kiss it better ☏ marvel oneshots

please ✩ s.rogers

following a classic Tony Stark Party, you find yourself and steve rogers in the kitchen at the same time in the early hours of the morning. you're alone, you're infatuated, and the air is crackling with palpable tension. the question is... will you act on it? (yeah obviously you will what kind of boring fucking fic would it be if u didn't lmfao)

request that i LOVE!!!!

captain kink time lol

SMUT WARNING

Silence resides over the tower as morning almost begins to break. Despite the time of day, your friends and teammates have only just dragged themselves to bed, drunk and smiling in a lack of remembrance of any of the nights embarrassing deeds. You've never been one for drinking - it doesn't taste nice and you can barely remember your life as is - and you can't wait until they slouch downstairs tomorrow afternoon so you can remind them and watch them cringe. You smile at the thought as you rise from the sofa.

The corridor is bathed in mild darkness and on your way to the kitchen, you pause in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Smatterings of streetlights and lit-up bedrooms pock the tenebrosity, cars already clogging up the roads. New York still lives while everyone sleeps - a pretty sentiment. You keep moving after lingering there for a long minute.

Your trip to the kitchen is a long one. You drag your tired, aching feet and knuckle your droopy eyes. You could go to sleep, but you have plans for tomorrow (or technically today), so you would have to get up after only a couple of hours anyway. It's too late to bother sleeping at all so you may as well have some coffee and get on with your day.

Your blue mug is halfway empty and you're beginning to wake up again within ten minutes. You take it with an excess of sugar to speed up the process and it sort of works. The low light in the kitchen tries to tempt you into slumber right there at the counter but your resist. Again you watch New York move through the window. It looks like water from this far away, ebbing and flowing and-

Someone's behind you.

You turn suddenly, discarding your cup on the counter, and your hands are up in fists in front of you in a second. Ever since joining the Avengers mere weeks ago, you've been on even higher guard than usual. You're living in a heightened state of fear, always tightly coiled and ready to spring.

Apart from with Steve.

Who is here.

In the kitchen.

With you.

Although you remain in the same outfit you've been in all night - a black slip dress with heels lying on their side in the middle of the kitchen floor - he is only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair is wet and falling artfully, drops of water still slipping over his smooth gold skin from what you assume to be a recent shower. He looks like a god. He steps closer, hands up in joking surrender and a subtle smile gracing his lips.

"Hello to you too." Steve says, sitting on a high stool beside the one you had just abandoned. You retake it and smile in sheepish apology.

"Gotta be on guard, you know?"

"I know. Good response time, good for you, Arieliz." He teases. He reaches out and takes your mug, sipping. "Why is this so sweet, Jesus."

"It tastes better like this," you demand, "You probably have it black and bitter and shit, gross." You tease back, winking.

He laughs. "There's nothing wrong with black coffee."

"Oh, there's everything wrong with black coffee." You protest. Steve laughs and leans closer to you. You can smell him now, citrusy, like lemon or something.