Work Text:
The first time, it nearly escaped notice. Tony came down to the kitchen, hair tousled and rings under his eyes highlighted by the muted glow of the arc reactor pulsing beneath blue and white cloth. Tony grunted at Dr. Banner, who was awake and reading quietly over his toast, then shambled towards the coffee maker, over-sized jersey flapping around him like a dress. Mug in hand, Stark flopped into a chair turned backward, wincing as he sat, and let the warmth and the scent of toasted caffeine bring him back to life.
Bruce wondered silently to himself when, exactly, Tony Stark had become a Brooklyn Dodgers fan.
-
"I appreciate this," Steve said to Natasha with a smile, as she posed by his bedroom window. Sketch-pad in hand, he caught in coal-grey the shades of sunlight glinting off her flaming hair. "Its been awhile since I've had a subject to sketch; I've fallen out of practice."
"For you, I don't mind," she shrugged, then blurted out "Sorry," realizing the sudden movement might have thrown him off. She had hidden stone-still behind enemy lines before; modeling for a friend should be easier than this.
Natasha let her eyes wander through the room to ease her boredom, and noticed the bustling of robotic arms in the corner of the room; laundry being brought back. She would have given it no further notice, until the flash of fire-engine red that caught her eye. Amongst modest boxer shorts, the servant-bot tucked what was unmistakably a scandalous, Stark-sized thong into Steve's underwear drawer.
She bit her lip against a laugh.
-
Pepper Potts had seen Tony through more parties, charity functions, openings and press conferences than she could count, and so was no stranger to being kept waiting. She tapped painted nails against the arm rest as the car idled outside the Avengers Mansion. He was an hour overdue; fortunately the UNICEF banquet could easily get underway without its biggest donor arriving on time.
She had nearly nodded off when an out of breath Tony jolted her awake with a slam of the door as he swung his legs into the car. By rote, she began filling him in on little details he had missed, such as where exactly he was late to, and the other appointments he had skipped that afternoon that were in need of their umpteenth rescheduling.
They were halfway down the road before Pepper looked up and noticed, for one, he was still somewhat breathless, and more distracted than usual (if such a thing were possible). And for another, there was his choice of attire. The suit he wore clearly was not his; too old-fashioned to be from a designer label, the cloth was a sedate navy blue, and cut for shoulders broader than his.
Tony noticed her appraising stare and shrugged sheepishly. "It was in the closet I woke up next to."
-
Loki was in rare form this week. In the course of an hour, Mjollnir had become a fish (which Thor continued to feebly try to slap his brother with), Hawkeye's arrows kept turning into long-stemmed roses on impact, Captain America had to bow out of the fight when he suddenly found himself unable to even lift his shield, and half a city block laid to waste as the Avengers fought to contain the god of Mischief.
Even in a playful mood, the trickster's green eyes blazed with murderous intent as he bore down on Iron Man, dodging the beams of energy sent back at him through metallic palms. Loki's staff glowed with a menacing charge of power, smiting Iron Man deep into the pavement. Loki stalked forward to finish him off, then felt the triumphant smirk ripped in agony from his face as a steel punch caught him across the jaw.
As Loki reeled back to recover, he could swear he heard the Captain's insufferably dweebish voice from the silver Iron Man suit bending down to help Stark to his feet. "You borrowed my best suit; consider us even."
And Loki had to be hallucinating when he heard Iron Man reply, "Fine; but I'll trade you a blowjob for those argyle socks."