Chapter Text
-”I believe you may want to add one up to the count, Rogers !” Stark said, smiling with all his teeth. The rest of the room wolf-whistled, watching Steve getting up muttering “I hate this” and erase the previous score under “Stark”, changing 22 into a tiny, tiny 23. Steve was still at 20.
- “Look at that, I’m winning !” Stark auto clapped himself. “I must admit, it does feel good, yeah.” He added, accepting the praise of the rest of the team.
- “You haven't won yet, Stark.”
- “Aha, sorry Steve, I didn’t hear you over the sound of your saltiness… “ He had the balls to wink at him. God.
They all finished debriefing the cases opened, the most important one was being led by Stark. Again. If he let himself be led by his jealousy - not that he would admit ever being jealous of Tony Stark - he would accuse the other detective of having interior help. After all, everyone knew Howard Stark knew the Commissioner, and half of the NYPD by now, and especially Captain Fury, and no one wanted to make him angry. Except… Except Tony didn’t talk to his Dad anymore, and had told Steve in great details after one of their first big fights. So no. He wouldn’t go there. As much as the voice in his head murmured.
He passed by his desk, leaning on it, pretending to read over his shoulder.
- “What do you want now, Rogers ?” The other man sing-songed.
- “Nothing. Just wanted to tell you to enjoy it while it lasts. Because it won’t.”
- “Yeah, sure, keep believing.” He snorted, before finally looking at the other guy. “By the way, shouldn’t you, you know, work instead of chit-chat, to maybe… Solve some cases ? That would be good, no ?”
- “Shut up.” He pushed his shoulder lightly and finally went to his own desk, a small smile on his lips. He had two month to one-up Stark in their little bet. And he was going to win, he just knew it.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
3 weeks later and fuck. Tony had fucked himself up, hadn’t he ? Because he had… Put his eggs all in one basket or sold something before getting something… No matters how the saying went, Tony had his own way of saying it : He fucked up. Because it had been 2 weeks without any new real solve, any new cases done, and Steve Rogers was now almost 10 points ahead of him.
- “Stark, how are we in all of you opened cases ?” Fury asked, looking part annoyed at him, part grateful for having the opportunity of annoying him in front of the team.
- “Well. It’s getting promising… I should be done with some fairly soo-”
- “No, you’re not. Because you’re in a slump, Stark.” Rogers was all too happy to say, smug and all. Bastard. Attractive bastard…
- “I’m not. I never hit any slump. I’m in the reverse of a slump. I’m.. Pimuls. That’s the reverse of slump. I’m pimulsing my cases.”
- “Alright I don’t want to hear more of that nonsense. Dismissed.” Fury said before strolling out the room. Grimacing, Tony was getting up when Rogers went all up in his personnal space.
- “You’re slumping, Stark. Look at the scoreboard.” He said, in a low voice, almost in his ear, and god that was attractive. Damn Steve. Without adding anything else, he smiled and went away. Why the fuck was Tony shivering uh ?
- “I can solve a case for you, Stark if you want.” The voice of Natasha in his back made him jump.
- “Stop.. Stop doing that Natasha, I already told you-”
- “The case of you being in love with Rogers.” She said, a small smile, crossing her arms.
- “Ridiculous. You’re just… That’s ridiculous now.” He huffed and went away, strolling at his desk and trying to finally get a case done.
The day later, when he was nowhere close to getting anything done, and bad luck was just pilling on him - In order, he burned his diner, broke his phone, arrived late at work, and a civilian had just spilled a coffee on him (by accident.. He hoped) -, he slumped at his desk, banging his head against it. Fuck his lifeeeee.
- “Hey there pal.” The voice of Clint broke him out of his misery for a short break. “You don’t look so good today.”
- “Just. Kill me Clint, now, please. My bad luck is getting worse, and worse, and I think I might end up in a destination finale like situation if no one stops it. Do something.”
- “Nah. I’m not going to kill my favorite co-worker, I’m not a savage.”
- “Aw, I’m your fave ? That’s nice.”
- “Yeah, Natasha’s too scary, Steve’s too righteous, Bruce’s too nice, and Coulson and Fury are my bosses so…”
- “You’re diminishing the effect if you justify it Barton.” Tony shook his head. “Anyway. If you do not want to kill me, please kindly fuck off.”
- “I could maybe be persuaded, Tony.” Natasha said, passing by. He smiled to her.
- “See, that’s what friends are for !” Pointing Natasha to Clint.
- “No, no wait !” Clint raised his hands. “I may not kill you, but I may end up your bad luck. Here, take the rabbit foot.”
- “What. The. Fuck. Barton.” He replied, since Clint had literally just given him a rabbit foot. A real one. God. On a key-chain ? What the fuck.
- “It’s for good luck ! You rub it, yeah ? Like so.” He made a show of it. “And your luck’s going to improve.”
- “I don’t want your voodoo magic, Barton, especially since it won’t work.” He groaned. Fuck his day.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
- “You’re benched Stark.” Was all Fury said, before he could even sit properly at his desk the day after.
- “What ?!”
- “Disaster after disaster, we can’t have that. You’ll digitize files until your luck..” He threw a look at the rabbit’s foot, still on his desk. “Turns.” He turned around and went in his office.
- “Fuck !”
- “It could be worse.” Said gently Bruce, patting his shoulder. “Why is your shirt wet, Tony ?” He frowned.
- “Because a fucking pigeon pooped on me and I had to rinse it off !”
- “Ah.” Was all Bruce added, before scurrying off.
Tony slumped against his desk, again. The desk across him was Steve’s. He watched him work at his computer for 2 minutes, before realizing. He suddenly got up and pointed at Steve.
- “You !” The guy in question, startled and looked at Tony like he was the reincarnation of fucking Gabriel or whatnot.
- “Me ?”
- “Yeah you ! You did voodoo on me ! Admit it !”
- “Tony I..” Steve was actually blinking in confusion, like he hadn’t watched his descent in hell the last few weeks.
- “I’m serious, you were mad I was winning so you sold your virgin blood or something like that !” That made him blush. Was it a mad-blush or a shy-blush uh ?
- “You’re being crazy, Stark.” He shook his head and turned it around to look at his screen. Well. Maybe a mad-blush. Oups.
Sighting, Tony sat again, and opened the software to begin his tedious work. He hated being benched. This was the worst.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Steve was still working the next day, when a box of donuts was put - almost thrown - on his desk, rather loudly. He looked up to see Tony, looking disheveled, but still gorgeous. Damn the bastard.
- “What do you want, Stark ?” He was still mad after yesterday’s words. Sometimes Tony could just be the king of assholes.
- “To apologize.” He pushed the box toward him, like he was making a point. When Steve raised his eyebrows expectantly, he sighed but continued. “I shouldn’t have said you were a virgin and that you did voodoo on me.” He shrugged and looked somewhere else than in Steve’s eyes. Knowing Tony, it was almost a damn miracle he had even said the words “sorry”.
- “Fine. Apologies accepted.” He took a donut, and bit with delight. Tony always bringed the best. “So. Has your bad luck stream ended ?”
- “It has, actually.” He smiled. “Turned out being bored at my desk rebooted my brain. I solved 2 cases yesterday and I think a third is close to being done. So don’t count on victory just yet, Rogers.” He wiggled his eyebrows, backing up while still looking at him. “I’m not out of the gam-” He was stopped abruptly when he collided with Clint, deep in his phone. They both fell. It was great.
Of course Steve would not count his eggs before they hatched. Tony would always give him a bit of a challenge.
That’s why he liked him after all.