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“You know what kind of place this is, right?” Clint asked.
Steve paused in writing out the details of the plan on the whiteboard. “Yes, Clint, I’m aware Swingin’ Richards is a strip club.”
“So you’re suggesting that we should, in fact, infiltrate this club to stop Crossbones from doing whatever you think he’s doing.” Clint narrowed his eyes. “Have you ever even been to a strip club, Cap?”
“I know what strip clubs are, Hawkeye. Now let’s talk mission.”
“As much as you all would love to see it, I can’t be the stripper,” Tony announced. He tapped the arc reactor. “Anyone who saw this would know who I am.”
Steve nearly broke the marker clutched in his hand at the thought of Tony, clad only in a red and gold thong and a dazzling smile, swinging sensuously around a pole and leaning over to whisper in Steve’s ear, “Like what you see, Cap?” Steve awkwardly pulled back the high neck on his uniform to cool his suddenly heated skin.
Pulling it together, Steve corrected, “No one is going to be a stripper. We’re going in as customers.” This was not going at all well. It was a simple mission -- the team infiltrates a business fronting for illegal activities, get leads, and swoops in and arrests Crossbones and his HYDRA goons. “And Natasha is the fill-in bartender.”
“Wait, do I get to go on this mission?” Sam asked.
“Sounds like it,” Scott agreed. “Hmm, I know this place — I set up their computer systems a couple of years ago.”
“Of course you have,” Clint muttered. “You seem to be involved in every sketchy place we’ve run across.”
“I, on the other hand, wouldn't be caught dead going to a third-rate strip club,” Tony said.
Natasha tapped on her phone. “It’s amateur night at the club. We could volunteer Steve. He’d win even if all he did was stand on the stage.”
“Team, focus. We’ve got a mission,” Steve insisted. “We’re after Crossbones. We’re not trying to win stripping contests.”
“Shoot — there goes another chance to see one of my childhood dreams come true,” Tony joked. Steve nearly did a double take but Tony was inspecting the table very closely.
A phone buzzed. “Well, I have to go to work now,” Natasha said as she picked up her bag. “See you later. Bring booty shorts, Steve.”
~~~~~
“Those aren’t booty shorts, Cap,” Tony pointed out as Steve packed a bag for the mission.
Steve had no idea why he was even bothering to pack a costume. He had no intention of entering any contests whatsoever. But he wasn’t about to discount any suggestions from Natasha — she knew her spy business. And if she thought that they needed Steve to strip, well, he’d be prepared.
He lifted the pair of shorts he was about to throw into his backpack. “All my shorts look like this.”
“Right,” Tony said, stroking his chin in that way he had that got under Steve’s skin in a good way.
Clint sighed and exchanged an eye roll with Tony. “Cargo shorts aren’t short enough. We’re looking for shorts that, um, hug your booty.” Clint started to go through Steve’s drawers and closet. “You’ve got to have something we can use.”
“In an emergency,” Steve repeated. Another reason he wasn’t keen on the whole amateur stripping contest was because it didn’t sound like it would provide an opportunity to punch Crossbones.
Steve hovered behind Tony and Clint as Clint tossed around his clothes, ready to pounce if they found anything private. He would die of complete embarrassment if Tony found his private sketchbooks -- the ones filled with, well, detailed and imaginative fantasy drawings of Tony in his birthday suit. Death from acute embarrassment was delayed another day when Clint unearthed a pair of worn jeans with holes.
“We’ll work with these,” he said “Grab those torn t-shirts, Tony, in the back.”
“I use those for painting,” Steve said.
“I love those jeans,” Tony protested. “You can see Steve’s —“
“Then they’re perfect. It’s for the mission, Cap, you can always buy more,” Clint reminded him. “Besides, you could finally snag a boyfriend in these.”
Tony was looking out the windows and muttering, “Steve doesn’t need a boyfriend.”
“Tony?” Steve asked. “What did you say?” He didn’t think that he had imagined that Tony had gone pale at Clint’s suggestion.
“Um, nothing — time to get going. We’re going to walk there, right? That was in the mission brief.” Tony said as he hustled them out of Steve’s room
~~~~~
Swingin’ Richards was the stereotypical smoky, dimly lit strip club with watered-down drinks, pricey lap dances and wait staff dressed in skimpy outfits. The perfect hangout for a supervillain like Crossbones. As his group entered the club, Steve scanned the crowd but didn’t see anyone he recognized, except for Tasha working the bar. He only glanced over the dance act on stage as they headed for their table.
The team had broken up into two groups - Bruce and Clint were friends taking out their buddy Scott, whose wife had just left him, while Thor, Sam, Steve and Tony were celebrating a birthday. Good enough cover stories in case anyone asked. As for his second secret mission, Steve was determined to avoid being drafted into the amateur stripper contest. Which appeared to be a popular draw for the gathering crowd.
“Tell me you’re not texting your mother,” Tony said to Sam, who was tapping into his phone.
Glowering at Tony, Sam snipped, “I went to SHIELD Academy, I know better.” Guiltily, he put away the phone. “I have a group project due next week.”
“I do not like this beer,” Thor said. “It tastes like water.”
“It’s going to be a long night,” Tony said to Steve.
Yes, it was going to be a long night, because there was no sign of Crossbones or his crew anywhere in the club. Thor was getting grumpy over the poor quality of beer, which was likely to attract the wrong attention from the wrong people. Clint and Scott were involved in another argument and Bruce had a ten thousand yard stare already.
“Relax. It’s still early,” Natasha said encouragingly. She had dozens of customers eating out of her hands. “Action won’t start until 10 pm at the earliest.”
Steve leaned against the bar and surveyed the room. It probably would have been better if it had been just him, Natasha, Sam and possibly Clint on the mission. But it was always useful to have Tony around in case a tech issue popped up or …. Well, Steve just preferred to have Tony around in general.
He trudged out to the floor again to take his seat next to Tony. “Nothing yet,” he whispered.
Tony showed Steve his phone. “I had Clint and Scott bug the place. Maybe we’ll get something that way.”
Yes, it was great to be working an undercover mission with Tony. He pulled his weight and could be counted on to innovate and switch it up if things went south. Beside, he always had a great story or an interesting piece of news to share. Steve never got bored around Tony.
“Thor, if the beer isn’t that good, maybe you should leave early?” Sam suggested after Thor sent his third beer back.
“I have no idea how this bar stays in business if the quality of their liquor is so poor. We would not give this to our pigs.” He slammed yet another beer on the tabletop with his fist.
Steve noticed a couple of men dressed in ill-fitting suits watching their table. Probably club security. “Uh, Thor --” he leaned forward to catch the god’s eye.
Thor grimaced and nodded. “Yes, Captain, I hear you. I will restrain myself.”
They ordered another round of mixed drinks. Tony played up the ‘guys out for a good time’ angle with the wait staff, even going so far to flirt with one guy wearing only gold lame short shorts and a bowtie. Steve took a dim view of this. Not that he could say anything since he wasn’t dating Tony, but he found he didn’t appreciate the wink and flash of skin aimed at Tony.
Tony nudged him. “I’m not paying for a lap dance, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Steve said nothing, just sipped his drink. “We don’t have time for that anyway.”
“So if we had time, you’d be okay with me getting a lap dance?” Tony asked.
Steve gave him an odd look. “Are you saying that you want a lap dance?” He drank his beer.
“Depends on who is offering,” Tony replied with a glint in his eye. “Steve, honestly, have you ever had a lap dance? I could show you —“
The tips of Steve’s ears started burning. Imaging Tony rocking his hips back and forth on Steve’s thighs. He coughed into his beer until Tony thumped his back. “You okay there?”
“Fine, thanks.” No, he wasn’t thinking at all of Tony showing him exactly what a lap dance was. Nope, not going to think of that at all.
Sam said, “Hey, last call for the amateur contest.”
“People who text their mothers from strip clubs probably shouldn’t enter amateur stripping contests,” Tony observed.
“I told you it was a group project!” Sam protested.
“Sure,” Tony said.
“Finally, a beer that I can drink,” Thor grumbled. “Another!” He shouted at the waiter, who only seemed to be interested in what Tony had to say.
Steve didn’t get headaches at all, but he could feel one developing. “I’m going to check in with the others,” Steve said, pushing back from the table.
~~~~~
Steve decided to regroup in the men’s bathroom. He ignored that his shoes stuck to the tile floor and grabbed an empty stall to review the mission intel on his phone.
Natasha had no new information. Clint was on the verge of strangling Scott and Bruce was just plain miserable. Steve texted Clint to cut Bruce loose -- the Hulk suddenly appearing in the club would wreck the mission just as surely as Steve bouncing a trash can lid off Crossbones’ head.
He had the sinking feeling that this was a bad idea. Even though Natasha was still chipper about the whole thing. She had made $1000 in tips and had two job offers.
Then there was Tony, bright and effervescent and constantly in Steve’s space. Besides Natasha, Tony was the only sane person on the team tonight. Sam was being eaten up with guilt over either his mom or his group project or maybe both. Thor was likely to start a fight out of boredom. He wasn’t even going to think about Clint and Team Disaster.
And he was the worst of them all. If their waiter batted his eyelashes one more time at Tony, Steve would have to think about giving him a bad tip.
Of course, he wouldn’t be suffering like this if he would just ask Tony out. But every time he built up the courage, he’d open his mouth and Tony would smile at him and he’d get weak in the knees and talk about the weather or robots or the team
There was a knock on the stall door. “Hey, Steve, it’s me. Let me in.”
He couldn’t really say no to Tony. He pushed the door open and Tony slipped into the stall. It proved to be a tight fit.
Tony whispered, “Part of Crossbones’ posse just walked in.”
Steve smiled with relief. “Good.”
“We have to be careful -- they almost recognized Thor until Sam convinced them that Thor was a drunk oil rig worker that was on shore leave.”
“Maybe this is the break we’re looking for.”
“Yeah, but you have to be careful -- Crossbones could recognize you in a New York minute.”
Tony was pressed up against Steve because while the stall was generously sized for a single person, it wasn’t made for two people of Tony and Steve’s size. The more Tony moved the more Steve’s cheeks became heated. Every time Tony moved, he pressed heated skin against Steve and his hand brushed Steve’s side. Tony’s sandalwood cologne filled Steve’s nose and, wow, was that Tony’s thigh right there between his? Because that wasn’t the toilet paper dispenser poking him.
“Hey -- how long are you going to be in there?” a guy asked on the other side of the door.
They’d be there forever, if Steve had anything to do with it. Tony’s lips were an inch away from his and all Steve had to do was shift and they would —
“We’re busy,” Tony said. “Yeah, baby, touch me right there, just like that.”
Steve’s jaw dropped -- Tony winked at him. Tony let out out a low moan -- sounding just like Steve had always imagined him. Tony rustled their clothes, running his hands over his own pants and then Steve’s shirt. “That’s right, baby, keep doing that.”
“Okay, yeah …” The voice on the other side of the door muttered. “Never mind.”
Tony fake-moaned even louder to drive the point home. Steve felt blood rushing to all sorts of parts of his body, just not any part suitable for church. If this was what Tony really sounded like in bed, damn, Steve was missing out on something special.
“What was that about, Tony?” Steve asked after he won the war over his body.
Tony swept his hand through his hair and smiled ruefully at Steve. “You know, play-acting — a man’s gotta dream sometime.” He pushed the door open a crack. “Coast is clear, let’s get going.”
~~~~~
Against everything sensible in the universe, one of the team (or perhaps all of the team, Steve shuddered to think) had entered Steve in the amateur contest.
Natasha delivered the news. “When they call Jake Evans, you’re up.”
Steve hissed, “What if Crossbones walks through that door?”
She shrugged. “We’ll handle it. He might not be here tonight — his crew are spilling everything to me and Clint. Everything, it’s like intel Christmas.” Clint was standing at their table joking about something. “We’re getting a lot of inside information about their operation.”
Tony grabbed him. “Come on, we have twenty-five minutes to get you ready.”
He pulled Steve into a dark hallway behind the stage. A couple of other contestants were nearby getting ready, unpacking their costumes — tearaway clothing, props, etc.
Steve dug in his heels. “Uh, Tony, this is a bad idea.”
“You’ll be fine. Natasha and Clint fixed your clothes when she was on break.” He held up the jeans and a couple of t-shirts. “They cut your clothes so that you can rip them easily. I’m supposed to teach you some dance moves.”
Steve changed quickly while Tony kept his eyes closed and dangled a thong from his hand. Maybe his eyes were closed, Steve couldn’t be absolutely certain. “Thong?”
“It’s part of the stripper uniform.”
“Right.” He hoped he wasn’t blushing furiously. He fumbled into the rest of his clothes. One of the t-shirts had been altered so he could wear it over the other shirt. “I’m dressed.”
“Turn around around.” Tony studied him. “You’ll have to go with the boy next door or backyard mechanic shtick. That’s the only explanation for that costume. Or this is what you had left over on Laundry Day.”
“Right.”
“There’s always a hook, Steve. Now for a few dance steps.”
Steve tried a routine.
Tony shook his head. “No, no WWII USO stuff. Think seductive and slinky.”
“I haven’t --“
“Hey, we’re going to win this contest. In it to win it. Seriously, you’re already head and shoulders above your competition. Imagine the job offers. Porn Hub might make you their mascot.”
Oh, this was a seriously bad idea, Steve thought as he tried to shimmy seductively along the hallway in front of the guy he’d had a crush on for years. He couldn’t meet Tony’s eyes at all as he turned and attempted another shimmy.
“Steve, god,” Tony said. “Stop. You’re dancing like someone is poking you with a cattle prod. Like this.”
Tony shimmied a few feet. But it wasn’t a simple dance step. It was a complete work of art. Tony danced sensuously from head to toe, hips shaking, arms moving in time, all his assets on view, a smoldering seductive smile on his face. Steve stood there, mouth open, every nerve sparking, and his blood racing.
“See, it’s not hard at all. Try it.”
Steve was glued to the floor, completely unable to move. He wanted to beg Tony to do that again. Forever. Together alone in his room. Maybe without so many clothes on.
“Come on, Steve. I’ve seen you do lots of things like this in training before. Dancing isn’t hard.”
Tony put his hands on Steve’s hips. “Move like this.”
Now Steve knew well the gifts of the super soldier serum -- the grace, the ability to learn any physical move quickly and retain all the he learned. But it all slipped through his fingers when Tony tapped his hip and said, “Move.”
He moved in the direction that Tony nudged him. “Yeah, like that, Steve.” He let Tony turn him around. “Now repeat that.”
He was breathless as Tony looked into his eyes. “Tony.”
“Yeah, Steve?” Tony leaned in closer, his breath warm on Steve’s cheek.
Steve lifted his chin, his thumb resting on Tony’s chin. “Can I --?”
“Anything, Steve.” Tony closed his eyes. And Steve took a breath and --
“Hey! Jake Evans! Get your ass in line.”
Steve punched his thigh and Tony cursed. “Go out there and shake what your mother gave you,” Tony said encouragingly. Then he whispered into Steve’s ear, “Dance like I’m the only one watching.”
Well, if Steve did that, the bar would get closed down for indecency.
~~~~~
The DJ played something electronic with a booming bass line. After a brief wait, the MC told Steve, “You have five minutes. Don’t pass out, don’t let the customers touch you, no nakedness.” Then he pushed Steve onto the stage.
Okay, you can do this, Rogers. Tony had already snaked his way back to the floor and was standing near the stage. Dance for Tony. That’s all you have to do.
Steve shimmied as best he could down the stage, shedding his first layer as he went. Oh wow, the look on Tony’s face. Steve bounced back and forth, barely hearing the shouts of the crowd, only focused on Tony’s leering intent gaze. He ripped his shirt of, the hot stage lights making the sweat on his toned skin shine. The liquored-up crowd roared for more. But he danced only for Tony’s bright eyes and broad smile. He spun a few times athletically around the pole. Then he reached for his belt buckle --
Which was exact moment that Clint threw a beer bottle and started a huge bar fight. A security guard rushed Steve off the stage and dumped him in the alleyway in the back of the club with the rest of the contestants.
He banged on the door, demanding to be let back in. Sam -- now in his Falcon uniform -- opened the door. “Crossbones just showed up.”
“Give me a couple of minutes.” Steve snapped into Captain America mode. “Let’s take him down.”
In the end, the operation was a complete success. They rounded up Crossbones and his gang within thirty minutes. He barely had a chance to talk to Tony, who had managed to summon his armor in the time it took Steve to suit up. All they could do was exchange a salute and a rueful smile. SHIELD showed up for clean up.
Back in his civvies ( not the stripper outfit), Steve was standing talking with the team when Tony showed up with his armor carefully tucked away in a briefcase of all things. “If no one minds, I’m stealing Cap for a debrief.”
“A debrief or a de-brief?” Clint asked.
“Whichever one -- is none of your business, Arrow Guy,” Tony retorted.
“Where are we going?” Steve asked Tony as Tony whisked him away to a waiting car.
“Out to dinner or somewhere that’s not the Tower right now. Anywhere we won’t be interrupted by the team or supervillains.”
They ended up watching the stars on a bench in Central Park, holding hands. “I thought maybe you were flirting with me at the bar,” Steve confessed. “I hoped I was right.”
Tony slapped his shoulder. “I was aggressively flirting with you. Glad you noticed!”
Steve snickered and nudged Tony’s knee. “Thanks. For the dancing lesson.”
“You almost killed me back there. I could hardly keep my hands off you.” Tony laid his head on Steve’s shoulder. “How much do I need to pay for a private dance?”
“Take me on a boyfriend date?”
“Hah. You’re easy.” He kissed Steve’s cheek. “Anytime, big guy. I’m free tomorrow night, for starters.”
“It’s a date,” Steve said happily.
“Bring the stripper outfit, though. I have plans for it.”