#she also definitely has a few ex girlfriends she’s ducking into corners to avoid & I think that’s even FUNNIER

[detectiveneve]

think the whole gang should visit emrys’ tiny village on the way to baldurs gate so they can witness how every village girlie was obsessed with her a bit and how she’s clearly flustered but also goes right back into the mode of kissing hands and bowing respectfully and offering flowers to old ladies and everyone asking her to carry stuff so she does. village butch hunk style.

[explosionshark]

24, oxenfree if that's alright 😳👉👈 with any characters, i don't mind!

jsyk if you ever leave it up to me the oxenfree content i come up with WILL be clarissa/alex

24. “You’re trembling.”

The tactful thing to do, Alex knows, would be not to acknowledge it at all. But no one’s ever accused Alex of having tact before, and they certainly aren’t about to start now.

“Sue me, it’s cold,” Clarissa says, despite the fact that it’s the warmest night they’ve had since summer started – nearly eighty degrees and not showing any signs of cooling off any time soon. Still, the glare she shoots Alex’s way is so withering that it stops any argument she’d been idly considering in her throat.

Alex may not be tactful, but she also doesn’t have a deathwish.

She nods, taking another pull off the sweating bottle of Miller High Life that Ren definitely stole from his dad, and dramatically shivers. “Oh. Yeah, freezing.”

They’re not exactly friends, not in that easy, comfortable, obvious way that Alex is with Ren and Jonas and even Nona, now, after everything.

But they’re something to each other, now. Something more than dead brother’s ex-girlfriend and dead ex-boyfriend’s little sister. Something that means that they go to the same parties now, that they come to in different cars, with different groups. Parties that always find them just like this anyway; posted up in some corner, or leaned against some wall together, away from everyone else. They don’t talk or dance or do anything, but they share space and when it’s time to leave, they go together.

So, even though it’s a bit early than they usually dip out and their friends will definitely notice, Alex makes a show of checking her watch. She glances from her wrist to Clarissa’s pinched face and sighs, kicking off from the wall and grabbing Clarissa at the wrist, tugging her along. “C’mon. You need a smoke.”

“Oh, gee, so glad I have you to remind me what I need,” Clarissa grumbles, but she’s already fumbling for the pack in her back pocket. “How much is Marlboro paying you for this?”

“Please,” Alex scoffs. “My grandpa smokes Marlboros. You smoke American Spirit Lights.”

“Why do you make that sound like an insult?” Clarissa mutters around the cigarette in her mouth, flicking her lighter and fighting to keep the flame going long enough to light it.

It’s not going so well, so Alex steps in, gently pulling the lighter from her hands and cupping the flame to protect it from the warm breeze that’s rolling through Ren’s backyard. 

It doesn’t really dawn on her how intimate the gesture is until she’s already doing it. Clarissa, ducked down to reach the flame, looks up at Alex through her lashes, a tiny clump of mascara clinging to the tips of them. Human and close enough to touch, sucking in air and tobacco, pushing out smoke.

The moment seems to last forever, but then Clarissa pulls back, takes another long drag of the cigarette, cherry glowing like a tiny traffic light in the night. Stop.

There’s a few people hanging out back here, so Clarissa wanders around the side of the house, towards the trash bins. It’s not exactly a scenic place to chill out, which must mean Clarissa wants to talk. The thought has Alex feeling weirdly nervous, leaves her dragging her suddenly sweaty palms down the thighs of her jeans.

But Clarissa doesn’t say anything. She just smokes and broods and makes this face like she’s swallowed a pine cone and trying not to show it. Like whatever she’s holding onto hurts but she won’t try to fix it.

And it’s just them and a few lungfuls of shared cigarette smoke and the trash and the music from Ren’s party that drifts out of the cracked window on the wall above them so Alex takes a breath and asks, “So what was it?”

Clarissa pretends not to hear. Alex knows it’s pretending, because the cigarette between her fingers flutters on its way back to her lips and when she takes another drag she does it way too hard again.

 Alex almost asks again, but Clarissa’s biting her lip so hard, and the tremble that Alex had noticed back inside the party has started up again.

Alex doesn’t let herself think about what it means, or how it makes her feel, or why it’s so easy when it shouldn’t be, when she slides over against the wall until her shoulder knocks against Clarissa’s. And it feels good, to be touching her even a little bit like this. And Clarissa’s shaking eases up after just a few moments, reduced to intermittent shivers. So then it just makes sense, to lift up her arm, to drape it over Clarissa’s shoulder. It just make sense when Clarissa sighs out another lungful of smoke and dips down to tuck herself against Alex’s side.

And maybe that’s fine. Maybe it can just make sense in its own way. Maybe they don’t have to overthink it. Maybe it can work like this. 

“The strobe light,” Clarissa says, minutes later and it’s so sudden that Alex actually jumps. It takes her a moment to realize Clarissa’s finally answering her question. 

“The strobe light?”

“The one Ren set up in the living room,” Clarissa says, voice thick and wet. She laughs, smoke-rough and tear choked. “I guess he got the kind that changes colors. I don’t know, I was avoiding the crowd, I stayed out of there but I looked over, and I could see through the crack under the hall door. The whole room lit up red. And I thought… and it felt like…. It’s so stupid, right?”

Clarissa brings the heel of her palm up to push the tears out of her eyes, scattering cigarette ash down over them like a pale, grey snowfall.

“So stupid that it’s been all these months and I’m fine most of the time except I can’t go to the beach anymore and I have all these stupid fucking nightmares all the time and I can’t go to a fucking party without having a panic attack about what color the lights were and I…”

Don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink it.

Alex slides her arm back, rests her palm on the ball of Clarissa’s shoulder. She shifts to face her, places her other had around the back of Clarissa’s head and guides her until they’re pressed forehead to forehead.

“Shhh,” she says, half expecting to be smacked for shushing Clarissa at all. Thankfully, she isn’t. “Watch me breathe.”

She counts her inhales and exhales, like she’d learned in therapy. After a moment, she feels Clarissa matching her, eyes fluttering shut. “Good. Like that. Good.”

She realizes, at some point, that Clarissa had dropped her cigarette to hold onto Alex. One hand clutching Alex’s waist, the other wrapped around the wrist of the hand cupping her head, keeping her there.

“It’s not stupid,” is all Alex can think to say. It feels like a useless thing to say. So small in the face of this massive thing they still haven’t figured out how to talk about. That night on the island. The Sunken. Time folding in on itself. Dying and living and dying and living again. How do you deal with that? How do you cope? How do you talk about it without going crazy?

“Sometimes you’re the only thing that makes me feel like I can breathe under all of this,” Clarissa says, voice still shaky, eyes still clamped shut tight. “Sometimes I wake up choking on my own screams and all I want to do is call you and make sure you’re still safe.”

More than a few of these calls have woken Alex up, at all hours of the night. And more than that have broken up the long stretches of sleeplessness that have overtaken her nights since their trip to Edwards Island.

Don’t overthink it.

Alex slides her hand from the back of Clarissa’s head to cup the side of her face, uses the pad of her thumb to brush away the tears clustered at the corner of Clarissa’s eye. Watches how her mascara smudges, a long line to her temple that Clarissa will absolutely bitch her out over later.

Don’t overthink it.

Alex can’t think of what to say to that that isn’t even more stupid and useless than before, so she stays quiet. She lets her head dip, just a little, lets her nose brush the tip of Clarissa’s. She waits for her eyes to snap open. For Clarissa to tense and rear back and push Alex away.

She doesn’t.

Carefully, like she’s performing life-saving surgery or disarming a ticking bomb, something delicate and almost impossible and too important to fuck up, Alex leans in. Touches her lips to Clarissa’s, just barely. Then again, with more certainty. Something neither of them will be able to deny tomorrow, when they’re thinking more clearly. 

The first kiss is a question. The second is an offer.

Clarissa’s eyes flutter open and for a moment they just breathe together again.

And then Clarissa leans in, kisses Alex with a recklessness that they’ve both been too scared to let themselves feel for months.

This kiss isn’t a promise. Alex doesn’t think either of them know how to make those right now.

But it feels like it could be an answer to the question. And when Clarissa drapes her arms around Alex’s neck and drags her closer, it feels like acceptance to her offer.

Don’t overthink it.

It’s enough, for now.

dialogue prompts

[peraltasames]

don’t go sharing your devotion

requested by anonymous - 26. A jealous kiss

read on ao3

Amy wakes to the incessant beeping of the alarm clock on the nightstand, programmed to go off a few minutes before the backup ones on her phone.

While leaning over to hit snooze, feeling oddly sleep-deprived, she realizes a few things.

Despite it being Monday, she’s tangled up in blue sheets instead of white ones, meaning she’s violated her rule of always staying at her own apartment on Sunday nights to ensure that she’s well-rested for the beginning of the new week. She recalls being coerced into staying one more night after an incredible weekend (she hasn’t actually gone home at all in three days). She also recalls staying up way too late last night, reinforcing her reason for the Sunday night rule - a rule that Jake despises and attempts to break every week with about a fifty percent success rate.

She does not understand why she’s alone in the blue sheets when the sole reason that she sleeps in a less comfortable bed in a less clean apartment and gets dressed for work out of a duffel bag half the time is so that she doesn’t wake up alone now that she knows there’s something so much better. In a matter of weeks, waking up to messy brown hair, a warm chest pressed against her back and soft snoring in her ear has become a crucial part of her nearly everyday routine, and her days never seem to go quite as well without it.

Amy doesn’t have much time to lay there pouting about the absence of her boyfriend in bed; before she can call out his name and figure out why on earth he’s awake before her, he’s strolling in, wide awake - already dressed, even - with a mug in each hand and a broad grin on his face.

“Happy Tactical Village day!”

Of course, this would be the only logical explanation for Jake being up before seven. Frankly, she’s surprised she didn’t remember sooner. Amy smiles, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Who’s the character this year?”

“Vladimir Smirnov,” Jake says confidently in a terrible Russian accent, “a former spy seeking revenge from the mob boss that killed the woman that turned him over to the light and taught him how to love.”

Amy laughs at the familiarity of it all, leaving the warmth of the bed to stride over to him and wrap her arms loosely around his neck.

“Definitely better than Rex Buckingham. I think Vic Kovac was the sexiest, though.”

Jake’s eyes widen comically, his hands stilling on her waist. “You were into that?”

She kisses his cheek and strolls off to the bathroom before he can ask any more questions about her formerly bottled-up feelings.

-

“So, we’re paired the Seven-Six this year,” Terry says to the squad as they enter the village, reading from a piece of paper.

“Nice, their arrest numbers were crazy last year,” Rosa says approvingly.

Amy looks around the room, which has no discernible differences from last year’s layout. The hostages and perps are getting ready in the corner while most of the other squads begin to prepare for the course.

“Oh my god, Jake Peralta!”

Amy whips her head around at the voice, higher-pitched than her own and unfamiliar. Standing in front of a group of people that she recognizes to be the Seven-Six is an absolutely stunning woman with shiny light brown hair falling just past her shoulders and piercing blue eyes.

“Katherine, it’s been forever,” Jake says with a small laugh, stepping towards her as she pulls him into a tight hug. “I didn’t know you were with the Seven-Six now.”

The woman - Katherine - releases Jake, still holding him at an arm’s length.

“Yeah, it’s awesome other than the cost of living in Manhattan,” Katherine quips. “You’re still with the Nine-Nine?”

Jake finally turns back to the squad for a moment, which has gradually dispersed to the point that only Amy is still looking at him (and Rosa looking at her with what’s she’s sure is a knowing smirk).

“Yeah! These are my coworkers, Detective Diaz and Detective Santiago.”

Amy forces a polite grin, trying not to care that he referred to her as a colleague - it’s a terribly petty thing to care about, something that she never would care about if it weren’t for the beautiful woman still smiling at him.

“Nice to meet you…sorry, what was it?”

“Detective Katherine Porter,” she states confidently, extending a hand to shake Amy’s firmly. “Peralta and I go way back. We were friends in the academy and dated for a few months right after we started as beat cops.”

The haven’t had the exes talk yet, so Amy shouldn’t be surprised. It isn’t like she thought Jake never had girlfriends - she’s met a few since she’s known him, Sophia being the longest relationship she can recall - but never has she felt the ugly emotion rising in her chest right now. There were many times she felt a tinge of jealousy towards Sophia (like, every time he kissed her or held her hand or, to be honest, even mentioned her name) but now she feels a possessive instinct that is both new and entirely unwelcome.

The gears in her brain must be whirring a mile a minute, her face easily giving away her inner thoughts, because Rosa pulls her away under the guise of “looking at some guns” while Jake continues to chat with Katherine.

“Santiago, you are so jealous.”

Amy wants to object immediately, but even if the gun is just a paintball gun, Rosa holding one is a menacing enough sight that she doesn’t dare lie to her.

“I’m - maybe a little - she’s gorgeous-“

“Amy,” Rosa says sternly. “Jake is obsessed with you. You know it, I know it, anyone who steps within ten feet of him knows it. Who cares about some dumb ex he dated ten years ago?”

“I don’t care.” Amy grabs the nearest gun and fires it at one of the targets, landing a perfect bullseye. “Let’s just get ready for the course, alright?”

Much of the next few minutes consist of Amy busying herself with firearms and trying to avoid watching Katherine follow Jake around the village and laugh at everything Jake says and - god, why is she touching his arm so much?

She’s pretty sure Jake is oblivious of any jealousy she may be harbouring, because when Katherine slips away for a moment he turns to grin at Amy. He’s holding up a huge gun and pretending to shoot at nothing in particular and smiling like a little kid at her, not at Katherine. Still, the feeling lingers.

It lingers when they start the drill and she watches him bust into a room and take down three perps in one swift movement, when he pumps his fist victoriously and turns to high-five her, when Katherine re-emerges out of nowhere immediately afterwards to congratulate him on beating the course record again and hug him again.

Amy would be appreciating his fitted navy t-shirt and the confident aura he’s radiating even if it weren’t for the jealous streak she’s experiencing, but the culmination of everything is enough for her to abandon her attempts to be a “chill” girlfriend who isn’t intimidated by gorgeous women her boyfriend has slept with.

“I’m just gonna borrow Jake for a second, if you don’t mind-“ She grabs his hand and tugs him away from a very confused Katherine, ignoring Jake’s raised eyebrows as she pulls him into the nearest empty room and shuts the door.

“Ames, what’s going-“

She grabs him by the material of his t-shirt and kisses him, feeling him stumble backwards in shock until his back hits the wall and his hands find her waist. When she feels his attempts to pull away, she presses herself closer against him and slides her tongue into his mouth, knowing this will incapacitate him for at least another minute or two.

“Amy,” he finally manages to pull away long enough to say, panting slightly. “Are you okay? Someone could walk in.”

She drops her hands from his hair, taking a small step back and shifting her weight awkwardly.

“Is it a crime to kiss my boyfriend after he just set the course record?”

“It is if you’re Amy Santiago and you have a very definite set of rules for workplace PDA.”

She has been enforcing said rules quite regularly when he tries to hold her hand in the break room during their lunch or steal a kiss in the evidence lockup, despite her constant urge to reciprocate.

“Well, maybe I missed you since you’ve been so busy all day-“

The look on his face quickly informs her that she’s given herself away, somewhere between shock and smugness.

“Hold on. Are you...jealous?”

Amy crosses her arms defensively and opens her mouth to bark out a defense, but she can’t find the words to get her out of this one.

“Maybe a little.” Jake starts laughing, and she hits his arm and furrows her brow. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m only human, Jake, obviously I noticed your beautiful ex-girlfriend flirting with you all day.”

He shakes his head apologetically, stepping forward to grab her hands in his. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I just - there’s no threat there, Ames. I dated her over ten years ago.”

She softens a little, squeezing his hands.

“She just seemed so into you, and I didn’t wanna be the crazy jealous girlfriend, but-“

“She asked me to go to dinner before the drill started.”

Amy raises an eyebrow. “Is there a ‘but’ coming?”

“Is there a ‘but’ coming, title of your-”

“Jake,” she cuts him off with a stern look.

He laughs at his own joke as he tangles their fingers together.

“But I told her I’m not interested, that I’m very happily dating someone else, and she backed off. She’s just an old friend, I have no interest in her or anyone else that’s not you, okay?”

He stares at her for a few moments with the same soft, loving look that has made her melt more than once before, until she finally nods and lets out a sigh, running her hand up his bicep.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats, ducking down to kiss her again. “Also, even though it’s crazy to think I would ever wanna date her when I have you, it doesn’t make you crazy. Remember Tactical Village ‘14, when I followed you and Teddy around all day? I was straight-up obsessed.”

Amy lets out a soft laugh, remembering the days of their blossoming feelings with quiet reverence and a small pang of regret that she didn’t grow to understand her feelings earlier.

“I would’ve gone out with you if you had asked first, dummy.”

“Ugh, that’s what Charles said!” He exclaims, pulling his hand away to slap his forehead. “We suck at timing.”

“Speaking of bad timing…I probably shouldn’t have tried to make out with you at a work event,” Amy says, red creeping onto her cheeks.

“You’re right, we should get out of here.”

Her eyes widen incredulously. “Jake! We have to go back to work after this!”

“We also have a lunch break and my car-”

“Absolutely not.”

She tries to walk out, her stride interrupted by a hand gently tugging her arm and spinning her back around, followed by lips pressing against hers.

When she sighs happily, he pulls away to survey her expression.

“Can I take that as a yes?”

“It’s a maybe,” she murmurs teasingly against his lips.

“Does the fact that I cleaned all the candy wrappers out of the backseat sway your vote?”

(It does.)

[superhusbands-superfan]

The Proposal that Wasn’t (and the one that was)

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark | Words: ~6k | Rating: T

Additional Tags: Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Marriage Proposal, Established Relationship, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Inspired by Friends (TV), Tony's robot children

Summary: Steve has A Plan to propose, and it's going to be the perfect, romantic surprise Tony deserves. Things are going exactly according to schedule... until they bump into Tony's ex-girlfriend, Pepper Potts. 

Things go a bit off-book from there. 

Or the Stony adaptation of Chandler and Monica's proposal story — because who doesn't love throwing Friends at the Avengers?

Read it on Ao3.

The Proposal that Wasn’t (and the one that was)

“It’s really great, Steve,” Natasha said, smiling down at the ring and then glancing at Steve. “Tony’s going to love it.”

“Really? You think so?”

Nat stood on her tiptoes to kiss Steve’s cheek and then squeezed his shoulder affectionately.

“I know so,” Nat said with a sharp, definitive nod. “When are you going to ask him?”

“I’m thinking tonight at the benefit I’ll convince him to sneak off with me for a minute alone. The event’s at the same place where we had our first kiss, so I know there’s a private balcony Tony can get us access to. And it shouldn’t be too hard to get him to agree for nostalgia’s sake.” Steve smiled at the memory and then grimaced a little when he realized he was definitely wearing his dopey, lovestruck smile. “Is that horribly cheesy?”

Nat shrugged with one shoulder. “Maybe a tiny bit,” she admitted, smirking. “For me? Absolutely. For Tony? It’s exactly the kind of cheesy romance Tony not-so-subtly lives for. It’s why you’re so perfect together.”

Steve smiled. “You think he’ll say yes?”

“I’d bet my life on it.”

Coming from Natasha, that was all but a guarantee.

-

They were on the dance floor when Steve finally worked up the courage to suggest they slip off to somewhere more private. Steve was sure Tony would take the suggestion to be sexual in nature, but he could work with that. And hey, if there ended up being a post-proposal sexual encounter, well… it wasn’t like Steve was going to have a problem with that.

Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time they… repurposed, for lack of a better word, these dragged-out black-tie events for something more exciting.

That said, it was also almost eleven fifteen. That was a perfectly respectable time to call it a night if they wanted to head home.

“Is it horrible that I’ve completely forgotten what this event is for?” Tony asked, his voice pitched low and his mouth near Steve’s ear as they continued to dance in small circles to the rhythm of the classical music being played.

Steve laughed a little and shook his head. “No, that’s what you have me for. We’ve made a sizable donation to the charity in the spotlight this evening. So there’s nothing to worry about.”

“My hero,” Tony said, meeting Steve’s gaze with a soft, flirty smile and love in his eyes.

This was the right moment, the right night. Steve could feel it.

Steve cut their dance short and grabbed Tony’s hand in his to pull him away from the dance floor and toward a quiet corner. “What would you say if I suggested — ”

“Tony?” a voice called from somewhere over Tony’s shoulder.

Seconds later, the one and only Pepper Potts emerged, smiling and looking as flawless as ever in a brilliant green dress that complemented but didn’t clash with her red hair, which fell down her back tonight in loose curls. The dress had lace on top and across the off-the-shoulder cap sleeves, but the skirt was simple silk and fell elegantly to where it almost brushed the floor.

Tony turned to greet her with a bit of tension in his shoulders, but no hint of annoyance or genuine discomfort. At least, not anything that Steve could detect — and after more than a year of dating, Steve considered himself fairly adept at reading Tony.

“Pepper?” It was almost more statement and greeting than question, but not quite.

“I thought that was you two,” she said, smiling at Steve as she moved to hug Tony hello. Tony reciprocated easily and then stepped away.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asked after Pepper had also given Steve a quick hug.

It was a fair enough question, Steve thought. They generally divided and conquered at these sorts of things. Pepper would attend some in her capacity as CEO and Tony and Steve would attend others as the still-incredibly-public faces of Stark Industries and the Avengers. Usually, they divided the events by location. Pepper was living in L.A. so she took the west half of the country, and Tony and Steve covered the East coast. International events were a toss-up and were typically decided based on availability and proximity to wherever the Avengers last averted world-ending disasters.

In short, it was rare that the three of them ended up at an event together.

It wasn’t that they avoided each other, really — the three of them got along just fine — but the media tended to make Steve and Pepper’s every interaction out to be part of a jilted lover saga and none of them needed or wanted that sort of press. When they spent time together, it was generally in the safety of their respective homes.

“To keep a long story short, the host of the evening is a close friend from college. She specifically asked me to show up tonight and I had a last-minute cancellation that made it possible for me to fly out.”

“And here you are,” Tony said easily. “Looking stunning, as always.”

Steve wasn’t going to be jealous about that, he decided resolutely. Tony had told countless people how great they looked tonight; it was practically protocol at these events, like chatting about the weather and complaining about uncomfortable footwear.

Besides, Steve’s evening had started with Tony describing in detail the things he wanted to do to Steve when he saw him in his tux.

“Thank you, Tony,” Pepper said, a faint pink blush on her cheeks. “You’re sweet. And you both look great as well.”

It was kind of her to say, but her eyes were on Tony the entire time. Steve couldn’t exactly blame her — it’s where his eyes had been all night, too — but he wasn’t necessarily thrilled about what a look like that might mean. He was probably reading into it far too much.

“Thanks, Pep,” Tony said. “How’ve you been lately? I’ve received surprisingly few phone calls berating me for missing one thing or another, I was starting to worry.”

Steve caught just the slightest hint of an embarrassed flush across Pepper’s cheeks.

“Yes, well you’ve been surprisingly mindful of your commitments and almost startlingly punctual recently, so there hasn’t been much of a need for my nagging,” Pepper said, voice full of good-natured humor. “I suppose that’s your doing, Steve?”

“Me?” Steve asked, incredulous. “I doubt it. I certainly can’t get him to do anything he doesn’t want to.”

“I guess your responsibility is just rubbing off on me, then,” Tony teased, grinning up at Steve.

Steve smiled back at him, but he glanced at Pepper in time to catch a look of hurt flash across her features. It was gone before Tony would notice, Steve noted, but it had definitely been there.

Now Steve was getting a little worried.

He knew plenty about Tony and Pepper’s failed relationship and enduring friendship. He appreciated Pepper’s place in Tony’s life even if he didn’t always understand it, exactly. They’d split on amicable, if awkward terms.

According to Tony, he’d ‘always been more interested in talking about future plans’ than Pepper had been, and he’d always been certain that he wanted to keep the option of having a family on the table. Tony had also emphasized that his being Iron Man had been a major part of why their relationship broke down.

Tony had been heartbroken and hurt, but he’d healed. He and Pepper were still friends and colleagues. Tony had found Steve. He’d fallen in love with Steve just as much as Steve had fallen in love with Tony. Things were good between them.

They were good, Steve knew that. He did. He and Tony had talked about what they wanted in their lives many times. Lately, they talked about their future as a definite, shared entity. It was why Steve wanted to propose.

So why the hell couldn’t he shut down the voice in the back of his head whispering that maybe, just maybe, he’d become an easily-forgotten ex if Pepper happened to have decided that she wanted the same things as Tony?

It was ridiculous. Steve knew Tony would never do that.

“How fortunate,” Pepper said, drawing Steve out of his spiraling thoughts with her easy teasing. “Have you two enjoyed the evening?”

Steve nodded agreeably, but for the most part, he let Tony field the question. He distantly heard Tony praising the food and decor, but his focus had drifted to the ring tucked into his jacket pocket that now seemed unnecessary.

The moment had slipped away. It was more than a little disappointing, but it couldn’t be helped. Steve wasn’t about to cut the evening short now that Tony had a chance to catch up with Pepper, especially considering the wide, genuine smile he was wearing.

Steve could be a good sport about it. Pepper had no idea she’d interrupted an almost-moment, after all, and Tony didn’t have a clue that this night was meant to be anything more than another dull black-tie affair.

“Steve?” Tony sounded worried. Steve snapped to attention, eyes on Tony’s face even as he relaxed and forced a smile. “You okay?”

“Yes, sorry I got a little lost in my head,” Steve said, happy he was at least telling the truth on that front. “I’m a little warm, actually. I might step out and get some air, if you’ll both excuse me.” Also true, and not a half-bad excuse; Steve was always hot and regularly ducked out of stuffy places full of people for a breath of fresh air.

Tony knew that, but he still narrowed his eyes at Steve skeptically, clearly not buying it. Before he could say anything though, Pepper cut in.

“I bet we could squeeze in a quick dance before the band packs up for the night,” she suggested with a friendly smile. “If you wanted, Tony?”

“Oh uh, sure,” Tony nodded, still looking at Steve for signs of distress.

“Great idea,” Steve said, firmly ignoring that a part of him he didn’t want to examine too closely that thought that was absolutely the opposite of what might reasonably be considered a great idea.

He managed a quick smile and then made a break for the nearest balcony. When he made it outside, he pulled out his phone and navigated to the secret group chat he’d requested JARVIS keep carefully hidden whenever Tony was in the room.

He had 27 unread messages from their friends, a pointless engagement ring in his pocket, and what felt like a massive headache forming.

SGR: Proposal’s on hold for now. Will explain later.

His phone rang approximately thirty seconds later.

“Hey,” Steve said, finally letting his disappointment and general frustration seep into his voice.

“Hey man,” Sam said, sounding sympathetic already without even know what happened. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing bad, really. Honest. We just ran into Pepper and — ”

“Tony’s ex, Pepper?”

“How many Peppers do you know?”

Sam snorted a little. “Good point. Why’s that getting in the way of your proposal though?”

Steve shrugged even though he knew Sam couldn’t see him. “I can’t explain it really, but there was a moment — the moment — but then we were interrupted and now…” Steve glanced behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows and spotted them on the dance floor, easily picking out Pepper’s green evening gown. “Well, now he’s dancing with Pepper.”

“What?!”

“No, nothing like what you’re thinking. It’s just friendly. But it’s…” Steve didn’t really know what else to say.

“Yeah,” Sam said after a minute. He was using that unfairly sympathetic tone he used sometimes that always managed to convince anyone who heard it that he fully understood whatever you were going through, no matter how bizarrely specific of a situation it happened to be. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

Steve sighed. “A little bit, but I’ll survive. Just didn’t want to keep you all waiting on big news that wasn’t coming.”

“What a shame, we’ll have to hide all the champagne for a little while longer.”

Steve’s mouth twitched up in a smile.

“Hopefully not much longer, though,” Sam said. It was a nudge if Steve had ever heard one.

“Definitely not.”

“Okay, good. We’ll see you tomorrow then. We’re all going to bed now.”

Steve laughed. Eleven thirty at night and half the team was going to bed, Steve was mourning his failed proposal, and Tony was dancing with his ex-girlfriend. “We’re getting too old for this shit.”

“Honestly,” Sam said. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night, Sam.”

-

Steve should have known things wouldn’t quite be that simple. They made it back to the Tower without trouble, Tony regaling Steve the whole time with a story Pepper had told him — Steve was trying hard not to be bitter about that because it wasn’t Pepper’s fault, damn it — about a recent SI investor who’d turned out to be horribly sexist, and whom Pepper had swiftly and humorously dealt with.

Unfortunately, when the doors of the elevator opened to the communal Avengers floor, Clint was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his crossbow entirely deconstructed in front of him.

It was close to two in the morning — Pepper and Tony had talked for a while — and based on all available intel, Steve realized a few things at once.

One, Clint only ever took apart his bow when he wanted to deep-clean and polish it and he only ever wanted to do that after he’d spent hours using it on a mission or at the Tower range. Two, Clint never used or checked his phone when he was shooting — the whole point of range practice was to get out of his own head and his phone had the exact opposite effect. Steve understood that, but just today, he also resented it. Because it meant Steve was about ninety percent sure Clint hadn’t heard the news that he’d called off his Propose to Tony mission.

The way Clint perked up as they shuffled out of the elevator only served to prove Steve’s theory.

“Hey lovebirds,” Clint said, looking at Tony. “What did you think of the — ?”

“The benefit was great,” Steve said quickly, his voice too loud and rushed to be considered casual.

“Right,” Clint said, his forehead creased in confusion as he stared at Steve. “But you were going to ask Tony to — ”

“I was,” Steve said, cutting Clint off sharply in a tone of voice he typically reserved for missions. “But I haven’t gotten to it quite yet.”

“Uh,” Tony looked from Clint — who suddenly found his scattered bow parts utterly fascinating and all-consuming of his attention — to Steve. “What’s going on?”

Steve squeezed the bridge of his nose and prayed for a miracle.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Steve said, trying to infuse his voice with the natural softness that typically came to him whenever he addressed Tony. It was more difficult than it should be, but then he had been dealt a few more disappointments today than usual. “Just a little miscommunication, that’s all.”

“Sure… but about what?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, especially this late,” Steve said, placing his hand at the small of Tony’s back and trying to guide him gently toward their room. “I’ll explain in the morning.”

This was a problem for future-Steve, he decided. The headache he’d felt coming on earlier had arrived in full-force and Steve was just… well, sad. Sleep sounded good.

Tony went with him to their room, calling “Night, Clint!” over his shoulder for the both of them, but he was watching Steve wearily the whole time. It continued even as they silently got ready for bed and when they crawled under the covers together, curled into one another, same as always.

Steve knew he was being unreasonably unfair to Tony, who had absolutely no idea what had caused Steve’s sudden 180-degree mood swing, but he also couldn’t fully reign in his emotions.

“I love you,” Tony said. He sounded so… tentative. Like he wasn’t sure how his words would be received and that was just entirely unacceptable, no matter how Steve felt about the direction the evening had gone.

“I love you too, Tony,” Steve said, trying to infuse as much certainty and love into the words as he could. He pulled Tony close so his spine was pressed tight to Steve’s chest. Tony relaxed almost immediately and Steve cursed himself for being stupid enough to allow Tony to doubt anything about their relationship, even for a second. “Very, very much.”

Tony sighed pleasantly and mumbled, “G’night, Steve.”

“Night, Tony,” Steve whispered. “Sweet dreams.”

-

In the morning, Steve’s head was clearer, but Tony’s questions were also more pointed.

“So…” he said, broaching the subject before they’d even gotten out of bed. “Do you want to tell me what Clint was talking about last night?”

“Hm?” Steve asked, pretending to be absorbed in something on his phone that he actually couldn’t care less about.

“He said you were going to ask me something,” Tony said, his voice a little bit sharper now in an effort to command Steve’s full attention. It worked. Steve put his phone on the nightstand. “And you uh. Well, you freaked a little. So?”

Yeah, Steve should have spent less time sleeping and more time working out his cover story for that nightmare of an interaction. Hindsight.

“I told you, it’s really nothing — ”

“Steve.”

“Alright, fine,” Steve sighed. He scrambled for a minute, remembered Natasha’s advice that the best lies were always grounded in a little bit of the truth, and decided to run with his first instinct no matter how stupid it may be. “I’d been planning to talk to you last night. To um, well, I guess I just wanted to ask you… how do you feel about marriage?”

Tony’s eyes widened and there were too many emotions in them for Steve to attempt to decode first thing in the morning, even if it was already ten.

“How I feel about marriage as in…?” Tony made a vague gesture between the two of them.

“No, no, nothing that serious,” Steve shook his head quickly, hoping that he was doing a good impression of someone who definitely hadn’t dreamed about calling Tony his fiancée on numerous and increasingly sappy occasions. “Marriage as an institution. The concept of it.”

Tony’s expression slipped from cautiously surprised and maybe pleased to suspicious in an instant.

“And you talked to Clint about this conversation you wanted to have?”

Yeah, that was a glaring flaw in his plan. He confided in each of his teammates in different ways, but no one ever really consulted Clint for relationship advice. Steve snorted.

“It came up in a way that would be very difficult to try to explain, but yes,” Steve said. He was aiming for it to sound like an awkward admission, and he thought he was at least close. “Against my better judgment,” he added for good measure.

“Right…” Tony sighed. “Well. I feel like I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here, if I’m honest. Lobbing a question at me about the institution of marriage without any idea how you feel about it all?”

It was a probing question if Steve had ever heard one, but he decided not to answer.

“But all right, fine,” Tony said finally. “I guess… I’m generally in favor of marriage? I mean, what’s not to like, right?”

“Well, high divorce rate, all the business with joint finances…” Steve trailed off, already out of potential drawbacks.

Tony’s face fell a little, shifting from confused by the direction of the conversation to disappointed and Steve hated himself just a little bit more.

“Oh, so. You’re… not a proponent of marriage, then?”

“I’m not necessarily opposed,” Steve hedged. “I just read this article about how same-sex couples getting married could be playing into our largely heteronormative culture in society — the idea that being married is what makes a family, for example — and I got to thinking.”

It was all true. He’d read the article in question and thought about it. It was interesting, no doubt. Food for thought and something to keep in mind. But even after he’d finished the piece, he’d still overwhelmingly wanted to be Tony’s husband and have Tony be his as well. It was probably old-fashioned and meant they’d be conforming, but he wanted it nonetheless.

“Fair enough,” Tony said with a small shrug. “It’s not for everyone, I guess. It’s an excuse to get all your friends and family together, though. Celebrate the importance of your relationship.”

“True.”

“Is it… Is it something you’ve ever thought about for us?”

“Sure.” Steve shrugged as nonchalantly as he was able. “In the abstract, maybe.” No stretch of the imagination could make that true. There was nothing abstract about mentally drafting wedding vows. “You?”

“About the same,” Tony mumbled, staring down at the sheets he was twisting in his hands. God this was miserable. What the fuck was he doing?

Mercifully, Tony’s phone rang. He answered, seeming as grateful for the interruption as Steve was. It was a short conversation, but when it ended Tony was headed straight for the shower, apologizing for having to cut their conversation short.

Steve rolled over and smashed his head into the pillow to silence his frustrated groan.

-

Tony wasn’t sure he’d ever been more grateful to be called into the office for a weekend manufacturing emergency. Anything to bail out of that conversation which, in all honesty, had been breaking his heart a little.

He’d just… he’d really thought they were on the same page. Tony did want to get married, and whatever he told Steve, he’d absolutely thought about it in more than abstract terms.

He tried to put it out of his mind and fend off phone call after phone call from one of their overseas plants.

When the storm had mostly passed, Tony busied himself by fiddling with the specs for a new prototype he was toying with the idea for. If he was honest with himself, he was stalling.

“Oh, you’re still here,” Pepper said, peeking into the office Tony rarely ever used. She sounded a little breathless. “I expected you’d have gone home already.”

Tony looked at her and could pick out the signs of tiredness and frustration, same as always. She’d been dealing with the crisis this morning in her own ways, too.

“Not yet, no,” he said. He knew she’d sense that something was off and Pepper didn’t disappoint.

“Is something wrong?”

Tony shrugged.

“What’s going on?”

“Just a weird conversation with Steve this morning. It’s throwing me off, I guess.”

Pepper nodded thoughtfully. “Did you ever figure out why he was acting strange last night?”

“He said it was nothing. Had a headache, I guess. But…”

“But you’re worried?”

“I was under the impression we were on the same page. But it’s starting to look like I was mistaken.”

“On what front?” Pepper asked, before seeming to remember herself. “If you want to talk about it, that is.”

“Marriage. And who knows what else, honestly.”

Pepper frowned, her expression soft and understanding. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

“You should know where he’s coming from,” Tony said, trying for teasing but mostly sounding tired and sad. “You weren’t exactly gunning for the chance to marry me.”

Pepper didn’t say anything for a long pause. She looked conflicted, like she wasn’t sure whether to say anything in response to that.

“I think about that a lot, you know. About how I never really wanted to talk about our future together or make things more serious. It was a mistake, Tony. And if you give Steve the chance, I’m sure he’ll realize the same thing.”

Tony blinked at Pepper in confusion. He sort of felt like he was missing something. “What?”

“Anyone would be lucky to call you their husband, Tony. I wish I’d realized that sooner. And if Steve really can’t see that, well. Maybe he isn’t the person you’re meant to marry.”

Yeah, okay so Tony couldn’t have asked her to make that plainer. But he also wasn’t really sure what to say when his ex — a woman he’d been head-over-heels in love with for years and had, at one point, wanted to marry — told him that she’d been wrong about him. Said that anyone would be lucky to call him their husband.

It felt good, sure, but it felt just as wrong if not more so because he didn’t want Pepper to be the one saying it. Not anymore.

“Maybe,” Tony said, though the word tasted bitter and all just plain false. “I don’t know. But thanks, Pep. For talking with me, and uh.” He shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase any of the rest of it, but he thought Pepper would understand.

She smiled her soft, genuine smile and nodded a little. She stood up and was almost out the door when she turned back and said, “I hope you two work it out. I like Steve. You guys are great together.”

Tony sighed as she pulled the door to his office closed and decided it was probably about time he went home.

-

Steve wasn’t there when he arrived, and Tony supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. No matter how long they were together, every time they fought their first instinct was to avoid each other. Tony didn’t even really consider this a fight, but he’d avoided Steve so it only made sense that Steve was also avoiding him.

What he hadn’t expected was Clint being in the shared Avengers kitchen. He was in almost the same position as last night, except he was sitting at the counter with his bow spread out in pieces across the countertop instead of on the ground.

Tony was surprised to find that he was frustrated with Clint because of last night, no matter how unfair that was.

“Hey Tony,” Clint said, still focused on putting together a portion of the bow. Looking closer, Tony realized this wasn’t the same bow from last night. It was a different, older model.

“Hey,” Tony said, grimacing at the sharp tone he couldn’t manage to keep out of his voice. “Have you seen Rhodey? Or Natasha?”

Tony had enough of a handle on his emotions these days to know when it was important to turn to his friends for help.

“Uh, no. Not lately.” Clint looked at Tony now that he’d caught onto his mood, and his expression shifted from one of intense focus to concern. “Why? What’s the matter?”

Tony opened the fridge and pulled out a container of raspberries. Might as well stress-eat snacks if he had to have this conversation.

“Steve and I finally talked about what you were asking about last night, and we… well let’s just say we don’t exactly have the same mindset.”

Clint’s eyes went wide and his hands stilled. “You don’t — not the same mindset? What?”

“Yeah, I know. Shocking. Tony Stark playboy-bachelor-extraordinaire turned guy-who-just-wants-to-settle-down. I just can’t figure out how I’ve been reading things wrong this whole time.”

“Reading things wrong how, exactly?” Clint was choosing his words carefully, his tone reserved and measured as he stared at Tony through narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know, I just thought marriage was something we were both excited about. Not, you know, like right now. But at some point. I didn’t realize how ambivalent Steve was toward the idea.”

Clint stared at him in complete silence.

“Have you lost your mind?” Natasha said, entering the room and the conversation simultaneously. “I could not possibly have heard you say that.”

Tony turned to her. “Right? See, this is what I mean. Didn’t Steve seem like the marrying type to you?”

Nat shot a look at Clint who raised his hands in a way that clearly said ‘don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this.’ She rolled her eyes.

“Yes, he’s absolutely the marrying type. God, you’re both idiots.” She sighed loudly, her eyes falling closed as she allowed herself a moment to decide what to say next. “What has Steve done now?” she demanded, finally.

So Tony explained. He talked about the sense of wrongness last night at the benefit, the way Steve had cut Clint off in the kitchen and gotten all twitchy — at which point Natasha glared at Clint and said, “I thought you said this wasn’t your doing” — and his disheartening conversation with Steve that morning. He even mentioned his chat with Pepper, against his better judgment.  

By the end, Nat was rubbing her temples like she needed assistance from a higher power to fend off the mother of all headaches. Clint was just sitting there looking vaguely uncomfortable, and Tony couldn’t really blame him. Clint looked at Nat for help, but she only shook her head and then waved him out of the kitchen. He fled, leaving the deconstructed bow behind.

Nat looked at Tony again. Her expression was a unique mix of frustration, concern, and fondness. Tony didn’t know what to make of that.

“Nearly everything you’ve just said is the result of a frankly incredible culmination of several misunderstandings,” she said after a contemplative pause. “Except for what Pepper told you. Anyone would be lucky to call you their husband; she was entirely right about that. And Steve would probably die a little inside if he knew that Pepper was the person to tell you that first instead of him. So, please, let me clarify a few things…”

-

“Welcome home, Captain Dumbass,” Natasha said by way of greeting when Steve got off the tower elevator a couple of hours later.

Steve winced. “I take it you’ve talked to Tony?”

“You could say that. How exactly did you manage to fuck this up so spectacularly?”

“I’ve been asking myself that all day. I’m an idiot. And I really need to talk to him. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s holed up in the workshop, I think. I mean, he knows you, Steve. He’s pretty positive you want to get married someday, so he’s just thinking you don’t want to marry him.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, basically. I tried to explain, but he didn’t really want to hear it from me. Would you please go talk to him?”

“Yes. Yeah, of course. I’m going.”

Steve took off for the stairs, taking them two at a time when he reached them. In his hurry to get down to Tony, he completely missed Natasha’s small, mischievous smirk.

-

Tony was wearing a welding mask and holding a blowtorch when Steve got to him. He was working on something Steve couldn’t see.

That wasn’t the most confusing part of the scene in front of him. Oddly enough, in the main clearing of the workshop, Tony had clearly called the bots into action.

Dum-E was holding a bottle of champagne by its neck and had a print-off image of a bouquet of flowers taped to his metal arm.

U was on camera duty as usual, but Tony didn’t seem to be testing a new type of suit so Steve really didn’t understand the need for a camera. Especially considering JARVIS could just film everything anyway, and usually Tony only asked U to film so the other bot wouldn’t feel left out of the Important Stuff.

“Tony?” Steve called over the quiet roar of the blowtorch.

Tony jumped up, turned off the blowtorch, and pulled his mask off. He turned to Steve with a wide smile.

“Hey!” His smile faltered a little and he looked frustrated for a second. “JARVIS, what the hell happened to my warning?”

“I delivered it, sir. Several times. I believe you opted to ignore me.”

Tony rolled his eyes and walked over to Steve and the bots.

“Nat said you were upset…” Steve said, clearly confused beyond belief. Tony was, well, the opposite of upset. He looked happy, excited even. Maybe a touch nervous? But otherwise, fine.

“Nope, not anymore.” Tony was wearing a black wife beater that allowed the blue glow of the arc reactor to shine through just a little, and a pair of work pants he only ever wore when he was in the shop. He patted at his right pocket for a minute until he found whatever he was looking for. Steve didn’t realize it was a ring box until well after Tony said, “Natasha said it was important to you that this was a surprise, so I thought I could manage that,” and got down on one knee.

Steve was speechless. He’d just been hit with a wave of emotion so strong that he didn’t think he could form words if his life depended on it. He’d come down here to explain and beg for Tony’s forgiveness and now. Well.

“Steve, I never thought I would be lucky enough to fall in love with my best friend. I mean — don’t get me wrong, I knew when I met you that I was going to fall for you. But I never could have predicted how much you mean to me.

“You’re more than just the love of my life. More than just my best friend. You’re my partner, in every sense of the word. My other half. I’m not half as good at anything as I am when I’m doing it next to you. And I would really love to marry you, if you’ll have me. So.” Tony opened the box to reveal that he did, in fact, have a ring. “What do you say?”

Steve let out a small, wet-sounding laugh as he nodded aggressively and reached out to pull Tony back to his feet. Tony let himself be manhandled into a forceful kiss that he melted into immediately. “Yes,” Steve said, the words hot against Tony’s mouth, just to be certain there were no more miscommunications.

After a minute or so, Steve pulled back with a wide smile. Tony returned the smile in force.

“So Nat lied, then?” Steve asked, teasing.

“Same way you did,” Tony shot back just as playful.

Steve’s expression turned serious. “I’m sorry about all of that. I was being stupid. I thought that it mattered what I said or where I said it, but that’s not what’s most important.

“The only thing that matters is that you know that you make me happier than I ever dreamed I could be. When I woke up seventy years in the future, I never even let myself hope that I’d find what we have. You gave me a place to call home and a family — people that make it a home — without even really trying. You’re everything to me. And if you’ll let me, I’ll gladly spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me.”

They both had tears in their eyes all over again. Steve pulled his own ring out of his pocket and held it out for Tony to see. It wasn’t in a box because, well, boxes weren’t exactly easy to hide when you were aiming for the surprise factor.

“I think I can live with that,” Tony said, his voice a little shaky. He took the ring from Steve’s hands and slipped it on his finger. They both smiled when it was a perfect fit, and Tony kissed Steve again.

“I think your ring is on the floor,” Tony said when they parted. “Your fault.”

“Yep, that one’s on me.” Steve was pretty sure he’d knocked the box out of his hands in his desperation to kiss Tony after the proposal. He glanced around them and remembered Dum-E and U. “I guess I don’t have to ask what the bots are doing now, do I?”

“Nope,” Tony said, delighted. “They had to be part of the big surprise. Dum-E, I’ll take the champagne now.” The robot whirred toward them and relinquished the bottle to Tony, the paper flowers taped to his arm swaying slightly. “The flowers were JARVIS’ idea, by the way.”

“Captain Rogers, I feel obliged to inform you that I suggested Master Stark order a bouquet of flowers from the store. Not make use of the printer he uses so infrequently he forgot it existed.”

Steve laughed. Tony patted Dum-E’s claw affectionately before he popped open the champagne with practiced ease.

“It’s perfect.” Steve noticed Dum-E preening under the praise. “And thanks, U, for dutifully recording it all for us.”

The other bot made an excited sound, and Tony smiled fondly as he handed Steve a glass. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, Tony.”

“J, you can send the others down if you want.”

JARVIS did, and a minute or two later Steve and Tony were engulfed in a huge group hug to celebrate their newly-engaged status.