Work Text:
Steve awoke, looking about the room in confusion. He knew he'd fallen asleep watching The Wizard of Oz with Thor last night...The god must have actually carried him back up the stairs, and put him into bed. Last month, after weeks of training together in the gym, watching old movies that Steve had missed out on while he was in the ice, and planning out apologies for broken appliances, Thor had asked the soldier out to dinner(Paid for by Tony's credit card) and their relationship had evolved to something more than friendship.
Steve had thought he had Thor somewhat figured out- Was defensive of his brother, adored almost any unhealthy food, thought with his heart over his mind(Most of the time, anyway) and enjoyed musicals and cliche, bloody horror movies equally.
He had most certainly not expected Thor to be as sweet as one of the Pop-Tarts he was constantly eating.
If Steve mentioned a book he wanted to read, he would awake to it on his night stand a day or two later. Once he'd said something about how much he liked nectarines, and walked into the kitchen a few hours later, to find about a dozen of them in a bowl on the counter. That led to Steve making a nectarine pie, in order to not waste any of the fruit(Tony liked it the most out of any of the Avengers, and considered it a sufficient apology for when Thor broke something-which was at least every couple weeks).
On the night they'd gone for dinner, it had been chilly outside, as they waited for a cab to take them home. When Steve had made a comment about it(Yes, Steve could still feel cold, even after being frozen for seventy years) Thor had taken off his jacket, and draped it over the shorter blond's shoulders.
He was Captain America, for God's sake. He'd fought in World War Two, he'd helped save the world in New York-but one simple act of chivalry from a handsome Norse god had made him melt like the ice cream Clint had left out on the counter last week.
Glancing over to his bedside table, Steve noticed a note laying next to the glass he'd forgotten to take to the sink. The soldier got out of bed, picked up the note, and read it on his way out of the room.
Did you sleep well?
The short message wasn't signed, but Steve recognized the large, clear script. When he got to the main living room, Tony, Bruce, and Clint were already grouped around the large flat screen TV. Steve didn't recognize the show they were watching, but it currently seemed to consist of a man with short, sandy hair engaged in conversation with a taller man, who had a head full of dark curls and cheekbones that could cut through glass. Bruce and Tony looked up as the super soldier entered the room.
"Good morning."
"You look like you're doing the walk of shame."
Steve liked to think of it as more of a victory march, but hey, everyone had the right to their own opinion. As he went to sit on the couch, Clint's eyes went to the paper still in Steve's hand. Without bothering to ask, Clint snatched the note, reading it quickly.
Clint was feeling nosy. That was never good. When Clint was nosy, it was never on a normal level. If he wanted to know something, he would stop at nothing to find out. Whether it was asking a drunk Tony or hiding in the air vents for hours until he heard somebody mention the piece of information, Clint went above and beyond the normal standards of inquisitive. He could be Sherlock Holmes when he wanted to. This was the beginning of the end. Soon, Steve would no longer have secrets. He'd have to start whacking the vents with a broom to scare off perching hawks.
"I do believe this is a love letter." No. He was terribly wrong. Clint was in a joking mood. God help them all. Or in this case, God help Steve Rogers in what will likely be an embarrassing time.
"Well, who is it from? What does it say?" Tony was humoring him. Wonderful. And the old English accent he'd taken on was grinding at Steve's nerves.
"It's from the God of Thunder- he's asking for intercourse! And right away!"
Tony and Steve both gasped, for different reasons. Tony's was sarcastic, while Steve's was of a mixture of embarrassment and wanting to whack Clint in the head with his own bow. He and Thor hadn't even discussed sex yet- It wasn't that he didn't want to do those things with the god- he did, but he was terribly inexperienced. Between his past shrimp-like build, and fighting in the war, Steve hadn't had the opportunity to court somebody, much less take them to bed. Bruce patted Steve on the shoulder in sympathy.
"Then there is no time to waste! Let us away! Clint, man the sexmobile. Bruce, you grab his arms. I'll take his legs. The moon is waning and the virginity of Steve Rogers is to be taken! We must get him to the room of Thor, and fast, before the mood is lost!"
Steve wondered how long Fury would yell at him if he attempted to strangle Tony right now.