Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Fuck.”

That had always been one of Toni’s favorite words. Simple, yet efficient. Powerful or submissive, depending on how you used it. A statement of victory or defeat. A noun or a verb.

“Fuckity fuck fucking shit on a stick goddamnit.”

Along with being one of her favorite words, it is also the only word she could think of currently that expressed her current situation.

Of the two thin red lines, staring up at her.

This is amazing.

“This is awful.”

I can’t believe this is happening to me!

“I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

She could be-

“There is no way in hell I am ready to be a mother.”

Toni takes a deep breath, trying to calm the panic she can feel beginning to crush her chest.

Step by step, Tones, she reminds herself in Rhodey’s voice. You can do this.

She flushes the toilet, tosses the stick in the bin, and washes her hands. Toni spares a glance at herself in the mirror.

She takes after Howard. She’s been told it her entire life. She sees him in her cheekbones, in the set of her mouth, the cut of her jawline. In her mind, in her drinks.

Her eyes, though. Her eyes are all Maria.

I take after Howard. I can’t do this.

My eyes are my mother’s. I can do this.

Toni presses the heels of her palms into her eyes, welling back tears. Fuck. She just found out. Weren’t all the hormones supposed to come later in the pregnancy?

Step by step.

First, she needed to call backup. Then she could call Steve.

Maybe.

*

Normally, in situations regarding one night stands, her ex-girlfriend would be the last person she would consult.

But, well, desperate times do call for desperate measures. Pepper had been her friend long before they dated, and remained her friend still after they parted.

Pepper was there thirty minutes after Toni called, heels making a familiar clicking sound on the smooth concrete of the workshop. Toni focused her attention on the hologram in front of her, not on the skeptical gaze the redhead was surely training on her.

“Well, opening a call with “I’m pregnant” is a sure way to get me here quickly.”

“I wasn’t kidding,” Toni replied offhandedly, hands flipping through blueprints. She can practically feel Pepper’s shock radiating through the air, but she is determined to work through her latest idea for windmill technology. If she could just get the angle of the turn right-

“Natasha.”

Oh, shit. A full name. Toni is in trouble now. With a huff, she turns around.

“What?” she snapped, crossing her arms. She refused to meet Pepper’s concerned gaze. “Is it really that surprising, Pep? I have a womb. A damn fertile one, apparently. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner given my track record ten years ago.” Anger is hot in her tone, and she feels awful for unleashing it in Pepper’s presence. She’s just so scared.

Because she’s Pepper, and the best, she sees straight through Toni’s little tantrum. Gently, Pepper stepped forward, resting her arm on Toni’s forearm. “Let’s go upstairs, okay?”

With one touch, all of Toni’s fight melted out of her, leaving only a disconnected sense of fear. Trust Pepper to wring all of the emotions out of her like a wet towel. Doing what she truly did best, and what no other human on Earth (other than one maybe- no don’t think about him) could do: break Toni’s defenses.

“Okay,” she mumbles, and lets herself be led up to the kitchen.

While Pepper makes tea- Coffee won’t be good for you right now Toni, and you know it- Toni sits, observing Pepper’s long firey hair and steady hands like muscle memory. She fidgets, and tries to gauge Pepper’s reaction. Maybe she should have called Rhodey. She knows Pepper isn’t petty, not in the slightest, but she doesn’t want to make things awkward. It’s just, she loves Platypus, and knows he has her back, this just…seemed like a thing Pepper would understand more.

Pepper sets the tea in front of her, and Toni accepts it into her hands with a small thank you. When she looks up, Pepper’s brown eyes are concerned, but supportive. Toni instantly feels like a bitch for worrying.

“So,” Pepper starts, “Whose is it?”

“Yours?” Toni says, before taking a long sip to avoid Pepper’s classic be for fucking real Toni stare. And promptly burns her tongue.

“Shit! Fuck, that hurt.”

“Careful, we don’t want to teach those words to the baby that early,” Pepper deadpans, and Toni snorts.

“Wow, real clever right there, Pep. The pinnacle of humor.” Toni drags a hand down her face, then gives herself a mental kick. Come on, get on with it. “So you know that art exhibit about a month ago you made me go see because you couldn’t?”

“Because I was busy running your company?”

“Hey, I’m not being sassy, I’m just telling the story. Anyway, uh, it was the artist being featured that night. It’s his.”

“Oh, wow.” Pepper sounds shocked. “Never took you for the artsy type. Oh goodness, what was his name again? Something with an S-”

“Steve Rogers,” Toni finishes for her. “And I’m not at all the artsy type. Down with the humanities majors.” Toni runs an anxious hand through her hair. “I don’t know. Is saying the whole “He was different” thing too cliche?”

Pepper raises a brow. “Try a bit harder.”

Toni sighs, and fiddles with the end of her teabag. Honestly, she doesn’t even know how to explain it. She’d been bored as hell, absently drinking the champagne she was offered, studying an acrylic painting of none other than Stark Tower. It was gigantic, and honestly quite impressive. The artist had nailed the sunlight glinting off the windows and the always-blue sky. Toni isn’t one to wander romantically around museums, but she stops at this one. It’s like the artist drew Stark Tower exactly how she wanted it to be seen.

“Impressive building, isn’t it?” came a smooth, deep voice from behind her; Toni turned and was faced with a real life Ken Doll. He has fluffy, gorgeous blonde hair, devastating blue eyes, and a smile that was sweet with a hint of mischief.

She knows right then that she is so totally fucked.

Toni blinks to bring herself back, and manages a chuckle. Does he really not know who she is? “I’d say that I’m pretty impressed by it, but I might be personally biased. I don’t know how well the artist actually captured the seamless proportions.”

Ken’s eyes twinkled more. “Well, an artist merely captures and interprets what is in front of them. Maybe the proportions aren’t nearly as symmetrical as previously stated.”

Toni’s mouth falls open, as well as a startled laugh. “Did you just insult my building?”

“Depends. Did you insult my painting?”

She admires this man’s boldness, definitely. And also maybe his broad as fuck shoulders. Toni holds her hand out to be shaken.

“Natasha Stark, owner of the building with the monstrous proportions.”

The artist shakes her hand, his warm palm completely encompassing hers. Could this get any better?

“Steve Rogers, painter of the misguided interpretation.”

They chat more, and Toni learns that Steve is charming, funny, and sweet as candy. He blushes firetruck red whenever she makes a comment about his looks or his talent, and Steve compliments her in kind.

Steve’s laughing at a very good joke by Toni, if she does say so herself, when she sees his eyes catch on the red of her lipstick against her glass.

Huh. Interesting. She licks a stray drop from the edge and yep, there it is. Steve’s eyes darken, stormy blue, and when they meet hers, she’s even more fucked than she thought.

Okay, so Toni really doesn’t do the whole one night stand thing anymore, but it had been a while. She hadn’t been with anyone since her breakup with Pepper, and Steve was nice and handsome and she wanted him bad.

“Hypothetically, if I suggested we get out of here, how much would you be missed?”

“Well, this is my art show.” Steve’s eyes flickered down to where Toni was biting her lip, and she knew his decision was made. “But they’ll survive without me.”

It had been a wonderful night, then a wonderful morning, and, very uncharacteristically, Toni gave Steve her number.

What can she say, he was good.

But then, very uncharacteristically of her previous hookups, he hadn’t called her since. At first, it stung. Toni was sound in her knowledge that she could get it, but honestly, she had better things to dwell on than the blue of Steve’s eyes and the way he pushed his fingers inside her mouth at the same time as he pushed inside- okay stop thinking NOW.

Better things to focus on before she was pregnant with his freaking kid.

“I can’t even really say why for myself, Pep. It just felt so natural with him. I wasn’t really thinking of what was next, I just knew I wanted him to stay with me.” Tony groaned, resting her head in her hands. “God, do I have to tell him?”

Pepper slowly stroked her hands through Toni’s thick hair, scratching at her scalp. She hadn’t done that since they broke up, and Toni felt her eyes slip close in contentment.

“You don’t have to do anything, Toni. This is all up to you. You don’t even have to keep the child, if you don’t want to.” A pause. “Do you want to keep it?”

Ah, the classic question. Toni had thought about kids, of course she had. In the deepest part of her heart, she wanted them. She knew she wanted to be a mom, but that desire was always drowned out by her logic. She’d make a terrible mom looking at her family tree, she wouldn’t have enough time, she hadn’t found anyone she wanted to raise a kid with-

She opened her eyes to find Pepper staring at her. No judgement. No angst, no pettiness. Just Pepper.

Toni would have raised a child with Pepper, she was sure of it.

Toni knew she wanted to be a mother, and crazy as it sounds, this felt like a push in the right direction.

“Yes,” Toni said. She expected her voice to come out small, but instead it came out strong. She was sure.

Pepper smiled, a small thing pulling up the corner of her lips. “Alright, then. It’s time to make a fuck ton of appointments.”

*

Toni told Rhodey. He was shocked, but happy for her, and threatened to deck Steve if he was an asshole about it when she told him.

Which she still hadn’t gotten around to yet. Telling him, that is. Pepper had pestered her all through the doctor’s appointment, Rhodey by her side, that traitor, when Toni finally gave in. She’ll tell him. What has she got to lose, anyway? It’s simple. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with her after their night, so what would he want with their-her child.

Simple. She’ll give him a call, nice and casual, and say Hey Steve, remember that night of long and amazing sex we had? Well guess, what, I got pregnant from it! Bonkers, right? Well, I know I don’t seem like the type, but I desperately want a family, probably due to my deeply traumatic childhood and father issues, so I’m keeping the child, even though I know jack shit about you! Well lol, thanks for understanding! Bye!

Toni groaned to herself. Who the fuck says “bonkers?” Stupid.

As she was walking, she spotted a local coffee shop. She hadn’t been there in forever, but she remembered it fondly. Maybe she’d stop in. A different kind of liquid courage, although she discovered that the smell of coffee was starting to trigger her morning sickness, which was a bitch move. She’ll have to have a few words with her baby after she gave birth. When her baby could actually understand words.

“Yeah, you owe me for that, big time,” She murmured, hand absentmindedly on her stomach, when she saw him through the window.

One Steve Rogers, smiling brightly. Gripping the hands of a redhead, then joyfully scooping her in a hug and kissing her on the cheek.

Toni felt her heart drop into her stomach, whose contents were rising. Huh. So that was that.

It’s not like Toni was jealous. It had been a one night stand, of all things. They weren’t dating. There had just been a tiny part of her that hoped, just maybe, Steve would have wanted to raise the child with her.

She had to duck into the alleyway of the coffeeshop to vomit, and afterward, there was a sharp bitterness in her mouth and in her heart.

So that was that.

She wasn’t telling him.

Chapter Text

One Month Earlier…

Steve Rogers was bored.

He’s a polite guy, and it’s really impolite to outwardly groan at someone who wants to spend twenty-thousand dollars on your painting. But really, if he had to hear one more comment on how his masterful use of different shades of blue and purple represent the subtle tension between longing and restraint - he was gonna call his next series “Pyromaniac Unleashed” and set this whole building on fire. He hates schmoozing at these things. Even though he’s good at talking to people, a social scene was never his natural environment. He desperately wishes Bucky was here so he could save him with his usual roguish charm, but that traitor was busy taking Natasha out to a drive-in movie theatre.

“Don’t wait up for us,” Bucky called as he and Nat left, wagging his eyebrows, leaving his girlfriend to groan and his roommate to chuck a pillow at his retreating form. Coward.

Steve was wondering just how bad it would be to honor his ancestors with an Irish goodbye when she walks in.

He clocks her, instantly. How could he not? Her face has been on at least two magazines a month since she was sixteen. For a delirious, giddy second Steve thinks he could probably recognize her in his sleep. He could never forget the sound of her footsteps now, never could forget the shape of her and the fluidity of her walk and - okay, now he’s staring like a creep. Redirect.

When Steve extended an invitation to his gallery showing to Stark Industries, Miss Potts corresponded with him, so that’s who he expected to show up. He can’t lie, he was a bit disappointed that Natasha herself wouldn’t be there, but Bucky basically howled with laughter when he confided in him, so he counted that one as a pipe dream. He should have been grateful for Miss Potts even wanting to come, so when Natasha Stark walks through that door, rich brown hair falling around her face in curls, sleek black pantsuit hugging the curves of her waist, red-bottom kitten heels tap, tap, tapping across the floor, he almost slaps himself. Did he actually fall asleep standing up? The conversation he was having definitely had the power to knock him out.

He wants to excuse himself to go up to her right now, anything to make those eyes look at him, but come on, Steve knows the game. He thinks it’s one Natasha plays, so he waits. Plots. Half listens to conversations while keeping her in his peripheral vision.

She’s not really looking at his paintings, more like observing them as a background to her champagne, but Steve doesn’t have it in him to be miffed. Stark is a literal billionaire; Steve wouldn’t be surprised if she had an original Monet in her house.

But then, she stops dead in front of the Stark Tower painting and the hand that was clutching her champagne glass goes slightly lax.

Bingo.

Did he create that painting specifically so it would stop Natasha Stark dead in her steps before he swooped in to charm the girl? Of course not. That’s insane. Did he decide to display this particular painting at this exhibit because he thought Miss Potts might be so impressed with it that she’ll buy it instantly, show it to Natasha, and Natasha becomes so enamored she personally shows up Steve’s door, declaring that it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen and they kiss passionately in his doorframe?

….No, of course not. That’s insane.

She’s still staring in awe (he hopes) as he comes up behind her.

“Impressive building, isn’t it?” He says, hopefully smoothly, totally not deepening his voice an octave shut up Bucky.

He sees her start a little, turn to face him, and her eyes widen a fraction.

He takes a second just to really look at her before she chuckles and responds, “I’d say that I’m pretty impressed by it, but I might be personally biased. I don’t know how well the artist actually captured the seamless proportions.”

Steve may be a bit oblivious (no, not more than a bit, thank you Bucky) to women flirting with him, but the signs he sees in Natasha Stark he can’t be imagining. She’s composed, not a hair out of place, but her eyes are smoldering. Her body is leaning slightly towards him, like she can’t help it. Behind her red lips a tiny sliver of Crest-white teeth poke out, the beginnings of a flirty smile on her lips.

He responds, hopefully something witty, honestly half-hopefully playing it cool, half freaking out because there is no way his celebrity crush is flirting with him right now.

Steve hates the term “celebrity crush,” especially at his big age of 34, but there’s really no other way to define it. He’s had a crush on Natasha Stark probably since he was seventeen years old. She was always in the media, either for her always trendy fashion statements, engineering projects, MIT research awards, Stark Industries start-ups, and as they both got a little older, her social life. The trashier tabloids around that time were always documenting her clubbing outfits and although Steve could never overcome the shame of actually buying a copy of TMZ, doesn’t mean he didn’t “casually” skim over the copies in Walgreens.

He wasn’t a weirdo stalker; he didn’t try to find her address or force social situations now that he was making a bit more money. It’s simply that for as long as he can remember, since the first time he saw her interview on The Tonight Show in high school, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

And now she was less than a foot in front of him, flirting, complimenting (jury’s still out on that one) his artwork, smelling amazing and he better not fuck this up.

When they shake hands, her palm is calloused but soft, warm, and he completely envelops her hand, fingers stretching to her pulse point. Her wrist looks tiny in his grasp, and he hopes her genius hearing can’t make out his audible swallow.

They chat, taking laps around the exhibit, sipping champagne, and Steve does not care one bit that he is totally ignoring the rest of his guests. Natasha is currently laughing her way through a story of how she managed to hotwire her lawn mower to drive her to school after her driver said he wouldn’t take her to McDonald’s for breakfast. Her eyes are sparkling, soft hand with sleek maroon nails gripping his bicep for support as she doubles over in laughter. She has dimples. Wild horses would have to tear Steve away at this moment.

They talk a little more, sip a little more champagne, and he’s laughing loudly at a joke she’s made. She looks pleased with herself, simply watching him smile, and he is suddenly hit with the overwhelming urge to place a kiss at the tip of her button nose.

She tips her head all the way back to finish the last remaining drops of her drink, and Steve can’t help but stare. Natasha - Please, Steve, call me Toni - Toni is wearing a shoulder less top, so with her head thrown back, he can see the long, smooth column of her throat, leading to delicate collarbones. Her hair tumbles behind her with the action, wafting off a coconut scent. She must have also put a little perfume on her neck, because suddenly the air becomes heavy with the scent of peaches and vanilla. She brought her glass back down, mouth opening to say something, and that was unfair, because this automatically brought Steve’s eyes to her slightly smudged red lips, and the mark she left on the side of the glass. God, he wants her to leave the same lipstick mark on him.

Realizing he’s definitely been caught out already, Steve jerks his gaze up to her eyes. She smiles, and her pink tongue flicks out, catching a stray drop of champagne.

Steve wants to wrap a gentle but firm hand around that gorgeous neck. He wants to sink his teeth in and see how loud he can make her before he even takes her clothes off.

When she asks to take him home, it’s all he can do to stop the FUCK YEAH from coming out of his mouth before she even finishes the sentence.

*

They can’t stop kissing.

They kissed on the street waiting for Toni’s driver to pull up, they made out in the car (driver roll up the partition please), they kissed in the street outside Stark tower, they kissed in the lobby, and they stumbled their way into the elevator, kissing.

Toni gives him a bit of a cheeky, playfully rough shove (like she could ever really hurt him, don’t bruise his ego) against the elevator wall, and keeps accomplishing her mission of kissing all of the rational thought from Steve’s mind. He doesn’t mind her having the upper hand for a bit, too lost in pleasure and his own giddiness and disbelief.

She grips the back of his head, lightly scratching her nails down the back of his neck and he groans. She presses her hips against his, slightly gasping into his mouth when she feels what’s pressing into her stomach. She recovers quickly, but Steve still smirks internally. He saw that “oh fuck yeah” look in her eye.

She breaks them apart, and Steve chases her mouth. Toni smirks and walks her fingers up his chest, then grips his chin lightly between her forefinger and thumb.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” she says, all smooth and sexy like dark chocolate, but there’s a hint of a challenge in her voice. A hint of “make me.

Steve laughs, and decides that she’s had enough fun. Effortlessly, he flips their positions, pressing her a little firmer than necessary into the wall. He grabs the wrist of the hand that’s holding his chin and then grabs the other, squeezing both wrists in one hand and pinning them a little rough above her head. He doesn’t mind switching things up occasionally, but tonight he has to be in control. Has to show her how good he can make her feel, and has to take advantage of this opportunity for his high school self.

She’s looking up at him in slight disbelief, breathing harder, and Steve can’t help the low chuckle that escapes from his lips. He leans in close to her ear, whispers roughly, “I think the real question here, Stark, is how good you’re gonna be for me.”

He raises her wrists just a smidge higher above her head, enough that she has a little bit of a strain in her ankles, and slips a knee between her legs, pressing upward.

A tiny, needy “mmph escapes her mouth at the contact, and it’s all Steve can do to stop himself from coming right there. He needs that sound from her again, needs it louder.

“Wow, didn’t know you had it in you, boy scout,” Toni quips, voice oozing confidence but also a bit breathless. She’s subtly trying to rock her hips against his knee, and he takes one large palm to pin her hip against the wall. She moves when he says she can.

He grabs her hips firmly and drags the apex of her legs up and down the length of his thigh, creating slow, maddening friction, and Toni’s head falls back.

“In me? Aw, you’re just dying for something in you right now, aren’t you, pretty girl,” Steve coos, feeling wetness start to dampen his jeans.

Toni’s panting a bit now, but of course she can’t let him have the upper hand too easy. “Well, based on whatever is pressing very insistently upon my stomach, Mr. Rogers, it seems like you’re the one dying here.”

He kisses her again, forcefully, and mumbles against her lips, “Paintbrush in my pants or I’m just happy to see you?”

Toni laughs, loud, caught off guard, and Steve takes a second to admire her before he drops her wrists, and hoists her legs up and over his hips.

Toni squeals at the sudden lift, legs and arms wrapping around him like a vice.

She hoists herself up a little, and then looks down at him, causing her long hair to tumble around the both of them. Steve takes one hand from under her ass, shifting her weight across one arm (pretending not to preen at Toni’s soft “holy shit”) before tucking her hair behind her ears.

Her face looks shocked for a moment, and then melts into a look he can’t decipher. Before he has the chance to ask her, she swoops in, gripping the back of his head tightly and pulling his lips to meet her own.

“Show me how happy, Rogers,” Toni says huskily against his mouth, before slipping her tongue between his lips, sliding against his own. She tastes like champagne and fresh mint leaves and he is so fucking hard.

He growls slightly, hands gripping her ass hard, and Toni lets out a startled moan at the firm contact. “With pleasure.” Steve husks, nipping and kissing along her neck as the elevator door dings open, leading them to the penthouse floor.

“Just walk down the hallway and turn to the - Oh my God - yeah, turn to the - mmmph Steve!- To the left.” Toni is gasping, fingernails digging into the meat of his shoulders as he multitasks walking and giving Toni as many hickies as humanly possible.

Once inside the room, he kicks the door shut and throws Toni on her bed, mouth quirking up at her little bounce. He strokes himself over his jeans as she looks up at him through her lashes, chest heaving up and down.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Steve says, unable to help himself. He likes how she can hold her head so high when she’s flirting salaciously, but a true genuine compliment makes her cheeks flush pink and eyes unable to hold his gaze.

“Haven’t even seen my best angles yet,” she quips, but her thighs rubbing together gives her away. She’s probably soaked through her underwear by now and that thought makes Steve’s mouth water and his cock throb against the restricting fabric of his pants.

He chuckles, stepping closer, closer, then lowering his body completely over Toni’s. She’s so tiny under him. Steve knew that he looked good once he “glowed up” as Natasha once called it, but he honestly didn’t pay that much attention to his physique once he started working out. He liked to go on runs and lift weights at the gym to keep his body healthy and his mind active. Steve knew how absorbed he could get into his art when he was in the studio, so he had to force himself outside so he doesn’t develop early onset arthritis or something.

Now he can’t help but thank God he’d been so consistent with his workout routine when he notices Toni’s eyes tracking the shifting muscles in his bicep as he props himself above her on his forearms. He can’t help it; he flexes a little bit more than necessary, ego inflating as Toni’s mouth actually drops open and her tongue runs across her teeth.

Her legs automatically part to let him in the cradle of her thighs, and both of them groan when Steve’s very fucking hard dick brushes against her clothed pussy. Steve can’t help but give a couple light, mock thrusts, creating maddening, teasing friction on her clit, and Toni chokes on a moan, her hand flying out to twist a bedsheet in her grasp.

God, she’s so sensitive. It makes Steve want to rip her pants off and plunge into her just to hear her scream of pleasure. If she’s already gripping the sheets from some light dry humping, he can’t wait to see what she’ll do when he’s pounding her little pussy with his thumb torturing her clit.

“I plan on discovering all your angles, Toni. I can’t imagine you have a bad one, especially,” he gives a long, slow grind against her hips and Toni moans again, “like this.”

“Oh my God, so not a boy scout, remember that,” Toni gasps, seemingly to herself, and before Steve can inquire, she’s pushing up at his chest, tugging at his dress shirt. “If this doesn’t come off in the next two seconds, Steve, I think I might explode and that is a real threat.”

Any joke Steve could attempt to make dies when she pops the last button on his button-up, soft mouth instantly attaching itself to his chest, his abs. Her tongue gives a long lick to a crevice dangerously nearing his belt line, and Steve gently but firmly tilts her chin up.

She gives him a pout, no doubtably about to give him some mouth, when he reaches out and squeezes her clothed breast, roughly circling the area of her nipple with his open palm.

Toni lets out a low whine as Steve says, “There is no way you are making me come before I can even get you naked.”

Toni smirks, dangerously, and lifts her arms up oh-so innocently.

He slides her shirt up and off, trying not to drool at the black lace bra she’s wearing underneath, and starts for the button on her pants at the same time she goes for his belt.

It’s hard to see with just the city lights coming in through the window. They’re a mess of hands and laughter, and after a second Toni grasps Steve’s hands in hers, giggling, “Okay, wait. Rock, paper, scissors, and the winner gets to remove the loser’s pants first.”

Steve nodded mock seriously, enjoying the way he was making Toni stifle her giggles. He wanted to hear that sound again and again and again. “I’m all about fairness.”

They play, and Toni wins the first round. She makes a cry of victory and basically launches herself to his belt, but Steve grips her wrists, fitting both easily in one hand as he clicks his tongue.

“Now, Miss Stark, aren’t the rules of rock, paper, scissors always two out of three?”

Toni rolls her eyes dramatically, like he’s asking her to take out the trash instead of desperately trying to get his hand down her pants.

“Okay, Eagle Scout, have it your way.”

They play two more rounds, the last one ending in Steve’s “rock” elegantly crushing Toni’s “scissors.”

Toni sighs, looking up at him, “You know, if we were hooking up and you were a girl, there’s a great ‘scissoring’ joke somewhere in here - eek!”

Her words get cut off as Steve grabs both of her legs and yanks her to the edge of the bed, her ass almost falling off the edge. Toni looks up at him incredulously, stunned he could move her so far so fast, and he just gives her the type of sexy, lazy grin he thinks she’d like, and her hips jerk from where he’s pinning them in place.

“To the winner go the spoils, I believe” Steve says, slowly flicking open the button of her pants and dragging her pants down, down, down her soft thighs.

She’s wearing a lacy black thong that matches her bra, and Steve can’t hold back a groan when he sees the patch of slightly darker black fabric at her entrance. He bets she would be so tight and warm to slide into right now.

He presses his nose into her, inhaling deep. God, she smells so good. Steve is planning on teasing the shit out of her, but he can’t help himself; his tongue darts out and gives a long, slow lick from her entrance to her clit, stopping to softly suck at the outline of the bud through the fabric.

Not for long, though; Toni barely has the chance to arch her back and let out a hoarse scream at the unexpected contact before Steve is gone, pressing kisses and bites into her inner thighs as he plays with the seam of her panties right next to her entrance.

She’s whimpering and whining, letting out little babbles and moans as he teases her further, barely letting his fingers graze her clit before he’s tugging her underwear up hard, making the fabric strain against her bud, creating friction he knows will drive her insane.

It works. Toni lets out a loud moan, circling her hips in the air as Steve presses on the fabric now covering and straining against her dripping hole.

He rubs his thumb against her entrance in circles, slightly pushing up into the fabric, a hint of what’s gonna be stuffing her perfect pussy soon. She’s gonna go crazy for it. Steve can tell by the way she’s already so worked up, practically sobbing and soaking his hand all from a few light touches.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he said in awe, not taking his eyes off her pussy. “I haven’t even really started yet.”

He heard Toni let out a whimper at his words, but her voice was confident, almost absentminded when she spoke.

“Well, then you better start before I get bored.”

Steve looked up at her in shock, a faux innocent expression upon her face. Her brown eyes twinkled with mischief, betraying her true intentions, and the blue eyed man felt a wide, nearly wicked grin split his lips. Looks like Miss Stark here is a brat. Luckily, he is very equipped to handle that.

Without breaking eye contact, he raises himself up from her legs and flips her over, being a little extra rough in his manhandling. He’s got to remind her who’s in charge here, after all.

She lets out a yelp as she adjusts herself to prop herself up on her elbows, looking back up at him from over her shoulder.

Natasha Stark was currently bent over in front of him, giving him the sexiest look he’s ever seen in his life, in nothing but a scrap of lace falling down from her perky breasts, her ass firm and perfectly round. Steve was pretty sure his hindbrain was doing a victory lap right now. If he wasn’t in front of her, he would have pumped his fist in the air like a teenager.

He breaks her gaze to focus fully on the perfect ass in front of him, biting his lip as he roughly massages a cheek with one hand while undoing his belt with the other.

“Holy shit,” Toni’s voice is low with need, and it makes his cock twitch painfully in his pants as he fumbles to get this damn belt off faster. “That’s literally the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life Steve, honest to god, I didn’t even know men could take off their belt with one hand, I’m literally gonna think about this for the rest of my life - holy shit, is that your dick? Steve. That’s the most perfect dick I’ve ever seen, but news flash that thing is huge so I’m not sure where you think you’re putting it- fuck!”

Steve cut off her rambling by sliding the head of his cock up and down her slit, gathering her wetness, and sliding his head all over her clit.

“Nevermind,” Toni pants, hips pushing back against his, trying desperately to catch his head in her entrance but he pulls back a bit too far for her to reach every time. “Never-fucking-mind, I know exactly where you’re putting your cock and it is inside me, now, pronto - oh my goooood.”

The brunette lets out a loud moan, her elbows shaking as her head tips forward in pleasure, making her hair fall around her face. He had caught her off guard, while he was busy driving her crazy with the pressure on her clit, he slid a single finger inside of her, shallowly fucking her with the digit.

“Funny,” Steve says, enraptured by the image of her pussy swallowing his finger. “How your mouth closes when I open you down here.”

Toni lifts her head up and whips her head around her shoulder to glare at him, her hair falling all to one side with the action. She opens her mouth, and Steve wants to hear her scream more than he wants to hear whatever bratty response she’s cooked up, so on the next slide, he slips in two fingers, picking up his pace, fingers curling along her walls with each thrust.

Toni’s elbows give out from underneath her, and she nearly screams, her cheek flat against her sheets, red nails ripping down the comforter.

“Fuck, Steve,” she cries, trying to push her hips back into him but stopping with a yelp when he brings his hand down hard against her ass.

“Don’t get greedy, baby,” Steve says, his gentle words at complete opposite with how his fingers fuck her roughly. “You’ll take what I give you and you’ll say thank you.”

“Fuck.”

Steve takes a second to admire the shiny, dark locks of her hair spread out around her like a halo, sliding his fingers gently through the hair at her scalp. He sees her eyes flutter shut at the soft motion, then snap open along with her mouth when he suddenly fists, pulling the hair at the back of her hair tight, forcing her gorgeous eyes to meet his.

He clicks his tongue, slowing his pace down slightly, angling his fingers just a little below her g-spot to drive her crazy.

“That didn’t sound like ‘thank you Steve’ to me, sweetheart.”

Toni whined at the loss of her impending orgasm, squirming her hips as much as she could with Steve pinning her with his hands and his stare. Like hell she’ll break that easy.

“Give me something to thank you for then, handsome.” She tries to sound catty, but her words come out more slurred with need than she’d prefer.

His fingers pause inside of her, and Toni lets out a wounded noise. God, this woman is fucking electric. He loves how she can keep up with him, how her personality matches her in the bedroom. It makes earning her submission so much more worth it.

He releases his hold on her hair, but lets his hand travel down the alluring arch of her back, stopping once to press the small of her back firmly down on the bed, sending the clear signal she was to remain bent over.

He sinks to his knees and can’t help but smirk at the audible gasp Toni lets out at the sight, neck straining to take him in.

“You know, I’m really excited to learn how much back talk you can manage when I’m pounding you out,” Steve says, and before she has the chance to reply, he opens his mouth, flicking his tongue over her clit a few times, then letting his tongue plunge into her without warning.

Her inner walls immediately tighten on his tongue, hearing Toni’s shriek of his name. She’s already clamping down on him like a vice, walls sucking at his tongue when he thrusts it in and out like her pussy can’t bear to be separated from any part of him. The mere thought of putting his dick in her tight, warm cunt makes him almost come just from eating her out. He definitely needs to get her off before he puts his dick inside her. He has no idea how long he can hold out once he’s inside of her. Steve is thinking that old Dodgers stats couldn’t stave off an orgasm once he was inside her like a cake can’t bake in a freezer.

If Toni sounded wild before, she’s wrecked when he puts his tongue in her.

Steve takes his time to work his way in. Her thighs are shaking where he’s gripping them and he can hear muffled whimpers where her face is presumably pressed into the mattress.

He wants to dirty talk her into moaning more, he can’t get enough of that sound, but with his mouth, ahem, occupied he’ll settle for her walls strangling his tongue once he brings two fingers up to rub circles over her bud.

The auditory reaction is instantaneous; he hears her scream, just like he wanted, letting out mindless babbles of “Steve, and “please” and “so good.”

He rubs a little firmer, a little faster, and Toni’s moans reach a pitch he knows means she’s close.

“I’m- I’m gonna-” Toni is gasping, writhing for it, fucking out of her mind desperate for an orgasm.

He stops.

Toni lets out a near wail as Steve stands up, wiping the back of his mouth, lightly stroking her entrance in a soothing motion. It’s not nearly enough to continue her peak, but it’s enough of a reassurance that he’s not going anywhere. She pins him with a glare that could melt iron, but honestly it just makes his dick twitch. He flashes a grin at her that definitely makes her wetter if the throbbing beneath his fingertips is any indication.

“Are you ready to say ‘please?’”

“Are you ready to finally-ahhhh-”

Steve rubs his cockhead against her entrance, applying just the slightest bit of pressure. He leans down, bracing himself on his forearm next to her head. His whole body covers her, and Steve knows he has no right, but he feels this rush of possessiveness. If he can only have her for tonight, he will make sure it is a night she never forgets.

He puts his mouth close to her ear, and pins her hip in place when she gives him a full body shudder.

“Come on, baby,” he coos gently in her ear, touching all over her ass, her inner thighs; squeezing her hips and sides of her breasts, working her up to exactly where he wants her. “I know you were so close. And I know you’re gonna come so nice and hard all over my dick, sugar. Do you think you could do that for me? Can you make a mess on me? Hmm?”

Steve is aware of his Brooklyn accent slowly coming in, unable to stop it, but thinks it seems to be doing it for Toni by the indication of her squirming.

“Fuck, Steve!” Toni whines, and her voice is so feminine and pouty, it makes him nip at her shoulder to keep him from groaning straight in her ear.

He pushes in barely, only going as far to stretch the tight ring of muscle at her entrance, and husks against her ear, “Are you gonna be my good girl and say please?”

She breaks. “Fuck, yes, I’m your good girl, I’m yours, just please, please fuck me Steve I need it so bad, I need you so bad, more badly than I’ve ever needed anythin-AHHH!”

He pushes in hard, from tip to base, pulling out almost completely, and thrusting like that a few more times. He looks between them, and the sight of his balls slapping against her and her perfect ass bouncing against his hips have him gritting his teeth.

At the first press of his cock into her, Steve can practically see the brat drain out of her. Her elbows give out from underneath her, her body goes pliant underneath him, moaning and crying and whimpering all for him. She won’t stop making cute little noises and sounds of his name and it is getting Steve a lot closer than he should be.

“How does that dick feel in you, babygirl, hm? Use your words and tell me.” Steve’s voice is firm, but strained against the rhythm of his hard thrusts.

“Fuck, Steve, your dick feels so fucking good! Please don’t stop, God, please don’t stop-”

“Good girl, now what do you say to me when I’m making you feel this good, hm? Use-your- manners.” He punctuates each word with a hard thrust because he needs to make her come, like, now. The little ah-ah-ah’s she’s making are going to have him there in an embarrassingly short time.

“S-shit, T-thank you, Steve.” Toni hiccups, and Steve smilies against her neck. He fists her hair roughly to turn her face towards him and capture her mouth in a bruising kiss. He slips a hand between the mattress and her body, rubs her clit in firm, hard circles, and swallows the scream she lets out.

Against her mouth, he mumbles, “My baby, come for me,” and she obeys, coming on his cock like her body belongs to him. That thought, combined with the insanely tight squeezing of her walls, makes him empty out inside her with a shout.

With a groan, Steve pulls out and rolls beside her, not wanting to crush the smaller woman with his significantly larger frame.

He takes a second just to breathe, assuming she’s doing the same thing, but sits up a moment after and half-stumbles to her bathroom, seeking a washcloth and some cool water to soak it in. When one finishes fucking the shit out of one’s celebrity crush (and a very beautiful, funny, charismatic woman), a man does not leave a woman just lying there in his own…release. Ew. Steve was a guy, and even he knew how gross that was.

And, even though this was technically still only a hookup so far, Steve couldn’t fight this very vocal part of his hindbrain that demanded he take care of Toni, make sure she’s safe, comfortable, and provided for. He wants to fist fight any ill will that heads her way. These feelings are especially confusing for Steve post-most-intense-orgasm-of-his-life brain fog, so he’ll think about that later. First, washcloth.

He manages to find a nice white ceramic bowl with gold edges, and fills it up with cold water. He grabs a few washcloths with the Hermés logo stitched on. Even with his recent, newfound smash success as an artist, this tower was probably worth a hundred thousand times his own existence.

Steve enters back into the bedroom, where the progress Toni has made appears to be flipping from her stomach onto her back again.

When he sits down beside her, she turns her head to gaze at him. She doesn’t say anything, but when she gives him a little soft smile, completely at odds with the rough sex they just engaged in moments prior, Steve decides not to either. He returns her almost-bashful smile, and decides actions can do the talking for him.

He dips the towel in the bowl, rings it out, and then carefully wipes the sweat off of Toni’s forehead, upper lip, and at her temples. He moves down to the apex of her thighs, and quietly asks her to tilt her hips up. That way he can get underneath her, thoroughly wiping her down to make sure there’s none of his come making a mess out of her. Once he’s done with her, he gives himself a rough wiping down with a fresh cloth before setting the items to the side. Still wordlessly, he scoops Natasha up and smiles when she gives a yelp, gently smacking his chest in surprise. He simply maneuvers them to the head of the bed, and adjusts them so he’s sitting slightly up, while she’s laying on his chest, one of his arms wrapped firmly around her while the other cushions his head.

Steve is rubbing slow circles on her shoulder, eyes drooping, when Natasha speaks up.

“My driver Happy can take you home, if you want.” She whispers, voice hesitant.

“Oh.” Steve whispers back. He’s not sure why they’re whispering. He swallows, and curses himself for being disappointed. Steve wasn’t expecting her to ask him to spend the night. It wasn’t a date. They left his gallery with the clear intention of hooking up and nothing more.

Toni starts to draw patterns on his thighs. He’s looking down at her, but she won’t meet his gaze. Even in the moonlight, Steve can see the blush on her cheeks.

“It is getting late, though. It would be a pretty bitch move for me to wake Happy up at this hour. So you could just stay the night, also,” she looks up at him tentatively, biting her lower lip. “Only if you wanted.”

Steve can’t fight the wide grin splitting over his face, and talks at a normal volume, “Well, we wouldn’t want to make Happy Grumpy, would we?”

Toni’s nerves seem to slide off her like a waterfall, her shoulders relaxing as she snorts in laughter and smacks his chest. “Jesus, Rogers, you’re a bigger nerd than me. And I graduated from MIT.”

Steve hits her with a mock-side eye. “You callin’ me Dopey?”

His amazing joke is met with a pillow in the face, but his smile doesn’t leave his face the rest of the night, even in sleep.

*

The best night of Steve’s life is shortly followed by what he determines to be the best morning of his life.

He awakens soft and slow, in what he can determine from his limited senses, in the comfiest bed he’s ever been in. His modest full size bed with the custom mattress he had allowed himself to splurge on had nothing on this. Maybe he needs to invest in a California king. Makes sense Toni would be a size queen. He smirks to himself at the innuendo, and then it breaks into a genuine, sleepy grin as the memories of Toni and what they had done last night come flooding to him.

The comforter is soft against his skin, and there’s a scent of vanilla and something headier in the air. The scent alone makes his dick twitch, morning wood happily coming to life. He hears a little giggle, and before he even knows why, the sound makes his mouth twitch up more. He feels soft kisses being pressed to his neck, and he lets out a soft groan that turns into a moan when delicate fingers start gently stroking his cock.

At this, he finally cracks an eye open to Toni’s mischievous smile.

He’s expecting a “Morning handsome,” not her saying, “Why are you smiling in your sleep like a creep?”

He laughs, and then levels his smirk at her. He lets his eyes run down her naked form, covers just pulled up around her waist. She’s topless, and that makes him give her a her slow, wicked grin.

“I have everything to be smiling about,” he says, and promptly dives on top of her.

She gives a shriek of surprise, then a laugh, then a moan, and the rest of the morning passes like a dream coated in molasses. Steve knows he is going to play back these twelve hours in his head until his mind is begging him to focus on something else. How she was slowly moving her mouth up and down his dick, tongue lathering at his slit, taking his hand massaging her scalp and pressing it down into her neck, big, deceptively innocent eyes rolling back when he gave her head an experimental push downward. Her moaning when he starts to fuck her face in earnest.

He buries his face in her thighs, spreading her open and pinning her in place like his little butterfly. He doesn’t allow her to squirm away as he makes her come again and again on his face, only stopping when there are literal tears sparkling in her eyes as she begs for his dick again.

At least two hours pass before they’re both stationary in bed again, panting, and Steve still can’t keep the stupid grin from off his face.

“Jesus, Rogers,” Toni says, and Steve can’t help but let his ego inflate on how thoroughly fucked she appears and sounds. If it was up to him, she would sound like that and be naked forever. “You know, I had you pegged for the ‘volunteers at the Ronald McDonald house and surprises orphanages dressed up as Santa Claus’ type. Not the “I’m gonna fuck your brains out and make you come the hardest you ever have in your entire life” type.

His ego inflates more, if it was humanly possible at all. He’s gonna be replaying the sound of her saying that when he needs to get himself off for the next few years, at least.

“Well, who says it can’t be both? I do a mean Santa Claus laugh,” Steve says, and then demonstrates without thinking. He’s sure it’s dumb, and probably more than a little cringe, but it makes Toni laugh loudly. She always laughs loudly, he realizes, like she’s not expecting someone to try to draw the sound out of her. Which is insane to him. If he was privileged enough to hear that laugh of hers sooner, he would have joined the circus as a real McDonald if he thought it could keep that gorgeous giggle blessing his ears.

He rolls over to face her, and she follows suit. She’s looking at him mirthfully, but she’s characteristically quiet, eyes darting across his face like she’s analyzing him. He’s been trying to compare Tabloid Toni to the Very Real Toni he’s experiencing before his eyes, and it’s like looking in a funhouse mirror. Sure, there’s elements of Toni that he sees that the media exaggerates; her brashness, her sharp tongue, her lack of a filter. Her tendency to walk with an air of superiority. But there’s so much he thinks goes unnoticed. Like, how she can exist in silence. He once read a very scathing comment in the YouTube comment section of her 73 questions with vogue, how “that blabby bitch can never shut up.” Steve sees she’s a talker, definitely, but like now for existence, she can exist in peace and provide it.

He noticed all the fine, unique art that dotted her apartment walls, even though she claims she’s no fan. He sees her fridge full of groceries and dirty dishes in the sink, even though he’s sure she can afford to hire a maid and a cook a hundred times over. It’s like he always was infatuated with her on a surface level, but now, staring into her chocolate brown eyes, it’s like he opened the door to her soul and walked right in. It’s fast, and scary, and his feelings are definitely way too intense after they’ve only known each other for twelve hours. He hadn’t even asked her on a date.

Wait. Could he ask her?

He’d basically been floating on cloud nine this entire experience, only daring to focus on what’s in front of him lest he miss any part of Toni. But now, sitting in the postglow, he allows his mind to wander. She invited him to stay the night. She hadn’t kicked him out as soon as he opened his eyes. She’d wanted to have sex with him again! Multiple rounds! That had to mean something, right?

Steve would have to be a downright idiot to realize that Toni stark was eons out of his league. Actual light years. This whole interaction, right down to their meeting, had been an insane stroke of luck. Yeah, Steve was starting to make a little more money to be comfortable and gain a little more fame in the art world, but she was Toni Stark. She was worth billions, had made billions. She probably had prince’s of other countries sliding in her DM’s. Would she really want to seriously pursue a relationship with a “struggling artist?”

He was gnawing on his inner cheek in thought, absentmindedly stroking her hair. He didn’t notice her watching him intently until he felt a manicured nail boop his nose, going cross eyed to look at it.

“Whatever you’re pondering so intently Rogers, how about you ruminate over breakfast? I make a mean omelet.”

Steve grins, ready to reply that he would cook, obviously, while his lady lazed in bed, when a shrill alarm cut through their peace.

“Fuck!” Toni curses, then shoots up wildly, tripping over the covers tangling at her feet and searching wildly for her phone on the ground.

“Uh, are we under attack?” Steve asks, baffled. He’s not covering his ears against the shrill sound of the alarm because he’s pretty sure that visual will give Toni the ick, so he withstands the shriek of the warning of the incoming alien invasion as best as he can.

“You aren’t, but I so am. I programmed that ringtone special, meaning if it goes off I’ve missed at least three of Pepper’s calls. And that is a DEFCON 5 level threat. Get ready to say goodbye to the best pussy you ever got.”

Steve snorts, but doesn’t deny it, and catches Toni’s proud smirk before she lets out a victory cry at finding her phone.

She answers and Steve winces, what he assumes to be Pepper Pott’s piercing shout even more painful than the alarm.

Toni’s dancing around the room, trying to hop into clothes while tucking her phone between her shoulder and her head.

“No, Pepper, of course I didn’t forget about the shareholder meeting today - Yes, I know it’s one of the only meetings I have to go to since I shoveled my business onto you-hey! I don’t think we should move on so quickly from you literally crying when I made you CEO - no, those were not tears of despair Pep, I can tell - yes, I am on my way, five minutes, oh no I’m actually losing you through a tunnel - “

She holds the phone to Steve and he grins at her ridiculousness but plays along, cupping his hand around the microphone and letting out his best crackling static impression.

He barely hears Pepper’s warning of “Natasha Edwina Stark-”

Toni hangs up the phone, sighing in relief, and somehow she’s gotten fully dressed in a casual navy blue suit with a blue striped button down. Her hair still looks a little sexed up, but hey, Steve isn’t complaining. If he was her man, he’d send her to every meeting dripping with his - okay, yep, not a productive train of thought to follow.

“So, it turns out I’m needed to help fend off the oncoming alien invasion. Or Pepper is gonna send me up into space tied to a rocket to act as a human sacrifice.”

Steve chuckles, slowly starting to stand up and gather his clothes. “Sounds to me like Pepper just wants to send them an example of a perfect human specimen. It’s a one in a million opportunity, Stark.”

Toni flushes dark red, and Steve is delighted. He’s starting to get the feeling she does most of the flirting in her personal encounters, so it’s nice to keep her on her toes.

“Wow Steve, ‘perfect human specimen’ is making my STEM-inist heart sing,” she replies dryly, but her eyes give away her pleasure. “Just for that, I think you deserve my number. Y’know, an artist can’t be separated from his muse of a perfect specimen,” She flutters her eyelashes, dramatically splaying a hand across her chest. Her antics are cute, but Steve senses a layer of true insecurity behind the twitching of her foot. Does she seriously think he wouldn’t take her number? Maybe he’s no brainiac, but he doesn’t have just empty matter between his ears. Contrary to popular belief by Bucky.

“You better,” he tells Stark, pulling his phone out from his jeans pocket, and means every word.

She beams, and talks while he types. “Two-one-two, four-six-oh, two-three-seven-ohshitimEIGHT!” She snatches her wallet and keys from the bedside table, talking to him at rapid speed as she runs for the doorway. “Take your time, eat whatever is in the fridge if you want, seriously make yourself at home, but please don’t steal my shit, actually do, I don’t care, text me! Oh, and it’s seven.” She made to leave the doorway, but then threw him a smile. “Text me, Rogers.”

He watches the doorway for at least five more minutes with a dopey look on his face, daydreaming about the numbers she put in his phone. Her number! That he could text! That she wanted him to text her with. Fuck being casual, he wanted her and know that he could fairly assume she wanted him to, nothing was going to be in his way. He’ll text her when she’s done tonight at seven p.m, just like she had asked.

*

“Are you perfecting your technique of manifesting a text back by staring a hole through the phone in your screen?”

Bucky’s (annoying) voice came from behind him, and Steve threw him the finger without looking away from the text thread on his screen.

Friday, 7:02 p.m.

Steve: Hey Stark, it’s Steve :) Hope your meeting went well today and I’m not texting you from space.

Saturday, 5:37 p.m.

Steve: Are you free tonight? My favorite Italian place had a reservation open up. I could pick you up?

Monday, 1:20 p.m.

Steve: You OK?

Four days had passed since the best night of his life, and since then it was literal radio silence. Steve didn’t consider himself a person who got stunned often, but the sudden blockage made his jaw slack. Had he done something? Was his first text cringey? Had he offended her with his meeting?

When he asked Bucky about it, his friend had merely shrugged and told him to give it time.

“It took Nat a full week to give me a text back and to look at me more than once. And now look where we are!” Bucky flexed his hand, showing off his new engagement ring. Steve knew he meant to be reassuring, but he was pretty sure Bucky just wanted to brag about his engagement. He had actually proposed over the weekend, and it was the first thing Bucky had exploded on him with when Steve walked in after Toni’s. Steve knew his friend was planning on proposing, but had never told him when, so he was ecstatic for his best buddy, and made a mental note to give Natasha a big congratulatory hug once he saw her again.

But now, after four days of being ghosted, Steve felt ugly tendrils of jealousy he fought to keep off his face.

“It would be better if she just ghosted me,” he groused to Bucky, twisting on the couch to show him his phone. “It doesn’t even say ‘delivered.’ It’s just green.”

At the sight of the screen, Bucky’s eyes widened, and he looked at Steve with an uncharacteristically pained expression that always meant he felt bad for Steve, which always meant something bad for Steve. Bucky’s empathy did not come easy.

He frowns, not liking to be kept out of the loop. “What is it?”

Bucky winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “I could be wrong, but one time after Nat and I had a fight, I tried texting her and…”

“Come on, Buck, spit it out!”

“Green doesn’t mean ‘not sent’. Green means blocked. I’m sorry dude. Was it green when you first sent it?”

Steve can only stare, dumbfounded for a few moments. She blocked him? How could you block someone without even getting their number first? It was definitely green when he first sent it.

He voices this to Bucky, and the latter shrugs.

“You said this girl was like a tech genius, right? Maybe she figured it out. I’m so sorry man, she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Steve frowned at his screen once more. Upon Bucky’s engagement announcement, Steve decided to keep the identity of his hookup a secret. No doubt the news of Steve hooking up with Toni Stark would send Bucky into a spiral of congratulations and hysterical laughter, and he just wanted his friend to focus on his fiancè. He was planning on telling Buck as soon as he got a text back, but now…

Steve swallowed, and turned off his phone. That was that.

“Thanks Buck. You’re right, she doesn’t.”

But after he said that, Steve couldn’t help but feel like it was him who was missing something.