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#team as family
leverage-ot3 · 1 month
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okay I absolutely get and adore harry being oblivious about ot3 developments, but consider:
after breanna makes it explicitly clear she’s queer in the card game job, harry starts Researching™
he’s trying to be good, be better. he likes this girl and wants to be there to support her and be her friend, someone she can trust. it doesn’t help that she’s around the same age as his daughter, who barely wants to associate with him anymore
he learns breanna is queer and dives into researching. watching TED talks in his spare time. reading ebooks on his phone in between playing roles in a con (bringing a physical book is less convenient and he doesn’t want to wave around the fact that he’s researching like he’s trying to be performative about it). he reads about legislation and book bans and wonders about how they could work their magic through a con to fix those things. he reads about asexuality and recognizes the flag colors from the sticker on breanna’s laptop, which he files away for later
he learns a lot! he has been peripherally aware of queer stuff- it’s kind of hard not to be in the 2020s, but now he is much more informed on a lot of issues. he has memorized at least 50 different labels and terms and has an index of resources in his head (and on his phone) if anyone might need them. he wants to understand the people he loves and cares about, whether it’s breanna or one of his daughter’s friends, or anyone in his life that is queer and he doesn’t know it yet. he wants to be ready and prepared to support them!
he learns about sapphicness and bisexuality and intersex rights and the gender spectrum. he learns about karyotypes and stonewall and other queer history. he learns about kink (blushing, but still reads because it’s important!) and relationship diversity… which leads him to discover the term polyamory
he tries not to actively apply the terms he has learned on the people in his life because he knows it’s wrong to assume things about other people. BUT. harry spends a few days reflecting on parker, hardison and eliot’s interactions and wonders. he thinks about the long hugs and lack of personal space and near telepathic communication not just between parker and hardison, but parker and eliot AND hardison and eliot. how parker knows how to make eliot take care of himself, how he knows when she forgets to eat because she’s so hyperfixated on planning a con. how parker jumps on his back for fun and no matter what, he always catches her. hardison’s absence is felt when he’s gone, deeply by the both of them.
it could just be a deep friendship, he knows. they have been working and living together for over a decade, of course they would be close!!! maybe they could even be queerplatonic! (another new word he learned!)
but. still. he quietly observes, watches closely, and thinks.
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autisticlancemcclain · 6 months
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“Hey Keith.”
Keith, who is not a twelve year old child, easily ignores Lance’s dramatic flop forward, arms hooked over the back of the couch. He glances out of the corner of his eye and finds Lance already looking at him. He grins when he notices Keith looking. Keith rolls his eyes, not even bothering to try and tamp down his own smile.
“Keith,” Lance says again.
“Mm,” Keith responds.
Lance doesn’t say anything for a moment. Keith can hear his legs kicking. He’s so fucking — he’s so fucking. Ugh. Keith is going to — bite him, or something.
Lance hums, dark eyes tracing over the other people in the room. There’s something Keith can’t name in his expression, something sharp in those deep browns that Keith recognises; the look he gets when he lines up a perfect shot, when he stands grinning in the middle of the training room pointing his broadsword at Keith in challenge, when he leans in close, breaths heavy and teeth clamped lightly on the lobe of his ear. There’s amusement, there; mischief.
“Keith,” Lance says again, face schooled into something prim and serious — but his eyes don’t change. Keith hides a smile. “You need a boyfriend.”
Across the room, Shiro chokes. Pidge’s tablet clatters to the floor. Hunk’s jaw drops. Allura’s hand claps over her mouth. Coran, a notable outlier, watches them with a knowing smile.
Keith, suddenly, gets the game.
Like any of their planned missions, Keith plays along. He schools his face into something casual and unbothered, looking to the side with a shrug.
“Well, there’s this one guy I’m into.”
Some kind of deranged groaning noise eeks its way out of Shiro’s throat. Hunk appears to be praying for Lance’s soul. Keith is, suddenly, more amused than he’s ever been in his life.
“Oh?”
The corner of Lance’s mouth twitches. Keith’s hand matches it, struck with the urge to press his thumb to his cupid’s bow.
“Mhm. He’s cute, but…very dumb.”
A strangled garb of a sentence comes from Pidge. She reaches out like she wants to pinch Lance’s mouth with secondhand mortification. The twitching of Lance’s mouth gets faster.
“No way!” he exclaims, comically surprised look on his face. “What’s his name?”
Coran snorts. Keith looks over at him, unable to hold back his smirk any longer.
“…Lance.”
Lance gasps. So does the rest of the room.
“He’s got the same name as me?” He presses his hand to his chest, a ridiculous caricature, now, mouth dropped exaggeratedly wide. “Nice!”
“For fuck’s sake!” Hunk curses. Shiro wheezes and falls to the floor. He twitches a little. Something must be going around. Coran laughs out loud.
Keith grins, wide and ridiculous and showing his teeth. Lance meets his smile, equally as unrestrained, and this isn’t how they talked about doing this but it’s a thousand times more fun and a million times funnier.
Keith looks away, making eye contact with Allura and winking. She looks at him like he has four heads.
“Yeah,” Keith agrees. “He’s real cute. Curly hair, big brown eyes. One of those pretty boys.”
Lance scoffs. “Bet he’s ditzy, then.”
“Oh, a little. I love him, though. He makes me laugh.”
Lance does some dorky little half flip move, rolling over the back of the couch and landing with his head sprawled on Keith’s lap, grinning up at him.
“Does he?”
Keith hums, reaching down to run his fingers over Lance’s cheekbones, tracing the bump of his nose. “Yep.”
“Ugh. He sounds like the worst. You have garbage taste.”
“I dunno. I really, really love him.” He leans in close. His hair flips into Lance’s face, making his nose wrinkle. Keith laughs. “He makes me happy.”
“What the fuck is going on,” Shiro croaks.
Pidge nods frantically. “We’re in a mirror realm, we gotta be, something’s not —”
“You should date me instead,” Lance says. There’s a question in his eyes; a challenge.
They say, are we ready?
And Keith responds by brushing the hair out of his face, cupping his cheeks, and kissing him.
“About time,” Coran says.
Keith smiles, and kisses him harder.
———
based on this post
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mayzi33 · 4 months
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I like to think all the main four (Sonic, Tails, Knuckles and Amy) are protective over eachother in a way.
They're all protective over Tails of course, the youngest, their little brother. They won't stop him from throwing an explosive at you if you're an asshole but if you do or say something that gets his ears to fold down the slightlest you have exactly 5 seconds to run.
Amy can easily squash her hammer at any creepy guy that comes to her, but why waste her breath when her 3 boys will gladly hunt him down? They all give Amy princess treatment aside from the usual friendly taunting and I will die on this hill.
We all know Sonic has a tendency to run into situations without thinking. Tails, Knuckles and Amy sometimes have to straight up go on babysitter mode in the middle of the battle to make sure their spiky blue friend doesn't run straight into a pit full of spikes or something. Also, add the fact that Sonic has been stated to be "too trusting" sometimes and how his belief that everyone has a little good in them and deserves a second chance can bite him in the butt. Sure, Sonic might have granted you his trust, but that doesn't mean his three less-trusting-more-logical teamates won't look you dead in the eye and warn you and I quote: "break his trust and we'll break your back."
Now as for Knuckles, we know he's the oldest, strongest and most serious of the group, but we all know years of isolation led him to have the naivety of a child. Some folks might think that seeing the red echidna around is the perfect opportunity to use their scamming tricks, but oh, if only there wasn't a speedy hedgehog, an 8yo carrying guns and a girl with a giant hammer hanging around him constantly like some sort of bodyguards. The M.E's guardian going to the surface is a rare occurance, so if you dare to even THINK about ruining this with your con artist stuff, you WILL end up with a broken bone.
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whumpy-angsty · 2 months
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Young whumpee who after being rescued by their team, can't sleep without having a flashback. The silence when everyone sleeps just makes them scared. Like something is coming. Young whumpee can only sleep when the sun is up and when everyone is awake and they can hear them talk and move around.
They sleep in the living room where they can hear everyone. They get pats sometimes. Someone sits near them rubbing their feet gently. Some let them even use their laps as pillows letting their head rest there. Playing with thier hair a bit. They get plushies, a blanket covering them, and all kind of things that are cozy.
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aurumacadicus · 3 months
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This is more AA than MCU but I can't imagine AA Tony doing this lmao.
--
"Mr. Stark," Peter said, looking up from his phone.
"I'm not doing another TikTok," Tony answered immediately, not looking up from his tablet.
Peter scoffed, as if he wasn't going to suggest just that. "I was just going to ask if you ever wondered what Captain America sees when he looks at you."
Tony lifted his head, preemptively exhausted. "His name is Steve."
"It feels illegal to call him that," Peter said defensively. "Do you know how many times I've had to watch his school specials? 'So. You got detention.'"
Tony turned to look over the couch at him. "Would it make you feel better if I told you that it took him six takes because the first five, he followed it up with 'you fucked up' instead of 'you messed up?'"
"Yes," Peter answered. He began tapping frantically at his phone. Probably trying not to look suspicious as he asked JARVIS for access to the blooper reels. "You didn't answer my question."
Tony sighed, closing his eyes, then turned to look at him again. "I know what Steve sees when he looks at me. I'm out of the bathroom and ready for work by the time he gets back from his runs."
Peter blinked back at him, probably going for innocent and failing, because Tony knew him. "No, I mean how you look from his height. You're five-seven--"
"Five foot eight," Tony cut in. "And Steve's six feet tall. It's not like he's a giant and I'm an oompa loompa."
"Steve's six-foot-three," Peter told him gently.
"Steve is not two thirds of a foot taller than me," Tony sputtered, offended. He was a perfectly respectable five-eight and Steve was a frustrating six-foot brick. He was not three inches taller than that. Tony would not allow it.
"He is," Peter assured him, with that same gentle tone. "JARVIS?"
Tony whipped his head around to glare at one of JARVIS's cameras. There was a long pause, as if he was considering his answer. Finally, though, he replied, "From current measurements, Mr. Parker seems correct in his assertions."
"Not if I take him out at the knees," Tony hissed.
Peter stared at him for a very long time, looking unsure of whether he wanted to continue the conversation. Finally, though, he rallied. "I think we should see what Steve sees."
"My beautiful face," Tony answered sternly, looking back down at his tablet. He poked at some measurements for the engine he was designing for a moment, then turned to scowl at him. "And how do you suggest we do that?"
Peter finally hopped off his stool and walked over to the nearest wall, crawling up so he could fix his phone to it at the proper height with some webbing. He tapped at the camera for a moment, then hopped back down onto the ground and waved up at it. "Ta-da! This should be about the height of Steve's eyes."
Reluctantly, Tony set his tablet aside and got up off the couch. He already didn't like what he was seeing in the camera from a distance.
"Why is there a camera on the wall?" Natasha asked, stepping out of the elevator. She began moving toward the kitchen, circling the camera's main view.
"We're checking to see what we look like to Steve," Peter offered.
Tony grimaced as he looked up into the camera. "Oh my god. Natasha, come here."
"No," Natasha answered. "I'm hungry."
"I look like I should be," Tony began, covering his mouth in horror as he moved from side to side. "Oh my god." He turned back to the camera and lifted his hands up like he would to wrap them around the back of Steve's neck. "I look like I should be saying 'up,'" he finished tearfully.
Natasha appeared beside him a second later, looking horrified in the camera's reflection. "This is what he sees when he looks at me?"
"You're even smaller than I am, what the fu--" Tony covered his mouth again, dropping his gaze down to his feet so he couldn't see the video anymore. He tipped his head up to look through his lashes, unable to help wondering what that looked like to Steve, and let out a howl of dismay. No wonder Steve always teased him about pouting when he was in a sulk or mad.
Natasha took a step closer and looked like she instantly regretted it. She pulled a knife. It didn't look threatening, even to her, and she knew she'd follow through on a stab. "Oh," she said, and then her hands flew to her head, turning away from the camera. "Oh my god Tony."
"This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me," Tony whispered, reaching up to grab the phone down.
"Thor's taller," Natasha choked out.
Tony froze, hand halfway toward the phone, then let out a scream and crumpled to the ground as if he'd been shot.
Peter grabbed his phone while Tony and Natasha were recovering and bolted for the elevator. He didn't want them blaming him for this revelation. He passed Steve, Thor, and Clint as he was rushing out of the lobby and managed a short but sincere, "I'm sorry for what's about to happen to you."
"What?" Steve called after him, aghast, but Peter didn't turn.
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vldsideblog · 3 months
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I think Keith would fall asleep if someone started playing with his hair.
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seaside-writings · 4 months
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Prompt #1,223
"You belong here, you belong with us,"
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aceofwhump · 1 year
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They were pretty worried about you.
We all were.
9-1-1 6x11 "In Another Life"
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Photo
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MacGyver 3x13 Wilderness + Survival + Training
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whumpster-dumpster · 1 year
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When Team Leader is so personable and empathetic and wears their heart on their sleeve that Whumper doesn’t understand how they and their team can remotely be a threat -- at least not until Whumper actually hurts the Team Leader and calls down the wrath of the stone cold ride-or-die Second In Command
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dombrianoteretto · 9 months
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Vince: I think I've finally decided to stop drinking for good.
Dom: Oh? Good.
Mia: We thought we'd have to have an intervention.
Letty: Good choice, V. We were all getting a bit worried about your-
Vince: I'm just gonna start drinking for bad!
Leon: Bro-
Jesse: That's alcoholism, dude.
Brian: My dad had that! Not fun. 10/10 would not recommend.
Everyone else: 😟
Dom: Baby, I-
Vince: Buster... I usually wanna fight you, but... Are you actually, like, okay?
Brian: Don't you try and flip this intervention on me you alcoholic.
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leverage-ot3 · 1 year
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the found family trope is inherently queer and you can’t change my mind
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autisticlancemcclain · 5 months
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this is how it started
———
This is how it continues: Keith holds his hand all the way to breakfast.
In itself not incriminating. Lance holds Hunk’s hand all the time. He’s always got an arm around Pidge’s shoulder. Shiro is amused by Lance’s incessant attempts to have them skip about with their arms linked. Sometimes he offers his arm to Allura with the poshest expression he can muster, just to make her laugh. Not all of his attempts are entertained by his friends, of course, but there’s nothing novel about Lance attaching himself to people as they move about.
Keith reaching out, as they walk out of the bedroom they just shared, and linking their hands together easy as pie is, however, novel.
Everything is so bizarre. It’s worsened, really, after a night of decent sleep (in a real genuine mattress!), because it’s just not what Keith and Lance…do. They race each other to doorways, yanking on hoods or sticking out legs to trip and get ahead. They escalate from light shoving to full on wrestling in the middle of conversations. Keith is not exempt from Lance’s constant need to touch, sure, but it’s never — like this. Light, easy, comfortable, familiar.
(It was, briefly, at the end. When on their way to meetings and briefings and missions even Keith’s hand would rest on the small of Lance’s back. Absentmindedly. Unnoticeable. But a he left a week after it started, and as far as he’s concerned anything started in that era has long since been left behind them.)
They’re late — the rest of the team has already gathered. Pidge and Allura are half asleep on either of Shiro’s shoulders, and Coran and Hunk are arguing intensely but playfully about a pile of unrecognisable goo that Lance has learned to recognise as the space version of oatmeal. Hunk pokes it in disgust. Coran feigns outrage.
All five faces turn to them as they approach, and Lance can’t place a single one of their expressions. He is made suddenly aware that he has loosened his grip on Keith’s hand when he feels him squeeze three times, quickly in succession.
“…Huh,” Shiro says after a moment, eyes trained on their clasped fingers. His face is carefully blank. No one else offers any commentary.
“How’d y’all sleep,” Keith asks, pulling out a chair. Lance realizes after a beat that it’s meant for him, and he flushes up to his ears. He tugs his hood over his head and nearly upends the table in his haste to melt into the offered chair. Keith, in contrast, sits down next to him and rests an arm over the back of Lance’s chair so smoothly it has to be practiced.
Pidge makes a choking noise, cheeks puffed up like she barely managed to keep her mouth shut. Hunk has both hands clapped over his mouth.
“Shut the fuck up,” Lance hisses, face redder than his lion.
Keith’s fingers brush his shoulder. He sinks further into his chair and tugs his hood down lower.
“I slept exceptionally,” Allura says loudly. The look she cuts Lance’s way is straight-up evil, and Lance knows what’s coming, and for several agonizing seconds he considers grabbing the spoon from the goo bowl and stabbing it straight through his eye. “The beds were very comfortable, didn’t you find, Keith?”
You are so dead to me, Lance thinks at her. He even thinks i’m in Altean so the fury can reach her properly.
“Yeah.” Keith leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. Lance’s face gets exponentially redder, and the peanut gallery starts screeching quietly, but despite himself he — leans. Into it. And Keith notices, because his mouth curves into a smile, and he presses another kiss to the curve of Lance’s jaw before pulling away. “Slept right for the first time in two years.”
“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Shiro says, reminding Lance once again that he is, in fact, Lance’s hero, actually, last few months notwithstanding. He shoots Lance a fond, teasing smile, then turns back to Keith. “My question is: what the fuck?”
“Seconded,” Pidge agrees through a mouthful of goo.
Hunk grimaces at her. She shoves three more bites of goo into her mouth then opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue at the yellow paladin, just to be disgusting. With a scandalized “gross, Pidge!” Hunk shoves chair away and marches to the other side of the table, leaving Pidge sniggering.
Keith watches the whole thing with a smile on his face soaked in so much sadness Lance’s chest physically aches with it. He darts out a hand and wraps it around Keith’s, squeezing it in a mirror of the way he did before. Keith smiles gratefully at him, pulling up his hand and kissing the back of it. Somewhere, Lance hears someone mutter: “Christ alive.”
“There was a — shipwreck, of sorts,” Keith explains eventually. His voice is soft. “Krolia and I flew too close to something. Our intel was outdated. When we finally made it out of the wreckage we were stranded on the back of a space whale, and time was…stretchy.”
“That explains so very little,” Shiro says, shaking his head. He stabs his spoon in some goo. “Space has done little but piss me off in the last couple years, if I’m being honest. Keith, I swear to God I’m going to ground you.”
Keith grins. “Fat chance, old man. I outrank you now.”
“That’s what you think.”
Lance watches them both critically as they argue. Well, ‘argue’. They’re both grinning too hard for any real animosity. And exhaustion still lines Shiro’s features, and he still leans onto Allura for support, but there’s a brightness in his eyes that’s been missing for months. And Keith is —
Keith is here, leaping to his feet, spoon of goo bared dramatically, and he is tired too but he is warm and soft, somehow, and the weight that Lance has always watched on his shoulders seems to have lifted. There is an easiness to him now that there wasn’t before. And Lance notices and cannot stop noticing, because he is beautiful, and because for some reason he has decided to plant himself next to Lance, closer than before, and bleed his warmth. And Lance is supposed to be the lighthearted one and the joking one and the easy one. That is his role. That is what he knows how to play.
But he’s been struggling. And the role has not come easy. And last night he had cried until he slept in Keith’s arms and Keith had held him and checked the room and kissed his hair and has yet to let go of him.
Lance looks at Keith and thinks to himself: maybe just this one thing.
Keith reaches half over the table and musses his brother’s hair, pushing him back into Allura’s careful hold and sitting heavily back in his own seat. He frowns, staring at the space that has grown between his chair and Lance’s during his roughhousing. Slowly, he reaches over and grabs the bottom rung of Lance’s chair, dragging him over until the space between them has disappeared, then he nods once to himself, satisfied, and throws an arm around Lance’s shoulders, pulling him even closer.
And Lance thinks to himself: oh, God.
For a moment Lance is tense. He feels the stares of the rest of the team, teasing and interrogating all at once. He can already anticipate their questions, probably on par with his own.
Keith rests his cheek on top of Lance’s head.
“You good?”
Suddenly, none of that seems to matter. He thinks to himself: I need to sit him down and ask what the hell is going on.
Keith’s thumb starts to gently brush back and forth on the cusp of his shoulder.
He says: “I am now.”
This is how he lets it continue.
———
this is how it ends
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dirigibleplumbing · 2 months
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the fridge in Avengers Tower in the Avengers Assemble universe, a gift for @ishipallthings for the 616 Steve/Tony server's stocking exchange.
even though the resources were the easiest to find for this one, this edit was the most difficult of the ones I made for this event. simplicity is hard for me, lol. (also I'm really proud of how that MoMa magnet is partially transparent in the right way... not that it's very visible.)
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mothmanavenue · 11 months
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real tired today so here’s a quick doting older brother shiro and spoilt little sister pidge
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aurumacadicus · 2 months
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"Miss Widow, I need you to be my partner in crime," Peter said, dropping from the ceiling. He waited for a beat, expecting a rolling of eyes or an exasperated sigh. When he received nothing but a raised eyebrow, he hesitantly asked, "Aren't you going to correct me, or..."
"It's good that you have some fear of me, Peter," Natasha told him simply. "Has the crime already occurred? If you want a body buried, ask Bruce."
"...Hmm," Peter hummed, deciding he wasn't going to unpack all that. "Mr. Hawkeye said that you're the resident matchmaker."
Natasha sat up straighter. "Oh?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him.
Peter thrust his phone at her. "I have video evidence of Captain America being totally gone on Mr. Stark."
"Explain," Natasha said, clipped, even as she opened up his phone.
Peter did not ask how she knew his nine-digit code. Instead, he dutifully recounted, "So Mr. Stark decided we should swap playlists, ostensibly so I could listen to 'good music' but I think he wanted to see what the kids are into. I get some of my songs from TikTok and I think one of them is a bit of an ear-worm for him."
Natasha thumbed open his gallery and went directly to his last video, taking only a moment to turn the volume up. In it, she saw Tony in the common kitchen, fixing himself up a cup of coffee. He was swaying slightly like he did when he was humming. Steve was sipping a protein shake at the table, as if he was not glancing at Tony every other shift back-and-forth.
"I, wish I could synthesize, the picture perfect guy," Tony suddenly mumbled out loud, in that way he did when he had no idea his brain-to-mouth filter had stopped working. "Six, feet tall, and super strong--"
Steve perked up, sitting straight from where he'd been leaning on table.
"--We'd always get along--"
Steve flopped back onto the wood surface and took a morose sip from his protein shake.
Natasha felt her mouth drop open in shock as she watched Tony, oblivious, go back to humming and turn to leave the room. Despite Steve's obvious disappointment, it didn't stop him from tipping in his seat to be able to see Tony's ass properly.
"I'm going to kill him," Natasha decided.
"That's not the crime I wanted to be partners for," Peter cut in.
Natasha lifted her gaze to him, scowling. "He will express his feelings for Tony or die."
"...Hmm, " Peter hummed again. If he remembered correctly, both Sam and Bucky had said that Natasha expressed her affection to the people she cared about with cheesy jokes and threats to their lives. Steve would be fine, probably. "He didn't even sing the best part," he sighed instead.
Natasha slanted another sharp look toward him. "Oh yeah?"
"'He'd pick me up at eight, and not a minute later, 'cause I don't like to wait,'" Peter recited. "'Kind, and ain't afraid to cry, or treat his mama right. That's right, that's what I like.' Which, like, Captain America would rather bleed out than cry, but he doesn't sound constipated when he tells other people it's okay. Also I wish he would be less punctual," he added mulishly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Aunt May keeps raising her eyebrows at me when he shows up to pick me up for training and I'm not ready."
Natasha bit back the urge to howl in rage. Of course Tony would get a song basically about Steve stuck in his head and not notice. Of course he wouldn't notice Steve panting after him like a dog. They were both stupid. That's why she was there, though, she supposed. "I will do the actual crimes," she told Peter firmly. "And you will keep your mouth shut."
"There will be actual crime!?" Peter yelped.
Natasha ignored him, instead returning to his phone and scrolling for more blackmail on Steve. He was the weakest link in this chain of idiocy. "Keep that up, Mr. Man."
"Oh boy," Peter sighed, shoulders sagging. There was some regret in his tone.
Good. It would solidify that modicum of fear he should keep about her.
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