I can’t really describe what I liked most about this entry. This fic is not an epic, not a classic, not a masterpiece, but a damn well written story with a cannon villain, background action, sturdy plot and all around attention to details. The writer takes an in-character impulsive Tony Stark and equally in-character refuses-to-back-down Steve Rogers and pitches them against each other in the perfect game of gay chicken. Tony and Steve are just fooling around in a way that fits their newly re-established friendship. Clearly the rest of the Avengers have no idea what they’re talking about since they’re both absolutely straight. No, really, they’ve talked about this shit. So what could go wrong? ….lol
Summary: After a Civil War, death, rebirth, a takeover by Osborn, brain deletion, and the fall of Asgard, Steve and Tony might just be starting to get back on solid ground with one another. Things aren’t perfect, not yet, but they can be in the same room as each other without resorting to violence, and they’ve even managed to share a smile or two. Seems like the perfect time, then, for Tony to try and fuck it all up with a stupid game of gay chicken. Meanwhile, as if he didn’t have enough to worry about, Tony realizes some kind of supervillainous trouble is brewing when increasingly advanced armors start popping up all over Manhattan, looking strangely reminiscent of his tech. On the other side of the world, Steve gets news that Zola is on the move in Russia, with some sort of nefarious plan at work. Which will ruin them first? Will it be this unknown armored villain who is after Tony’s tech? Or will it be Zola unleashing his mysterious plan on the world? Or will Steve and Tony prove to be their own worst enemies, destroying the tentative truce they managed to forge with their own stubbornness?
Find it at: Archive of our own
Excerpt: “You two aren’t fucking?”
“Not yet,” Tony smirked.
“Is this about after the battle-” Steve started at the same time. Then he stopped, turned to Tony with wide eyes. “Repeat yourself.”
Tony just shrugged and lazed back in the kitchen chair, spreading his legs a little wider than strictly necessary. He raised his eyebrows at Steve, half challenge, half suggestion. “You heard me, super-soldier.”
There was a moment, a quick moment, of stalemate. Tony’s insides shriveled, and a split second of fear, of oh shit, of I’ve gone too far, flashing through his head.
But then Steve’s eyes narrowed, his mouth quirked into a smirk, his whole body language turned challenging. He leaned back against the counter, hands pressed down on either side of his hips, arms flexing with all that serum-given massiveness.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah, I did.”