Work Text:
Tony Stark wore suits, all the time. Steve had seen him in a multitude of colors, designs and stripes with dozens of matching ties and shoes. He probably had one for every day of the year, and Steve had yet to see a repeat.
Even after moving into the tower, Steve only caught sight of Tony occasionally, usually on the way out the door through the common area, late for a meeting. He never saw him down in the shop, and could only suppose he didn't wear his Armani to work on the suits of armor.
The first time Steve saw Tony out of a suit, it was about 3AM, and Steve couldn't sleep. He was pacing the long hallways of the common floor, tracing his fingers along the wall as he waited for his tea to boil. As he rounded the corner into the kitchen, there was Tony, staring blankly into the fridge, wearing a tank top and baggy pajama pants, slung low on his hips. Steve found himself frozen and staring at Tony's form, beautifully outlined in the tight shirt. It was unbelievable how much the change in his clothing made Steve stop and stare, but the DIFFERENCE from suit to..to casual wear was astounding.
He finally shook himself from his trance and took a step towards Tony, making sure his foot fell heavily so Tony would hear.
“Oh, hey Cap. Steve, sorry.”
Steve stifled a grin. He had asked Tony last week to call him by his name, and to his surprise, Tony was trying.
“Hey. What are you doing up here?”
“My fridge is empty. I'm raiding this one. But the pickings, I must admit, are slim.”
Steve came up behind Tony, trying his hardest not to wrap his hands around that plump curve of ass or run his fingers over the muscles sculpting Tony's shoulders.
“Yeah, sorry about that, I haven't been shopping in a week.”
Tony turned around, eyebrow raised. “You go shopping?”
“Well, yeah, how else you do you think food appears in here?”
“Magic. Wait, no, ignore that, please ignore that, I despise magic.”
“We know, Tony.”
There was a brief silence, where Tony's seemed to want to ask a question, and Steve made sure his gaze didn't linger.
“I guess I'll just grab these,” Tony said, pulling some crackers out of the open cabinet.
“There will be more food tomorrow, I promise.”
“Sure thing, Ca – Steve.”
Steve watched as Tony walked down the hall, not even trying to pry his eyes away from that glorious body. Shit, he thought to himself. That just complicated things.
---------------------------------
Steve wore t shirts, all the time. Tony was sure that his closet only consisted of slightly-too-tight white shirts (not that anyone in their right mind would complain about that) and old man jeans or khakis. KHAKIS, for Christ's sake. Steve never wore anything else.
Even when he finally moved into the tower, after much cajooling and convincing, all Tony ever saw him in was that goddamn t shirt. Tony had stopped trying to make himself stop oogling, and Cap – Steve – never seemed to notice, so no harm.
The first time Tony saw Steve in a suit was when Natasha had needed him to pose as her date, as Clint would be working on the rooftop. Tony had feigned offense at not being asked to go, but had shut up when Natasha 'accidentally' showed him where she was hiding her knives in her dress. She was sitting on the stool by the kitchen island and Tony was sitting on the counter next to the sink. He was in his shop clothes, aka a dirty tank top and some ragged jeans, trying to clean some of the oil out from under his fingernails. It was a thankless task.
Steve came out of the elevator and Tony nearly fell off the counter. He was wearing a three piece suit, dark blue, wide lapels and a cream colored shirt. His ridiculously impressive shoulders filling out the jacket, and his long legs accented by the pants. He looked downright EDIBLE, and Tony was having trouble sitting still.
“You clean up nice, soldier,” Natasha said, standing and stretching.
“Ha, thanks,” Steve said, blushing and not looking at Tony.
“Understatement of the year,” Tony muttered under his breath. Steve looked confused, Natasha looked bored.
“Bye, Starky,” she said waving over her shoulder.
“Make sure he's back by midnight, and no sex in my car! I just got those seats cleaned!” Tony shouted at them.
“Relax, Stark, corrupting Golden Boy's innocence is your area,” Natasha said, smirking. Steve put his quickly reddening face in his hands. Tony tried – and failed – to not imagine how far down that blush went.
The elevator doors shut with a ding, and Tony exhaled.
“Shit balls,” he said out loud. “What am I supposed to do about that?”
“Do you require an answer or are you being hypothetical again, sir?” Jarvis asked, startling Tony.
“Hypothetical. And what do you mean, again?”
“I was merely wondering, sir.”
“You're a smart ass, Jarvis.”
“Of course, sir.”
--------------------------
When Steve got back that night, Tony was in the common room. Steve wondered at that, and then decided he didn’t care because Tony was still only in a tank top and low-riding jeans, working at something on the counter. It looked like blueprints, but Steve wasn’t close enough to be sure.
“Hey,” he said, coming out of the elevator. “You’re still here.”
“Well, it is my tower,” Tony said, shooting a grin over his shoulder.
“No, Tony, that’s not - I meant, you’re still here, as in up here instead of holed up in your workshop. What are you doing?”
Steve leaned over his shoulder and Tony caught a whiff of the cologne he was wearing. It was rich and musky and delicious. Tony HAD been down in the workshop, but had set up Jarvis to alert him when the good captain returned so he could get another look at that gloriously suited ass.
“Uh, just some ideas for another suit. You know, the usual,” Tony said, realizing he hadn’t answered Steve’s question whilst imagining ripping his clothes off.
“You okay?” Steve asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Tony tried, so very hard, not to shiver, but he did, and Steve pulled away quickly.
“Sorry,” he said, moving away, and Tony turned.
“No, I’m sorry, you didn’t - that was just - sorry,” Tony said, losing his train of thought because Steve was standing so close to him, tie loosened just enough to show a little collarbone.
“Are you okay, Tony?” Steve asked again, and he was blushing, that was strange.
“Are you? You look flushed,” Tony countered, standing up from the stool he had been occupying.
“I’m - no, I’m fine,” Steve said, tugging at his collar. Steve was trying, so very hard, not let his gaze wander from Tony’s face down his chest...stomach...legs… and Steve knew he must be blushing crimson. Tony was standing in front of him, hands on his hips, tongue peeking out of his mouth like he was concentrating.
“How was the thing?” Tony asked suddenly. Steve was shaken from his thoughts and blinked, not understanding what Tony had asked.
“The thing? Oh, the thing - it was fine, I suppose. It seemed like everyone was staring at me the whole time.”
“Hm, wonder why,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. Steve decided not to comment.
“And these women, Tony, seriously, they would not leave me alone. I mean, I don’t mind girls, but they’re just not my style, you know? I didn’t get to dance with anybody I wanted to.”
“Whoa, whoa, back it up, there, Spangles. Steve. Whoa. Extrapolate on the whole not-my-style thing.”
“What do you mean? Girls...aren’t my style? Isn’t that a saying?”
“Well, yeah, but I just - I’m wondering what it means. Who DID you want to dance with?”
“Oh, they weren’t there.”
“Ah.”
Tony shifted his weight, pulling a hand through his tousled hair. Steve just wanted to run his hands through the dark curls, and down his neck, and back, and -
“Steve? What? Do I have something on me?” Tony turned around, trying to look at his own shoulders. Steve caught him mid-turn, and they were suddenly so close Steve could just reach down and -
“Steve,” Tony said softly, and Steve flicked his eyes up from Tony’s lips into his chocolate brown eyes.
“Yeah?” Steve breathed, and Tony’s eyes widened. Steve’s voice was rough, and his pupils were wide, and if Tony wasn’t mistaken, Steve had just been staring at his mouth.
“I’m, ah, what, um. I -”
He was cut off by Steve Rogers, Captain America, STEVE, kissing him on the lips. It lasted for maybe four second, four warm, glorious seconds, and then Steve pulled back, moving much too far away for Tony’s liking.
“Sorry, sorry, it’s that - you - you just aren’t wearing a suit! And I - I can’t stop thinking about -”
“Not wearing a suit?” Tony asked, wondering where the hell THAT had come from.
“You are always in these suits - not that the suits aren’t nice, they’re great, you look great, but then I see you like this and I just - you - I couldn’t help myself.”
“Well look who’s talking!” Tony said, pointing and finger. Steve creased his eyebrows together in confusion. “You come in here looking like that, after months of stupid t shirts and khakis, who the hell wears khakis,crazy old men, that’s who, though I’m not complaining about the t shirts, they’re hot as hell, but then you wear THAT looking all sorts of edible and I sat here waiting for you to get back just to see you in it again -”
“Edible?”
Tony stopped talking for moment, taking in the adorable skepticism on Steve’s face.
“Yes, screw you, EDIBLE.”
“Wanna taste?”
Tony sucked in a sharp breath, not expecting that at all.
“What?”
Steve watched Tony carefully, not knowing what the hell he was doing. He was being much too forward, but maybe that was the only way to get Tony’s attention. Steve waited for Tony’s response, reaching up to loosen his tie more.
“Don’t,” Tony said, holding out a hand. “Don’t do that unless you want me to jump your bones because I’ve got a loose collar kink like nobody else and if you and your goddamn beautiful self take that tie off I will have to tackle you and do all sorts of things to you.”
Tony smiled like he was kidding, but Steve saw the telltale tension in his eyes. Steve still hadn’t moved, but then he deliberately started to untie the tie from his neck. He slid it slowly out from his collar and unbuttoned the first three buttons on his shirt. Tony watched, lips parted, mesmerized, and Steve was wondering how long it would take for Tony to make good on his threats.
“You’re doing - you are doing that on purpose.”
“Yes I am,” Steve confirmed, sliding off his suit jacket at the same slow pace.
“Wait, you are? So that means -”
“I’m wondering how long this ‘jumping bones’ threat will go unfulfilled.”
Tony’s eyes widened, and then he took a few steps forward, crowding into Steve’s space.
“You look like you’re having trouble taking that off, would you like some help?” Tony asked, but before Steve could answer, they were kissing again. Steve dropped his jacket on the floor and sighed when Tony gripped his hips, pulling the shirt tails from Steve’s belt so he could run his hands up and down Steve’s chest. Steve curled his arms around Tony’s back and explored the muscles across his shoulders, dipping his fingers under the hem of the tank top. They ended up pressed against the kitchen island, hands everywhere, when Tony stopped and pulled back.
“What?,” Steve asked, breathlessly. Tony smiled, breathing just as heavily.
“Let’s - if you want - we could go up to my floor.”
Steve swallowed nervously, but grinned back. “Sure,” he said.
Tony took his hand, leading him backwards towards the elevator. Steve left his jacket and tie on the floor, hoping in the back of his mind that no one would think anything of it in the morning.
“Hey there, soldier,” Tony said as the elevator doors closed and they began ascending. He had pushed Steve against the door and was leaning his whole body into him. Steve could feel the hard press of his erection on his thigh and it made his breath hitch. “Still want me to taste you?”
“You’re the one that called me edible, Tony,” Steve said, leaning over to nibble at Tony’s earlobe, making him gasp.
“Well you are, goddamn, had you seen yourself in a suit?”
“Have you seen yourself out of one?”
“Well, you’re about to,” Tony said, a mischievous glint in his eye. Steve blushed again, but quirked his lips upwards.
“I’d like that,” he said, before leaning down to kiss Tony once more.