Steve didn’t exactly live in the tower, happy with his now much more homey brownstone in the city, but Tony still kept a room around for him. It was good, too, because the Captain still used it every now and then, especially when working on things with the team, and when he started staying over a few nights at a time, no one was really surprised when his lover followed.
(“—Like a stray puppy.”
“If he hears you say that, Clint, I’m not cleaning up after. You know how hard it is to get blood off walls?”)
Everyone but Thor knew about Fenrir by now, and while some were rubbed the wrong way about keeping this from the thunderer, they all agreed it to be something that had to be worked out between the two and Steve. And Thor was off-world enough that it generally wasn’t a problem.
Of course, none of that meant they were prepared to fully appreciate the fact that the Captain and the wolf-god-thing (they could never get a clear answer from him) were, well,lovers.
(“They fuck a lot, don’t they?”
“Tony—“
“No, but really. He’s a god, he’s a super soldier, I bet they don’t know how to stop.”
“Oh my god, Tony, shut up.”)
One morning, later than Cap usually got up to run or work out or make breakfast, he ambled into the kitchen where Clint was already munching on cereal with Natasha leaning against a counter nearby, sipping coffee. Steve padded towards the coffee pot, running a hand through already mussed hair, in nothing but sweats, leaving his marked up chest completely exposed —
Clint’s spoon missed his mouth.
Bite marks all across his shoulders and neck, faded red welts down his chest, and the hint of finger-shaped bruises disappearing into the waistline of his pants — and Cap just poured himself a large mug of coffee, as if walking in from a training session.
Natasha jabbed Clint in the ribs, prompting an oof and annoyed look, only to realize he’d spilled milk outside his bowl. Cap was now raising an eyebrow at him, and it dimly registered that he had said good morning while Clint was too busy gawking. He threw a napkin — that Nat had passed him — over the milk and shoved another too-large mouthful of cereal into his mouth, speaking around chews. “Nice night, Cap?”
Steve smiled dumbly, rubbing at his shoulder, wincing a bit and seemed surprised to find it marked up when he glanced at the source of the slight pain. He blushed a bit, but not enough that Clint thought his entirely sexed up look deserved.
“Mhmm.” He sipped his coffee, eyes turned to Natasha’s with a smile, which Clint then realized was because the redhead had cracked and approving smile.
“Seriously— ow!” Clint scowled at his partner, who’d jabbed him once again. Steve just cast him a knowing grin and turned back to inspect the fridge.
Before Clint could continue, his attention shifted to the movement in the archway as another shuffled into the communal kitchen. It was that Fenrir, kid. (“Not a kid.”) Hair standing at all angles, eyes blurry, movements sluggish in a way that looked more chosen than suffered and, more noticeably, in boxers and a tee. Wait —
“Is that—“
“Yes.” Natasha, the mindreader, raised a brow at him in some kind of challenge, and Clint just frowned and attempted to stab his cereal, muttering something about relationships and wearing their own goddamned shirts.
If Fenrir heard any of it, it went completely ignored as he shuffled through the kitchen, zeroing in on Steve, who was compiling a plate of food. Fenrir more or less plastered himself to Cap’s side, slumping against his shoulder, and groping around for the coffee mug that was soon shoved amicably into his grasp.
“I was gonna bring you some,” Steve murmured, sliding his now free hand to his partner’s back. As bad as Steve looked, with all his hickies and such, the marks that disappeared beneath cloth and littered Fenrir’s jaw and throat made it obvious Cap gave as much as he took.
Which wasn’t an image Clint wanted.
“Took too long,” Fenrir grumbled, leaning into the hold that turned to strokes. As Cap shifted to press his lips against Fenrir’s hair, Clint shoved to his feet and slammed the table.
“That’s it!” He abandoned his remaining cereal, throwing his hands up. “You two are just— so—“
Tony took that moment to roll in, making a beeline for the coffee and downing a mug black like a shot, pouring himself another one before eyeing them all. His eyes lingered on Fenrir a bit, but he gave Cap an appreciative once-over.
Then he flashed the entire room a grin. “Aren’t you glad I installed sound-proof walls?”
Clint left to go shoot something, Natasha following with an amused smirk. Fenrir blinked owlishly, and Steve’s ears reddened a bit, but his smile remained.
.x.