Steve Rogers One-Shots

Birthday Traditions (smut)

Steve nursed the whiskey, wishing not for the first time tonight that the alcohol could affect him. Tony had insisted that the Fourth of July party wasn't for Steve, but there was a suspiciously large cake with a topper declaring in bedazzled writing "Happy Birthday America" around a miniature replica of his shield.

But since it was a Fourth of July party, the guest list was broader than it would have been for a personal party. Which meant Steve, and the other Avengers, had to deal with politicians, tycoons, and various celebrities wanting to rub elbows. Steve stole a look across the room where Tony and Bucky held court, shaking his head at their antics with women Steve was sure were actual models. Once Tony had began to forgive Bucky, the two had built a strange friendship that involved a lot of alcohol and sexual innuendos.

He sighed, tossing back the last of the amber liquid.

"Rough night?" Darcy sidled up to him, following his gaze. "Tony, I get as a playboy. But Bucky? I figured someone like Natasha would be more his taste."

Steve gave a half-hearted shrug. "Buck's tastes tend to be all inclusive."

"And what about your tastes, Captain?" Darcy looked up at him, coyly fluttering her eyelashes.

Steve's stomach clenched with desire, even though he knew she was teasing him. He and the Lab Manager had been dancing around each other, building a friendship on the love of food and mischief. She planned the pranks. He executed them. No one ever suspected it was aww-shucks All-American Captain America. He suspected Nat had them figured out, but so long as they kept her out of the line of fire (or glitter) she kept their secret. Steve found himself heading to her apartment, only a few blocks from the tower, each weekend. He'd felt bad, monopolizing her time but she never seemed to care—always having a different movie or show ready and a gallon of ice cream just for him.

He mentally kicked himself for not yet finding the courage to ask her to dinner. Not just take out from their favorite shop down the road, but a real dinner. Let Stark drop him two hundred feet onto a mutant squid threatening New York, not a problem. Ask his best friend out to dinner, too much.

Steve realized he'd been staring down at Darcy without answering. Maybe if he lied to himself about being drunk, he could be bold. He dropped his eyes to her lips, just long enough for her to make note of it, before looking up again. "My tastes are more particular."

Darcy blushed but didn't look away. Then she gave him the grin that he knew spelled trouble. "Come with me, Steve."

Even if she had given him a real choice, he still followed her willingly, her small hand warm where it tugged his forward.

They slipped out of the party, down a side hall and she pulled him into a closet, shutting the door firmly behind them. The closet was cramped and the small light in the ceiling only provided enough light for them to barely see each other.

"Darce?"

"I figured I'd introduce you into another modern tradition." Her voice was husky and Steve felt his mouth go dry. "Birthday blow jobs."

Steve felt his eyes go wide and he stuttered. She put a finger on his lips, quieting him. When it worked, she traced his lips lightly, seeming to be hypnotized. He took the moment to look over her in the dim light, the strapless dark red dress hugged her curves before fading to black at the skirt and flaring around her knees.

"Darcy, you don't have to." He struggled out the words, forcing himself to be a gentleman when he most assuredly wanted her to.

She rolled her eyes, the soft smile on her lips taking away any sting as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hands brushed up his thighs, pushing him slightly so that he leaned up against the shelves behind him. He dropped his head back, hands moving to hold onto a shelf. He could feel himself growing hard and she's only touched his thighs.