Tony knows he shouldn't sleep with Loki, it's just sometimes he's drunk and she's female and he forgets why.

Steve Rogers is a capable leader, a kind and cheerful man, a good friend, a strong role model, and a loyal soldier. He's also teetering on the edge of suicide.

After contracting an Asgardian virus, Tony starts forgetting things. And people. And Steve.

Tony shakes his head. “Seriously. All that Twenty Ways to Please Your Man stuff? I mean, a) all the actual women of our acquaintance,” he nods at Natasha, “will tell you that’s it’s sexist bullshit, feeding the male hegemony, denying the importance of female pleasure and seriously, get Pepper even halfway drunk and ask her about this because she has a lecture prepared, I swear to God. Anyway b) sex is not that complicated.”

The resemblance between him and Lord Rivers has been remarked upon more than once, and Tony's still deciding if that's a good or a bad thing. He's pleased by the fact that the tabloids mistake them for each other, when Rivers is fifteen years younger than he is- mixed blessing, though, because sometimes, given grainy tabloid photographs, Obadiah and Pepper don't believe him when he says it's not really him.

And then there was that time in Ibiza; Tony still legitimately doesn't know which one of them that was.

His best friend keeps cockblocking him, his relationship guru is a computer, and he might be gay. The future is very complicated.

As a child, Tony Stark spent a lot of time thinking about how cool it would be to meet Captain America. When it finally (improbably) happens, it doesn’t go at all like he’d imagined.

He’d pictured fewer insults, for one thing.

On the plus side, marriage is bound to be easier than proposing.

Steve was looking earnest. Which was kind of his default expression but he was looking especially earnest right now. "I've been reading about safe sex," he said, "and all the pamphlets say we need to discuss our previous sexual partners before we do this."

His power's running low, the arc reactor flickering. Cold, rancid sewer water is rushing into the fissure at his torn up shoulder, filling up the gaps, rising along his neck in frigid fingers. He's been like this before.

"Hello Captain, I see you are mostly clothed today! Felicitations!" Thor said, while Steve smiled weakly back.

Oh god, what if Jarvis infected Dummy with, with emotions. Jesus Christ.

The world is big, and empty, and fake, and their feet are tangled together on the bedsheets, and Steve's watching Tony, and Tony's watching the stars.

Steve wakes up in the 21st Century. He doesn't think much of it, and it's dubious about him. He meets a Norse God, joins a superhero team, and feels terribly awkward about the whole momument at Arlington he's rendered obsolete by not being dead. Meanwhile, Tony is trying to make his mark on history by being the man who finally drove Nick Fury over the edge.

Gorgeous drawing - not flawless, but the emotion (tenderness and heat and desire) are all there, and I love the representation of Jarvis.

There's a bruise across his ribcage, a mottled purple mess, yellow-green around the edges.

Right now, Tony is working on a 1970 Barracuda 426 convertible he's rebuilding from scrap, hands busy, eyes on his work, but he doesn't need to show his tells for her to read him.

"Mr. Stark, stalking is subject to a penalty of imprisonment up to one year in the state of California," she reminds him politely.

“Does your nice house make you feel guilty?”

“No,” says Stark. “Do people hold it against you that you’re so handsome?”

“No,” returns Jane. “Do people hold it against you that you sold weapons to terrorists for most of your adult life?”

“I don’t know,” says Stark, “why don’t you ask them?”

“I would,” says Jane, “but I think they’re afraid of bodyguards in suits.”

Audio: "Let It Rock" by Kevin Rudolph feat Lil Wayne
4Shared Link: HQ AVI (60 meg XviD)
Alternate Stream: iMeem
Description: Tony Stark: …billionaire, playboy, inventor, superhero…ROCKSTAR!

So, somewhere in between becoming personal secretary to one of the most powerful men in the world, and said man becoming a self-proclaimed superhero, Pepper had accepted that fact that one day she was going to be kidnapped.

She’d prepared for it. She carried around pepper spray, a tazer, a pen, a book of crosswords, a mini-GPS, and pictures of her fictional children. Just in case her kidnappers turned out to be sympathetic. She’d read volumes and volumes about the psychology behind kidnapping. She’d taken self-defense courses. She was as prepared for a kidnapping as anyone could possibly be.

When she thinks about it, Pepper knows that she probably should have quit years ago.

No one would have blamed her really (especially later, after he came back from the cave and built a suit of armor to hide away in, because what sane person would have actually stayed?) but she didn’t, and she won’t, so it’s neither here or there.

Just another part of the vicious cycle of give (mostly her) and take (always him) that they’re stuck in.

"Do you have a special ringtone for me?" Tony asked, without looking up.

"What?"

With a pair of long tweezers he extracted something that glittered from the tangle of copper, examined it critically from several angles and set it aside. "On your phone. Something that reminds you of me, for when I call you."

"Did you have something in particular in mind?"

"As a matter of fact," Tony said, "I did. I was thinking, you know what would be good? 'Wind Beneath My Wings.'"

"Think we can make it this time?"

"I would strongly advise against it, sir." Jarvis's voice was as cool as ever, with only a slight edge of sarcasm.

"And that's why you never have any fun. Lighten up. Nobody likes a buzzkill."

"I amuse myself adequately."

"Yeah, what, playing tic-tac-toe with Dummy? You ever let him be Xs? Might cheer him up some."

Without warning, Jarvis flipped the suit into a mid-air somersault. Several, actually. Tony lost count after the third, when he started concentrating on not filling up the helmet with his lunch.

Emma might, possibly, be blushing. It’s hard to tell. “That was Goa.”

“I’m pretty sure it was…”

“No, you just like saying Phuket.”

“You, Miss Frost, are no fun.”

“That isn’t what you said in Istanbul.”

“Not Constantinople?”

“If you must get songs stuck in my head, at least have the courtesy to choose ones you know all the words to.”

Tony hovers in the dark, a hundred feet off the ground, watching a girl stand in the wreckage of the arc reactor. She doesn't move; after a while, tired of the view of the back of her head, he twitches his left palm and drifts slowly to a position that gi

WHEREAS Virginia Elizabeth Potts is of the belief and opinion that "this thing we have now" requires clarification and limitation.

"Rhodey thinks this is strange, us doing this. You doing this."

He shrugs. "Rhodey thinks that a lot of things I do are strange."

"So do I."

"You're not wrong," he says, rubbing his thumbs in tight, tiny circles along her arch.

"Maybe I just called to hear your voice."

"Oh, then let me forward you to my voicemail and you can listen to me tell you I'll get back to you at my earliest possible convenience as much as you'd like."

“I could’ve sworn I fired you.” “You did. And then you rehired me when you realized no one else would bring you coffee in the middle of the night.” “Damn my coffee habit.” “Yes, let’s blame the coffee.”

Stunning artwork (manip) and set of icons.

"What is this, Jarvis?"

"Compliments of Mr. Stark, Miss. He said to tell you it was," a heavy robotic sigh from the walls, "An assistant to assist you with your assistance."