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Every Avenger had their vices, something that helped them out when they were stressed. For Tony, it was playing with toys in his lab and making them go "boom." For Clint, he climbed into the vents and retreated into one of the many hiding places he had found throughout the tower, enjoying the solitude. As for you, you ate Pocky when you were stressed. Which meant you were eating Pocky practically all of the time, because between Thor discovering the parkour craze and Tony still stabbing Bruce with electric pens when he was bored, there was no shortage of things to be upset by.
When you got really desperate, you melted a Hershey's bar in the microwave and made your own.
After a bad day at SHIELD where Fury tried repeatedly to reign you in with his loud voice and insulting words, you curled up in the corner of the couch and stretched your legs over Thor's lap. Thor hardly ever cared when you invaded his personal space, which wasn't too surprising, since he was the first to pick someone up in an uninvited hug strong enough to pop their back. Steve joined at the other side of the couch and Tony went to the minibar, pouring himself a mixer.
You didn't get to have the choice of movie. Since you'd chosen last time, you had to sit back and groan while Tony put on Fast and Furious. You'd seen it so many times thanks to the billionaire that you were getting sick of it. Nonetheless, forty minutes into the movie, you were munching on a box of Pocky, gnawing on the biscuits to make them last. You didn't want to have to get up.
When you ran out, you made puppy dog eyes at Clint, who happened to be standing up.
The archer knew exactly what you wanted when you shook your empty red box at him. Shaking his head, he crossed back into the kitchen. "You've got a problem," he muttered when he handed you a second serving. Compliantly, you nodded, and then completely disregarded him to rip open the box.
Tony saw what was going on and spoke up over the movie, interrupting everyone else who was watching. At least Clint had been quieter. "You eat so much of that junk that your breath probably tastes like it," he complained.
"What, like yours probably tastes like alcohol?" You retorted. Pepper was cuddled next to Tony in the loveseat, and she covered her mouth with her hand, looking up at Tony with amusement.
The rest of the team watched the two of you volley playful insults back and forth regarding the consumption of your favorite unhealthy things. It ended when Tony said with a note of finality that you probably wouldn't even be good at the objective of the Pocky game, because instead of playing along, you would be getting more Pocky to restart. You rolled your eyes, threw one of the throw pillows at his face (thankfully not hitting Pepper by accident), and resettled.
After the movie was over, everyone turned in quickly. Natasha and Clint both melted away before anyone could say much more than "no, Tony, it's late and we're not watching the sequel." Even the most gentlemanly members of the team had left what passed as a lounge in a matter of moments, and left you in it alone. Rolling your eyes, you put down your snack and started collecting things, rearranging them. Tony had staff that would do it, but it wasn't much, and you didn't think that cleaning staff should be forced to handle things that seven adults were perfectly capable of doing on their own in a matter of moments.
You carried Tony's and Pepper's liquor glasses to the kitchenette, moved the cushions all back to the right places, and folded up some of the throw blankets that had been used. You found a discarded book that looked like it probably belonged to Bruce and made a mental note to take it to him in the morning. The dishes, someone else could do, but you went ahead and rinsed out the glasses.
"Oh, I was going to help you with that." Steve's recognizable and quiet voice made you quickly look over your shoulder. The problem with living with Avengers was that the majority of them were pretty good at sneaking up on you, even when they didn't mean to.
"It's alright," you promised. You'd always been pretty easygoing with Steve and Thor. They weren't exactly in their elements; one was accustomed to the nineteen forties, and the other to an entirely different world. You had the most patience for them. "There wasn't much, anyway. I thought you'd gone to bed."
Steve shook his head and pulled out a high stool on the other side of the marble island across from the sink. "Fury wanted an incident report," he answered. You nodded vaguely. You'd already sent one of those on your phone. "Did you like the movie?" He questioned politely, making conversation.
You felt a little warm. Steve was such a sweetheart, and you'd been crushing on the guy for almost the entire time you'd known him. Knowing Captain America was pretty freaking cool, but his superhero identity wasn't the reason you liked him. You enjoyed getting to know him as you took him to the library, introduced him to the Internet, showed him how to use Stark technology, integrated him a little more every day into pop culture. You even gave him his little booklet that he wrote things down in when he wanted to learn more about them.
"It was good," you remarked, turning off the water and drying your hands.
"But the Pocky was better?" Steve guessed. You turned back to him with your eyes narrowed – no one teased you and got away with it, as Tony had "volunteered" to prove – but saw his lips were upturned mirthfully. His eyes were lit up, so you decided to let it slide.
"Captain Rogers," you said with an expression of grave seriousness, reaching across the island to put your hand on his shoulder over the sleeve of his white tee shirt. His face sobered with a hint of alarm when he saw how grave you looked. Then, anticlimactically, you released his arm and giggled. "Pocky makes everything better."
He broke into a flustered grin and looked down at the grey, black, and white-speckled top of the counter. His laugh was music to your ears, and you beamed, proud to have caused it. He looked up at you with warm blue eyes and settled his elbows on the table.
"So, would you like to play the Pocky game, like Stark said?"
You made a quiet little squeak and the smile fell off of your face as your cheeks turned ruby red. The Pocky game?! With Steve?! Well, sure, it combined two things you were crazy about, but – but – well, okay, there wasn't a downside, but Steve didn't usually just propose you kissed over snacks! Both excitement and embarrassment flooded you and made it hard to say much of anything, but you saw his face falling into bemusement at the not strictly positive reaction.
It was a joke. Tony probably put him up to it and told him it would be funny. If it'd been anyone else, you might've laughed, but it being the person you actually wanted to kiss and have it mean something…
"I have to go take out my contacts," you blurted the first excuse that came to your head and all but ran to the elevator.
Once the doors were swiftly closed behind you, JARVIS' voice filled the small chamber. "Miss Y/L/N, pressing my buttons will not change the speed at which you're delivered to your floor."
"Shut up, JARVIS," you grumbled. "Ugh, why did I say that? I'm not even wearing contacts!" You hit your head heavily into the metal interior.
JARVIS did not, in fact, shut up. Trust Tony to program a smartmouthed and nosy AI. You swore that if JARVIS was influenced by anyone untrustworthy, it could easily become an X-Files, Ghost-in-the-Machine situation. "Perhaps you should have your eyesight checked," the computer suggested.
"What did you just say?" You asked, glaring at the security camera.
" Perhaps you should also have your hearing checked."
You flipped off the camera.
Steve knew when you got away from him as quickly as you could that he'd done something wrong, but he didn't know what. You were the first to invite him into games of Monopoly, Mario Kart, Life, Risk, rummy, poker, and any number of other weird ones that he'd never heard of. He just thought he'd return the favor. And it involved Pocky, so he had assumed you would enjoy it.
He ran his hand through his hair and slumped over the table. That was more of a step backwards than a step forwards.
Light footsteps returned to the lounge after the elevator dinged in someone's arrival. Steve's head shot up and he turned around on the chair quickly, looking to see, hoping you'd returned. No – it was just Pepper, who was certainly nice, but she wasn't the one he wanted to spend time with.
"Evening, Pepper," he commented sullenly, leaning over the counter and replaying the scene in his mind, looking for where it had gone wrong.
"Evening!" The ginger chirped, walking right past him. Then she stopped, and took a few steps backwards. She turned her body to look at him intently, discovered his mood, and seated herself in the chair next to him in just a matter of seconds. "What's wrong this time?"
"Nothing," he said on habit, assuring her not to be worried. The planet wasn't under attack for once. He reconsidered and it occurred to him that Pepper, like you, was a woman from the twenty-first century, and could possibly be very helpful. "Actually," he corrected himself. The redhead smiled knowingly and nodded for him to continue. "It's about Y/N…"
To the best of his ability, he related the discussion word-for-word from when he'd joined you in the kitchen to when you'd gone scurrying out, and to his chagrin, it ended with Pepper snorting inelegantly into her hand before she lost her cool and started laughing loudly. Steve sighed quietly, looked up at the ceiling, and waited for her to explain. When she did, he felt his face blush as hard as yours had.
"Miss," JARVIS' voice filled your bedroom while you laid on the mattress, your head buried under a plush pillow. "Miss, I can tell from your vitals that you are awake." You muttered something unflattering. Somehow, JARVIS managed to take on a disgruntled tone. "Be that as it may, Captain Rogers is looking for you."
"Tell him I jumped out the window," you remarked, throwing the pillow to the side and rolling onto your back. As soon as you arrived in your room, you'd just thrown yourself over the bed.
"Should I also inform him that you developed the ability to install windows in your bedroom?" JARVIS sarcastically asked you, pointing out that there wasn't a window in the room you resided in.
"I hate you," you told him agitatedly. For some reason, JARVIS had never liked you very much. You blamed his programmer.
A knock on your door prevented you from continuing your banter. You played dead like a possum, barely even breathing, until Steve's voice filtered through the door. "Y/N, I know you're inside." He paused. "JARVIS told me where you were."
"Traitor," you hissed, reluctantly getting up to go pull the door open. You were faced with Steve, who was holding a hand behind his back and an apologetic, meek smile on his lips. Thankfully, he didn't appear upset that you had abandoned him without a decent explanation.
"Hi," you said, still a little bit mortified.
Steve smiled gently down at you and stood in the doorway. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry," he started off with, and your eyes widened. What did he have to be sorry for? "I didn't understand what the game was before I asked, and I believe it caused a, uh, misunderstanding." His face flamed red and you laughed nervously. At least you weren't the only one who wasn't completely at ease.
"It's okay," you laughed a little more, relieved, and leaned against the door as you held it open. So it hadn't been a joke, it had been an innocent mistake. It was a little bit disappointing, but you hadn't held much hope to begin with. "I should've explained…"
"Well, Pepper left the rules a bit… vague." Shocking you, Steve held out the hand from behind his back. He was carrying one of your Pocky boxes from the kitchen. "I thought… you could teach me?" He was positively scarlet, and your heart was threatening to stop. Interesting thought – if you had a heart attack, would JARVIS alert anyone, or would the brat just pretend not to notice? "That is, if you're amiable," Steve hurried to clarify. "I wouldn't want to make any presumptions, I just…"
"You know the game involves kissing," you said flatly, just as embarrassed, but not wanting to give the chance for any more misunderstandings to occur.
He nodded his head once, hopefulness in his eyes and the lift of his abashed smile. "I haven't kissed anyone in the twenty-first century yet," he admitted shyly. "It's on my list. And, since you gave me the list to begin with, I thought… I mean, I've been thinking for a while now… you might be the one I should try it with."