “Here comes Captain America and his mighty shield and rosy cheeks, batting his damn eyes. Somehow I don’t see the bad guys quaking in fear.”
“I—I wasn’t—” Steve swallowed. “I was not batting my eyes. I just haven’t seen Agent Coulson in a couple of weeks.”
“I haven’t seen Agent Coulson for a couple of weeks either. For some reason, I can still manage to contain my impulse to blush at the man. Okay? Anyway, you could have just called him.”
“Still learning to work that stup—that phone you gave me.”
“Fine. I’ll give you a one-on-one lesson, and maybe make a manual.”
“Thanks, Tony.”
“Anything to prevent this travesty from happening again.” Tony shuddered a little. “Great, now even Clint’s doing it. You’ve got us all fucked up.”
“Sorry.”
“So, if I want to take a picture, I press . . .”
“This button. Right here. The one that looks like a camera, sort of.” To Tony’s credit, he was incredibly patient with Steve about explaining technology. His love of gadgets was obvious. “And see, that’s what you use to call someone. Or you can video-chat if you press this instead.”
“Okay, yeah, I think I got that. And this button will bring up texts.” Steve pressed Agent Coulson’s phone number and typed, Hi.
It beeped as Coulson returned the greeting. What r u up 2? 4give spelling; hiding phone—in a conference.
Oops. Steve hadn’t meant to disturb the man. Sorry, he typed back. Just learning how to use this thing. Didn’t mean to bother you.
He didn’t expect a response, but in a moment there was another beep. Don’t apologize. Tax issues. SO BORED. In a cheeky addition, the man had added, Save me, Cap. America.
Steve laughed out loud.
“Okay, what the hell are you doing?” Tony asked, trying to look over Steve’s shoulder. Steve held him off with one hand. He loved it when Tony wasn’t wearing the suit.
After thinking a moment, Steve replied. Ok. Will swoop in and save you w/my amazing math skills. 2+2=4!!! Bam, another equation solved thanks to CAPTAIN AMERICA.
“What the shit are you giggling about?” Tony demanded.
If I get fired 4 laughing out loud during Jenkins’ powerpoint pres. on cap gains, ur in trouble. Another message quickly followed the first. Serious, tho., u r great. Saved me from dull meeting. My hero.
I’ll catch you if you swoon, promise, Steve typed back. I know my math skills tend to overwhelm people.
Ha ha, yes, I’m sure it’s the math. There was a pause. I shld go. Jenkins getting grumpy.
Steve sighed. They’d been having a moment. It was almost flirting.
“Maybe I should just leave you with the manual,” Tony said. “I mean, you obviously don’t need me.”
Steve suppressed an eye roll. Tony hated not being the center of attention. “No, it’s fine,” he said, but accepted the manual anyway. “Thanks. This is really helpful.” He sighed again. “I wish people came with a manual,” he mumbled.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Steve could feel his ears growing warm. “I just—it would just be nice to—you know—know how to push someone’s buttons.”
“Like flirting?” Tony responded, taken aback.
“Well, yes.” Steve felt defensive. “What’s wrong with that? I mean, I—well, I haven’t had a lot of experience with these things and . . . and in my day . . .” Steve swallowed hard. “Just . . . well, it wasn’t considered all right for two men to . . . I mean, it’s difficult to explain how I feel when—”
“Steve.” Tony put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Buddy. You are a super guy. A super guy. Honest, brave, kind to old ladies and animals. And you’re a really good-looking fellow. And I’m flattered, I really am, but—”
“What? Tony, no.” Steve was mortified. He couldn’t decide if it made things better or worse that Tony was actually rejecting what he’d interpreted as a romantic pass. “Not you, Tony, I swear. It was, um, just . . . the person I was texting,” he said.
“Oh. Thank God. And too bad. Pepper would probably have gone for a threesome.”
“Tony.”
“I know, I know. It would have made things really awkward,” Tony agreed.
Steve looked at his phone glumly. “It would just be nice to be able to say, ‘Hey, I’m attracted to you. Let’s have dinner if you’re up for it.”
Tony gave him a withering look. “And that’s sooooooooo hard,” he said sarcastically. “Here.” He grabbed the phone out of Steve’s hands and typed something, fingers so fast and furious that Steve couldn’t begin to guess what he was doing.
“What was that? What did you just do?”
Tony handed the phone back. “Nothing.”
The phone beeped. Steve stared at it. Would love to have dinner with you, it said. Will call you soon.
“Oh,” Steve said. He looked at Tony. “How did you do that?”
Tony rolled his eyes. “I wrote, ‘Hey, I’m attracted to you. Let’s have dinner if you’re up for it.’”
Steve gaped.
“You’re welcome.” Tony patted him on the shoulder and walked away.
Continue to Part 2
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2012-07-27 01:22 am (UTC)“Oh,” Steve said. He looked at Tony. “How did you do that?”
Tony rolled his eyes. “I wrote, ‘Hey, I’m attracted to you. Let’s have dinner if you’re up for it.'"
U r so evol!
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Date: 2012-08-06 04:53 pm (UTC)