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“I dare you to kiss Tony,” Natasha tossed out over her morning cereal.
Steve glared across the room at her. “Are you kidding me? What are you, ten?”
“No.” She shot him a wide smile full of predatory teeth. “I’m a grown woman and I know what I like.”
Clint laughed from the kitchen, and Steve shot him a look too. “That’s not what the game was supposed to be about.”
She shrugged. “Back out then.”
Steve grumbled down at his sketchbook, huffing at the page in frustration then slamming it shut. Of course, who else took that moment to amble in but Tony himself. “Morning, Chickies, who made me breakfast?” Tony sniffed around the kitchen, peering over Clint’s shoulder and getting a spatula smack across the back of his hand. “Ow. We have a rule about hitting. Don’t we have a rule about hitting?”
“No hitting,” Steve said automatically, then blushed, realizing he’d drawn the attention back to himself. Tony managed to sneak past the spatula security system and snag a piece of bacon. He darted out of the way of retaliation and leaned against the counter.
“Nat threw down,” Clint said casually, and Tony’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oooo,” he cooed around his bacon. “Who has to do what?”
Bruce, Nat, and Clint all turned to look at Steve. He sunk down low into the couch cushions.
Tony grinned. “A good one then.”
“I think so,” Nat said with a wide-eyed, innocent smile.
That was enough to tip Tony off, and his forehead creased as he narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “I don’t think I love that tone of voice.”
Nat spooned the last of her cereal into her mouth and went to pour another bowl. “You can thank me later, Stark.”
Steve squeezed his sketchbook between his hands, watching their banter with stomach-twisting anticipation. The Dare Game had started out small but ramped up over the years with the punishments for refusing dares getting more difficult and more convoluted as time went on. This was the first time one of them had targeted Steve’s love life though. He wondered if Nat really did just want to see them kiss, or if after five years of never seeing Steve with a date she had decided to start challenging him to kiss every hot guy they came across. At least she knew he was into guys - this would be an awkward way to have that conversation. Of course, it was going to be deeply awkward anyway.
Tony’s eyes flicked up, over the back of the couch and met Steve’s. He raised one eyebrow slightly, a question. Steve frowned. “She dared me to kiss you.”
Tony’s mouth dropped open. He gaped for a moment, then broke into laughter. Steve watched his hand come up to his chest, hovering over where the arc reactor used to be, then fall again. “Seriously? This is Susan Temple’s eighth-grade birthday party all over again.”
Steve held Tony’s gaze. “I can forfeit.”
“And what? Is it quinjet cleaning duty? Or that thing with the Facebook photo you have to do now? I don’t fucking think so. I’m a confident, secure, comfortable person. I can handle a kiss from Captain America. Come here, gorgeous, lay it on me.”
But for all of Tony’s bluster, Steve could see the nerves there. The way his eyes flicked away, the way his hand kept jerking towards his chest, it all betrayed his discomfort and the last thing Steve wanted to do was push him. On the flip side, if he staunchly refused to, that would bring attention to it too. The team would pester him, mocking, wanting to know why he couldn’t just give Tony a kiss. He’d kissed Nat and Clint for missions before without any fuss, they all knew he was gay, and he and Tony were best friends. There was no reason not to.
Except for the really big reason not to.
Steve set his sketchbook down and walked around the couch to stand next to the kitchen table. Tony shifted where he stood, rocking from foot to foot. Steve could feel the blush heating his cheeks already, and he willed it to recede. He shot a glance at Natasha, and she had her phone out, held aloft, the camera pointed towards him. He glared, but she just grinned back. Knowing Natasha, she had decided long ago that Steve was hopelessly in love with Tony, pinning his life away, and she thought she was doing him a favour.
“A good kiss, not just a peck,” she clarified.
“You just said kiss,” Steve protested. “You can’t change it now.”
“What you are currently contemplating doing is not a kiss, Steve Rogers. I’m just making sure you know what I mean when I say kiss.” Her eyes twinkled.
“Fine,” Steve growled out. He took the last few steps to stand in front of Tony, who reeled back a little in the face of what Steve was sure was not a very welcoming expression. He took a breath and tried to relax. “You okay?” he asked, low enough that only Tony could hear.
Tony gave a short, half nod, but his breath was coming faster now. His eyes flicked down to Steve’s mouth and his own lips parted. Steve’s blood was boiling in his veins, coursing through him and bringing adrenaline with it. He leaned in, drawn towards the short, sharp breaths that were falling from Tony’s lips.
He hooked one arm around the small of Tony’s back, drew him in, up against his chest, and pressed their lips together. Despite seeing Steve move in, Tony still gave a small yip of surprise, and then his lips parted under Steve’s, his hands came to Steve’s arms, and he melted into the kiss. Steve shifted, finding the perfect angle to lock their lips together. Tony was warm and yielding in his arms. His tongue came out of his own accord to brush against the inside of Tony’s lower lip and caught a hint salty bacon. He pushed the kiss deeper and a small noise of want leaked out of Tony’s throat. The sound broke whatever spell they were caught in, and Steve stepped back, releasing Tony hurriedly and clearing his throat.
His cheeks were burning and writhing discomfort had settled low in his stomach. He looked up and saw Clint, Bruce, and Nat a tableau of frozen statues around the table, eyes wide with surprise. Bruce set his coffee mug down, coughed once, his eyes flickering from Steve’s flushed face to Tony’s pink, thoroughly kissed lips. “Well. That was hot.”
**
Steve hit the punching bag with one final thump and sent it flying off its hook, across the room. He’d escaped down here the second he could, only pausing to grab his sketchbook as he launched himself out of the kitchen before anyone could ask him why one little kiss had flustered him so much.
He sighed, rolling out his shoulders, wondering if he’d made the right choice, if he should have said no. It was supposed to be a game, a silly game, but this wasn’t a game to him. This meant something.
He dragged the punching bag back into the supply closet and unwrapped his hands. Tony had probably extricated himself from the team and was back upstairs by now. He should go talk to him.
The elevator ride was long and slow, and Steve was a mess of nerves by the time he reached the top. They pinged open, and he stepped out. “Tony?”
“In here,” Tony’s voice called.
He turned the corner and found Tony curled up on a corner of the living room couch, clutching a coffee mug, staring out at the cityscape.
“I’m sorry,” Steve said.
Tony laughed. “It was kind of perfect though, wasn’t it? I mean we made this huge deal about it and then the clueless-for-once superspy had to go and ruin it.” Tony’s hand went to his chest again, and Steve copied the motion, feeling the chain under his own shirt, the band of metal that hung heavy and unfamiliar against his skin.
He leaned over the back of the couch, folding his arms and resting his chin on them. “I wanted our first kiss as husbands to be special.”
“I know, darling.” Tony grinned at him. “I’m sorry I got called away from the courthouse and ruined our dinner plans. And our after plans.” He waggled his eyebrows. “But I didn’t exactly have an excuse I could use.”
“It’s alright.” Steve reached out and brushed his thumb across Tony’s bottom lip, smiling when Tony shuddered under the attention. “We knew that kind of thing would happen when we decided to keep this a secret. I just missed you last night, is all. I thought you’d get home before breakfast, and we could sneak out and enjoy a little honeymoon, even if only for a few hours.”
“Well.” Tony rose up on his knees. He pulled his shirt over his head, and Steve’s eyes fell to the simple gold band that hung from a long chain, resting right over the centre of his arc reactor scars. “I have a few hours now, husband.”
Steve grinned. “Me too.” He reached over the couch and hauled Tony into his arms, beginning an ungainly stumble to the bedroom while they shared their
second
perfect kiss as a married couple.