ada tony stark

anonymous asked:

22, Miles's wedding. Thank you :D

“Oh, don’t cry.”

Miles figures that his reaction’s totally normal, this full-body aversion he feels to either of his parents showing any kind of emotion, but still:  when his dad tears up, something in his chest almost splits in two.  And when both of them start—

 "Not crying,“ Tony promises, but he tips his face up to the ceiling, anyway.  "Just, you know, onions.  A lot of onions.  A whole pile of onions, right outside the doorway.  Kind of questionable for wedding potpourri, but—”

“We’re just proud of you,” Bruce interrupts.  Miles almost always feels immense gratitude for Bruce—for the way his parents balance each other out, really—but it triples when Bruce loops an arm around Tony’s waist.  "No onions required.“

Tony smiles a little, still a little teary, and Miles purposely rolls his eyes at them. "Teddy’s already married,” he points out.  

“Teddy’s great, but Teddy’s not you.”  The total sincerity in his dad’s voice kind of steals Miles’s breath, and he swallows hard when Tony squeezes his shoulder. “Teddy’s a kid who joined our family, and that’s great.  We’ll keep him.  But you’re the kid who made our family.”  He shakes his head a little.  "Totally different scenario.“

Miles almost smirks. "Finally admitting I’m your favorite?” he teases.

Tony shrugs.  "Only if we’re not counting your sister.“

Bruce elbows him, inspiring one of those glimmering Tony Stark grins, and Miles—  Something in Miles’s heart finally trembles, and he feels his own eyes start to prickle.  "I’m really glad you’re my parents,” he admits, words he usually keeps to himself.

Bruce tears up all over again, his face almost crumpling, and Tony swipes at his own eyes.  "We have enough time for a group hug before you go out and get married?“ he asks.

Miles shrugs.  "I guess,” he replies, and lets his dads reel him in.

nightshadezombie  asked:

For Promptucky! 10 please, Tony hugging Natasha. With a side of 7, Nick and Melinda. Thanks!

I already did a Nick/Melinda for Number 7, but as for the other (and I am sorry, but they refused to hug “on camera,” if you will):

“Come here.  You clearly need a hug.”

Natasha frowns as, a couple feet away, Tony smiles at her.  "Who are you, and where did you leave the real Tony Stark?“ she asks. "Because last time I checked—”

“New software upgrade. I’m now a much kinder, gentler, more affectionate Stark.  If you don’t believe me, ask my children.”  She rolls her eyes, and he offers her a small, mostly tame smile.  "I’m also the second-best hugger in my household. Just, you know, for the record.“

"Now that, I believe,” she replies.  She nearly smiles at his scowl.  "I don’t need a hug, Tony.“

"You sure?” he needles.

Instead of rolling her eyes at him again, she returns to her computer. “I’m positive.”

They linger in silence for a few seconds—Tony still looming in her doorway, Natasha frowning halfheartedly at her outlook—before he says, “Hey.”  His voice is almost uncharacteristically soft, and for some reason, the back of her throat tightens.  She swallows around it as she glances over.  "With Pepper out sick, Bruce off at a conference, and Clint spending a long weekend in the back end of nowhere—"

“You mean Nebraska?” she asks.

“Is there really any difference?” he replies, and she shrugs instead of answering. “Obviously, my point is that all your usual confidants are out of town,” he continues, “leaving you to nurse your wounds all by your lonesome.  And since I don’t actually believe in lonely wound-nursing—”

She snorts. “Since when?”

“—I’m here to give you a hug.”  This time, when she starts to roll her eyes, he pins her with a single look. “And I’m not leaving until you give in.”

Natasha studies him for a moment, her lips pursed.  "You might be waiting a long time,“ she warns.

"Lucky for you, they included patience in the software update,” he replies, and she almost smiles.

anonymous asked:

19. MPU Bruce/Tony

“You—  You used me.”

Tony’s breath hitches, his chest stuttering a little bit as he returns to panting, and Bruce kisses the back of his shoulder before finally allowing himself to smirk.  The house is blissfully quiet, with all the kids off on various adventures (Teddy at laser tag with his therapy group, Miles and Amy at sleepovers), and Bruce—

Bruce stretches, his muscles twinging slightly, and flops down on the bed next to his husband.  Tony snorts at him, his face equal parts amused and fond, and brushes the sweat-sticky hair off Bruce’s forehead. “Hi,” he says, his voice thick.

The single word pools warmly in Bruce’s belly, and he smiles.  "You okay?“

Tony hums. "Maybe,” he replies, and twists to press his face against the side of Bruce’s arm.  He nuzzles there, the rasp from his goatee triggering goosebumps, and Bruce sighs contentedly.  "But I want to revisit this ‘using me for your own nefarious purposes’ point.  Because the way my thighs feel right now—"

“Oh, now you’re complaining?”  He grins, and Bruce rolls over enough to tangle their legs. To pin them both to the bed like a single, exhausted, naked leviathan.  "You liked it,“ Bruce says after a moment, his fingers sliding up Tony’s back. "Maybe even loved it.”

“It, sure.  You, definitely.”  Bruce’s fingers still without his permission, and Tony lifts his head to frown.  "Please don’t tell me I’ve not made that point clear recently,“ he says. "Because not only will it destroy my sexual ego, but because I’ll need my own therapy group if I find out you’ve lost that loving feeling.”

Bruce snorts at him, but he can’t help his smile.  "I just sometimes forget how good that sounds, coming from you.“

Tony shrugs. "Guess I need to say it more than once every eight or nine weeks then,” he says, and kisses Bruce’s arm before lying back down.

rustingroses  asked:

So my favorite characters that you've written are Tony and Bruce; you made their relationship so real I keep expecting Miles to show up and unite them in MCU. So I have to ask for a headcanon in the far future, with Tony and Bruce and Teddy/Miles/Amy :D thank you so much for writing the MPU, and I can't wait to see more of your work!!

I want Marvel Studios to know that if they want to insert Miles into the MCU to help Bruce and Tony fall in love, I won’t sue them for plagiarism. In fact, I will pay them to do it. (Like, only five dollars. I’m a government employee, okay? I’m broke.)

(Side note: I watched the end of a Lifetime movie where the guy basically surprises the main character with a wedding at the end of the film. They’d been sort of raising a dog together. I texted Sara to let her know that Lifetime’d infringed on my intellectual property, but with straight people and a dog instead of queer dudes and a teenager.)

In terms of far-future headcanons, here’s a few things:

Amy will eventually acquire pretty much every stray pet known to man. Amy will also attend pastry school in Chicago. Guess who ends up with a wide array of random cats and dogs they never wanted? Yeah, that’s exactly it.

(But one of the cats loves Tony so much that he cannot actually stay mad bout it.)

Miles is the first of the three to provide a grandchild to the guys, and the first couple years of Jillian’s life are a constant uphill battle of please stop buying her things. Please. Is that a rabbit? No, that cannot be a rabbit. (Spoiler alert: it is absolutely a rabbit.)

Teddy pretends very seriously he will not be the kind of kid who shows up for Sunday dinner every week. He only lived with them for like two years before college. He’s an independent person. He and Billy have a life of their own. 

But no, in the end? Totally the kid who shows up for Sunday dinner every week. Even if it’s only pizza because Amy had a soccer double-header and they’re babysitting PJ for the weekend or whatever. Teddy shows up and tugs his sister’s braids and teases Miles about the crush of the week. Because he’s a good big brother.

anonymous asked:

Ty for doing this! I always want to know more about the beggining of tony&bruce. Before Motion Practice. Perhaps some insight into Tony's mind when his feelings toward Bruce really hit. “No, see, you know what I think’s ‘nice’ in a relationship? Looking at the guy and knowing." (Permanency, Chapter 1)

Oh, I think Tony’s feelings for Bruce hit long before Permanency. I think they hit even before the start of the first MPU story, really. The short story about Tony panicking when Dot’s really sick shows glimpses of Tony’s massive tidal wave of Bruce-related feelings, although Bruce is pretty much clueless (and pining in his own, much quieter way). 

At one point, I wrote this scene where Tony explains to Miles that he met Bruce long before they worked together, and the final takeaway sort of amounted to I felt the stirrings of a crush for this guy back when I knew him only as a child-protecting do-gooder. I trimmed the scene out of the final product, but I still imagine the evolution of their relationship that way: Tony, back in his C&M days, met Bruce and thought, “He’s smart and attractive, I’d sleep with him.” But after they started to work together, and he realized that they were intellectually similar and just sort of, I don’t know, cut from the same cloth in a lot of important ways, that turned from “I’d sleep with him” to “I’d date him.”

(I firmly believe that Tony’d decided that he’d marry Bruce long before they ever even dated. Like, “If we ever get together, I’m in it for good, that’s it.”)

Happy Birthday, Miles!

I almost forgot arguably the most important birthday in the MPU. Thank goodness I remembered! Anyway, March 22, 2016 will be Miles’s sixteenth birthday. And because my MPU headcanon is now and always shall be that the high school years are tough on Miles, well, this story reflects that. Meaning: feels. Many feels. Arguably all the feels? We’ll see.

With all that in mind: happy birthday, Miles!

On his sixteenth birthday, Miles wakes up and stares at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, exactly the same as every other morning.  Even when he stretches, his body sort of reassembling after being balled up under the covers, he feels unremarkable.  Same height, same speed, same brain full of the same crap (assignments, projects, his stupid text conversation with the girl he sort of likes).  Sixteen feels like fifteen and fourteen, and he drags himself into the bathroom before Amy and her eight thousand hair ribbons claim it.

Keep reading

Happy anniversary, Tony and Bruce!

Yes, that’s right:  today is Tony and Bruce’s anniversary. And because December 16, 2015 will in fact be their third anniversary, I figured I’d write that little story for you. December is really the greatest month of the year. (And no, as a December baby, I am absolutely not biased.)

That said, here is the story of their third anniversary, written lovingly for all of you:

“Third anniversary is leather, you know,” Tony points out in October.

No,” Pepper says plainly.  They’re out at the mall at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning to check out a godforsaken Columbus Day Sale on riding lawnmowers.  Yes, Tony Stark is now officially the kind of man who worries about lawnmower quality.  Worse, he is the kind of man who brings his worldly friend to along to help him pick out the mower with the best features.

Sometimes, he wishes he misses his old life.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

6 Phil to tony from MPU

“Is there is a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Technically, Tony Stark is not naked in Phil’s bed.  For one, the bed actually belongs to the Westin in Kansas City, not Phil.  For two, Tony Stark now stands next to the bed, a throw pillow clutched against his groin and his chest heaving in horror.

And for three—

“On.  Not in.  Ruins the effect, if I’m in, not that I—”  Phil raises an eyebrow, and for the first time in recorded history, Tony blushes a truly mortified shade of red.  “Would you believe that Bruce and Clint were in the pool together and I grabbed the wrong key card?” he finally asks.

Phil frowns.  “Where was your key card?”

“In my room.  And, before you judge,” he adds, raising a finger, “I didn’t bring my key card to the conference or to the ensuing district attorney pool party because my husband is also attending the conference and ensuing district attorney pool party. And should have come back to the room by now, which is why I was naked and waiting.  Not because I think we should, you know—”

He gestures weakly to the space between them, and Phil sighs.  “Tony?” he asks patiently.


“If you took Bruce’s key card, how was he supposed to get back into your room?”

Tony opens his mouth—and then closes it again.  “How much do I need to pay you to pretend this never happened?”

Phil sighs.  “Just go,” he says, and Tony nods before skittering out of the room, pillow and all.

demond119  asked:

Can we get Bruce/tony with the kids for number eleven? Love the MPU by the way!

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba—  Goddammit!”

The snowball, perfectly packed by Amy and expertly handed off to Miles, hits Tony squarely in the face, and despite his best effort not to, Bruce snickers.  Hard.  Hard enough that it carries over the scrape of Teddy’s snow shovel on the front stoop, and worse, over the sound of Tony slamming his car door shut.

He removes his sunglasses to shake the snow off while Miles and Amy, wisely, duck behind a bush.

Bruce raises his hands mostly to hide his smile.  “I told them to avoid the face,” he defends.

“But you encouraged them to throw a snowball at their innocent and unsuspecting parental unit?” Tony asks, and Bruce shrugs nonchalantly.  Because if nothing else, he believes very firmly in marital bliss, not collusion with his bored, stir-crazy children.  

And he definitely did not help them scope out the best throwing angles.

Or suggest Amy amass a pile of spare snowballs in case Miles missed.

Tony sighs and shakes his head.  “And here, I didn’t think we’d have to do this,” he says, albeit mostly to himself. “I thought you’d be the smarter half of the Banner-Starks.”

Bruce frowns.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean, big guy, that the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain,” Tony replies—and cackles when, suddenly, all three children pop out of nowhere and pelt Bruce with snowballs, instead.

anonymous asked:

22 Bruce/tony from any universe

“I see the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Here’s the secret to long-term relationships, at least as far as Tony understands them:  sometimes, you fight.  Not just about towels on the floor or plates in the sink, but about real things.  An unwillingness to compromise.  Over-indulgent parenting.  Remodeling the bathroom without any warning.

And sometimes, the fights—be it the real ones or the stupid ones—stretch out into hours or days. Like a resentment bubble, swelling until it finally pops.

Day three of the fight—a fight Tony barely remembers, at this point—and he and Bruce still feel off-kilter and wrong.

At least, until he comments on Bruce’s glances.

Bruce rolls his lips together, his eyes still trained on the book in his lap, but after a minute of contemplative silence, he raises his head.  Studies Tony’s face from where Tony looms in the bathroom doorway, silent and still, but soft.  Vulnerable, Tony thinks, and his own shoulders slump.

He forgets sometimes the baggage they both drag around with them.  The wounds they carry but never quite learn to heal.

Finally, Bruce shakes his head.  “I can’t stay mad at you,” he murmurs.

“Do you want to?” Tony asks.


“But you can’t?”

Bruce nods and closes the book.  “Side effect of being in love with you, I think.  Even when I want to hold a grudge, I forgive you.”

Tony smiles softly.  “Pretty sure I don’t always deserve that.”

Bruce snorts and smiles, too.  “Pretty sure I don’t deserve most of what I have, some days, but I get to keep it, anyway.”

youngurbannerd  asked:

For your PROMPSTRAVAGANZA: Bruce and Tony from the motion practice verse: “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” (if it's too difficult, just give me anything w Bruce and Tony. I'm dyyyyyying! :)

“You fainted … straight into my arms.  If you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

Tony waggles his eyebrows, his smirk desperately smug, and Bruce rolls his eyes as he rights himself. Everything about Tony’s home, from the foyer down to the stove, is massive and ridiculous—if, of course, you discount the steps on his back deck.  Combine the steps with Butterfingers, the clumsiest dog known to man, and you’re asking for grass stains and a twisted ankle.

Or Tony’s arms enveloping you when he prevents the grass stains.

He keeps his arm around Bruce’s waist, slung low and protective even after Bruce fixes his glasses and regains his composure, and heat creeps up the side of Bruce’s neck. He’s there to set up for Tony’s Labor Day party, not to fall victim to Tony’s gravitational pull. Worse, Tony watches him, his lips pursed and his eyes dark.

Bruce’s stomach swims.

They’re standing on the precipice, he knows, inches from falling.

But before either of them moves, the dogs come careening up the yard, and they break apart just in time to avoid collision with two retired greyhounds.  Bruce smooths his hands over his shirt.  Tony digs fingers through his hair.

“Lawn furniture?” Bruce suggests.

Tony nods.  “All the lawn furniture.”

They never talk about Bruce’s tumble again.

anonymous asked:

Promptfest: MPU Tony and Steve during Cramer and March days #3, 22, 26, 35, 41, 44, or 49.

Again, there are a lot of these, so I will do a couple. The first is post C&M, but it (a) piggy-backs off Tony and Steve’s C&M relationship, and (b) references another prompt I filled this weekend. The last is also post C&M, but I feel like it says a lot about the C&M experience. (It’s hard for me to write about Tony’s darkest days.)

“I got you a present.”

Steve jerks his head up from his case file fast enough to develop whiplash, but Tony just waves a hand. “Don’t get up.  Because if you get up, and we’re talking seriously and quietly about this when the rest of the interns walk in, it will be really awkward. Mostly for you, but also for me, since I have a reputation to maintain.”

Steve’s mouth quirks up into a grin.  “What reputation is that?”

“Oh, you know: unapproachable, unlikeable, kind of a dick.  Only you and maybe Banner suspect otherwise.”

Steve snorts a laugh, but Tony just dangles the gift bag in front of him.  Pepper picked it out, so of course, it’s bright pink and covered with rattles and shit.  Worse, the tissue paper is silver and glittery.  As far as Tony’s concerned, it looks the way a cavity feels.

“I researched a lot about people having kids,” he continues after Steve’s smile crash-lands into a confused frown, “and it turned out, there’s a lot of articles on how to keep the kid and your marriage alive. Because the two are mutually exclusive when your baby’s tiny and squalling, I guess.  So I figured, hey, I might as well put together a little care package for you and Mrs. Rogers.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Barnes.”

“No, you’re Mrs. Barnes.  It’s like you never listen.”  Steve wrinkles his nose, but Tony just shakes the bag a little.  “Seriously.  A present. And my congratulations.”

Steve purses his lips. “I still feel like I should be thanking you, most days.”

“Probably true, but consider this your ten-second reprieve,” Tony responds, and Steve laughs again.

“Well, this is awkward … ”

Mister Stark slurs the last word, almost stumbling, and Steve barely catches him before he crashes into one of the elevator walls.  It’s well past eight at night, and most of the high-rise that houses Cramer & March is dark and quiet.  Steve knows Bucky will tease him for staying late—first summer associate at work, last summer associate to leave at the end of the day—but he worries.

About doing a good job and someday providing for a family.

And about Tony Stark.

Mister Stark rights himself slowly, his footing still uneven, and he holds onto the strap of Steve’s bag as they step out of the elevator.  He won a big settlement today, Steve knows, which explains the scotch smell.  But he also downed two pills in the hallway while they waited for the elevator, and Steve’s not sure about that part.

“Do you have a ride?” Steve asks when they step out into the humid July night.  Mister Stark blinks at him, swaying, and Steve grabs his arm before he stumbles again.  “My husband’s picking me up, but we can drive you home.  Make sure you—”

“Happy,” Mister Stark blurts.  Steve blinks, and the other man drags his palm over his face.  “Pepper called Happy.  Pepper always calls Happy.”

Steve nods unevenly.  “Do you want me to stay with you until Happy gets here?”

Mister Stark shrugs.  “If you want.”

“Okay,” Steve says, and lowers them down onto a bench near the curb.

Ten minutes later, a man in a white Audi collects Mister Stark without a single word to Steve.

And five minutes after that, Steve collapses into the passenger seat of Bucky’s car and says, “I think there’s something going on with my boss.”

“You did all of this for me?”

Miss Potts mouths incoming the second before Steve hears Tony’s voice, and he almost nails his head on Tony’s file cabinet as he springs to his feet. For the last six months—at least, according to Miss Potts—Tony’s office in the district attorney’s office looked like a jail cell:  gray walls, gray furniture, no art, no life.  

“Temporary,” Miss Potts’d said on Steve’s first day as an intern, shaking her head.  “Like he doesn’t plan on staying.”

Does he plan on staying?” Steve’d asked carefully.

She’d sighed.  “I don’t know.”

But the summer’s transitioning into fall, now—into the tenth month of Tony being Assistant District Attorney Stark—and finally, his office looks like home.  There’s art on the walls, pillows on the visitor chairs, a potted plant on the window ledge, and a Star Wars mug filled with Tony’s favorite pens on the desk.  All Miss Potts’ idea (well, except for the plant—that was all Doctor Banner’s doing), but assembled and straightened by Steve.

Steve sets the label maker down on the desk and smiles sheepishly.  “Miss Potts—”

“Pepper,” she corrects for the hundredth time.

“—suggested you might want your office to feel a little more permanent.  And after everything that happened at the law firm … ”  His ears prickle red, and he rubs the side of his neck.  “Well, we wanted to help.”

“Help,” Tony repeats.

“Yes, Tony,” Miss Potts says indulgently.

“By hanging art prints and labeling my file cabinet.”

“If you don’t like it,” Steve says, “we can—”

When Tony hugs him, it’s with the desperation of a drowning man.  “Thank you,” he says quietly.

Steve smiles.  “You’re welcome.”

princev-orion  asked:

18. Tony/Bruce (set in MPU)

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

Bruce sighs like the long-suffering husband he pretends to be, and Tony reaches out and snags the tablet out of his grip.  “I’m serious,” he says, ignoring the other guy’s eye-roll.  “Three kids who belong to us, three kids who belong to somebody else, and Mickey Mouse, all on a giant boat?  It will be the least restful vacation in the history of vacations, and I am all for it.”

Bruce scowls at him.  “I suggested we rent a camper again, but after last summer—”

“I’m still finding sand in my private places, Bruce.  No more cross-country road trips unless the end goal is Malibu instead of a dude ranch.” 

Bruce pulls a disgruntled face, the kind that proves that he’s really not pretending any more, and holds out his hand for the tablet.  Tony, maturely, closes the browser window and locks it.  “We’ll spend eighteen hours of every day managing Dot and Amy while keeping occasional tabs on the older kids,” he says while Bruce crosses his arms.  “Teddy and Billy will probably fight about something stupid.  Twice, knowing them.  Ganke will develop a crush on a random girl who is way more interested in Miles, and you—”  He pokes a finger lightly into Bruce’s shoulder.  “—will forget sunscreen and burn your nose.”

Bruce huffs.  “You don’t want to take a cruise, Tony.  I get it.”

“No, but that’s just the thing:  I do.”  Bruce frowns in actual confusion, and Tony flops back in his chair.  “A couple years from now, the kids won’t want to go on vacations with us.  If Amy and Teddy are even our kids anymore.  If we want to do this, we should do it now.”  He shrugs.  “We can rest and wear sunscreen when we’re empty nesters.”

His husband narrows his eyes.  “Pepper warned me you were confusing.  I should have believed her.”

“A little late now, don’t you think?” Tony asks, and when he winks, Bruce snorts and smiles.

jfridley  asked:

Labor Day prompts: Mpu pepper/Natasha #1 Mpu Tony/Bruce #5 #13 Steve and Bucky #2 Dot Amy Teddy and miles #43 #50 ❤️💗

Just because I have so many prompts (like, loads of them), I am going to pluck but a couple from this list. 

“Come over here and make me.”

Pepper bristles at Tony the second the words roll off his tongue, and Natasha raises her eyebrows. She’s perched on the edge of Pepper’s desk, checking final edits on a motion while she waits for a fax from the local domestic violence shelter, and Tony stills the second their eyes meet.

Pepper, completely unaware of the staring contest, grits her teeth.  “I’m asking you to sign off on a brief, Tony, not finish your vegetables before dessert.”

“Except Hill gutted that brief without my permission,” Tony argues.  “And since I don’t believe in signing my name to anything I don’t like, you might as well—”

Natasha lowers her motion into her lap and tilts her head.  Tony swallows around the end of his sentence.  Pepper, on the other hand, just sighs.  “Stop acting like a spoiled child.”

“I—” he starts, but Natasha just blinks at him.  He scrubs a hand over his face.  “Yeah, fine, whatever, give me the brief,” he acquisceses, and scribbles his name across the bottom of the page.

Pepper waits until he’s out of earshot to say, “I know what you did.”

Natasha smiles.  “And?”

“And nothing,” Pepper replies, and trails fingers across Natasha’s knee before turning back to her computer.

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Bruce flops back against the couch and rubs a hand over his face.  “I don’t even know what we’re talking about, anymore,” he admits.  “I lost track after the third drink.”

“Fourth.”  He frowns, and Tony prods his thigh with his toes.  “I made everybody two, then you made us each two. Four drinks.”  He rattles the ice in his glass.  “Five if you count the one we’re sharing.”

Bruce narrows his eyes. “We’re sharing that drink?”

“Since you stole it out of my hand, yeah.”  Tony raises the glass to his lips, and Bruce watches the way his throat bobs.  He thinks about pressing his face to that throat, or maybe feeling Tony’s goatee against his cheek, when Tony says, “And we’re talking about how we’re post-gaming Steve’s big victory and how unbelievably jealous you are of my special relationship with him.”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “I’m not jealous,” he says, even as his stomach clenches.

“Really.”  Tony abandons the glass on the coffee table to scoot closer, his legs stretching over Bruce’s lap.  Bruce swallows.  “So if tomorrow I started hanging out with him instead you—having regular dinners, drinking with him after all our other friends go home, crashing on his couch—you wouldn’t be upset?”

Bruce snorts.  “Bucky’d be more upset than I would.”

“Not what I asked, big guy.” He plants two fingers under Bruce’s chin, steers his face until their eyes meet.  Bruce’s heart jumps up into his throat.  “I asked if you’d be upset.  Just you. Nobody else.”

Bruce thinks of the last four-plus years before he gulps.  “Yeah,” he admits, “I’d be upset.”

“Then you’re jealous,” Tony decides, and bops Bruce on the nose before he scoots away.

“Have you lost your damn mind?”

Steve flinches at the red-hot anger in Bucky’s tone, never mind the way he slaps his case file against the kitchen counter.  Even in his undershirt and sling (because he’s still recovering from his most recent shoulder surgery, baby step by baby step), he reminds Steve of the broad-shouldered stranger who stuck up for him at the baseball diamond—and against that, Steve feels like a scrawny kid again.  He toys with the form, drumming his fingers against it, and works hard not to duck his head away from Bucky’s glare.

“You might need another surgery,” he reminds his husband.  “Tim’s in a travelling baseball league, we just remodeled the basement …” He shakes his head.  “Even ignoring the amount of turmoil in that office, the last thing we need is—”

“You doing exactly what you’ve wanted to do since the day Fury retired,” Bucky cuts in.  Steve glances away, rubs the side of his neck, and he only realizes that Bucky’s moved after a hand touches his hip.  “We don’t need interim district attorneys and strangers from who-knows-where,” Bucky presses.  “We need you.”

Steve snorts.  “I might be a horrible district attorney,” he points out.

“And if you drop out of the damn race, you’ll never find out,” Bucky returns—and only releases Steve long enough to crumple up the withdrawal form.

cjk1701  asked:

Ohh! 4 with MPU Tony and Bruce (early in their friendship, maybe?)

“Do you …  Well . . .  I mean …”

Tony raises his eyebrows, and Bruce Banner—the usually soft-spoken, self-contained child welfare attorney in their office—flushes a delicious shade of pink and wets his lips. “I could give you a massage?” he offers, and Tony almost laughs.

They’re in the law library of a crumbling old historic courthouse in a crumbling old part of the state, and when Tony stretches his arm across his chest, he cringes.  Again.  For the hundredth time that morning.  Because of course, on the one day he travels for his appellate docket with another attorney instead of understanding, caring, trustworthy Pepper, his shoulder aches like someone shot him.  

Because the dogs slept in his bed.

Thanks to a thunderstorm.

And maybe thanks to Tony’s indulgent personality.

Also, greyhounds are bed hogs.

He stretches again, and Bruce stops toying with his cuffs to study Tony’s face.  “My, uh, ex-girlfriend, she fell asleep in the laboratory a lot.  Wrenched pretty much every muscle in her back and shoulders at some point.  I learned a lot about massage while we dated.  And since you’re in pain and the one driving us home—”

Tony smirks.  “Self-preservation through magic fingers?” he asks.

Bruce flushes again.  “Something like that.”

Tony considers it for a moment before (painfully) shucking off his suit coat and commandeering one of the nearby chairs.  “Well, if you think you can fix the problem, be my guest.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Bruce replies, rolling up his sleeves.

And fifteen minutes later, when they head into the courtroom for the hearing—  Well, Tony’s grateful for tall counsel tables and taller podiums, is all.

anonymous asked:

MPU prompt: "Well, this is awkward..." Bruce/Tony. Bruce gets irresponsibly shitfaced for whatever reason, and Tony has to take him home.

Just to be clear, this one occurs before the start of Motion Practice (or any of the subsequent stories).

It happens exactly once.

“Well, this is awkward,” Tony says, his arm slung low around Bruce’s waist as Bruce finishes spewing all over the pavement outside—  Actually, Tony’s not sure what the name of this horrible dive bar is, just that he probably contracted three different blood-borne pathogens just by walking in the door.  Either way, he props Bruce up while he clears his throat and spits, and again when he groans.

He tries to pull away and reach for the car door, but lucky for Tony, he’s at the point of drunk where a blind, starving kitten could beat him up.

“Gotta let me help, big guy,” Tony says as he catches his friend.  “Otherwise, you’ll be a Bruce-shaped splotch on the pavement, and I—”

“Knew it’d happen,” Bruce mumbles, and Tony blinks in surprise when the guy shoves his forehead against Tony’s shoulder.  “Knew if we didn’t get him out, something’d happen.  Knew we had one shot, but child services wanted another day to investigate, and—”

He shakes his head roughly, like chasing out demons, and Tony grips him tighter.  Because of the whole “drunk and swaying” thing, of course, and not the “sounds like he might break down in the middle of a seedy parking lot” bit.  When the silent drags on too long, he asks, “A kid?”

Bruce nods unevenly.  “He’s six.  Might make it through the night, I don’t know.  I wouldn’t have, but—”

He shudders, a little like he might rattle apart at the seams, and Tony barely resists the urge to put his nose in his hair.  “C’mon, big guy.  I can at least make sure you make it through the night.”

anonymous asked:

Tony/Bruce, MPU no.37

“Wanna dance?”

Bruce never knows what Tony’s high on during Urban Ascent events—champagne, praise, life, or all of the above—but he still almost chokes on his shrimp puff when the other man sidles up to him.  They’re friends, now, friends in a way that Bruce never really expected.

Sometimes, he wonders whether Tony’s pulling some sort of long-term prank on him.

Other times, he just wants to sink into Tony’s affection and never reemerge.

After he finishes chewing (and washing it all down with a big gulp of champagne), he asks, “You want to dance?”

Tony shrugs.  “You’re lonely and single, I’m lonely and single, and as the Bible tells us, man cannot live on shrimp puffs alone.”  Bruce snorts a laugh, and Tony holds out his hand. “Plus, there’s always an uptick in LGBT donors when I remind the universe about my great big blinking B. And while you aren’t my B—or boo, I think people are using the term ‘boo,’ now—I figure—”

“Will dancing with you end this conversation?” Bruce interrupts.

Tony grins and waggles his eyebrows.  “Only one way to find out.”

The next day, the newspaper article on the yearly Urban Ascent fundraiser features a picture of Tony Stark dancing with “Urban Ascent supporter and local child welfare attorney, Bruce Banner.”

And years later, when Bruce moves into Tony’s house, he finds the old article in the back of a notebook and smiles.

Happy Anniversary, Bruce & Tony!

This morning, Sara e-mailed me to point out that today–December 16, 2013–is Tony and Bruce’s one-year wedding anniversary in the MPU. I spent the entire day grinning to myself like a total idiot, because I freaking love these boys. It made an extremely long day completely better. (And yes, I am a horrible writer for forgetting, but life’s been crazy lately.)

In honor of this big day, I’ve written some little anniversary drabbles. They’re nothing special–except they celebrate these wonderful, lovely, broken goobers who somehow fell in love (and started a family, all by accident).


Tony buys Bruce an anniversary gift every month.

He disguises them as random acts of kindness—appearing ten minutes before lunch with a giant container of Indian food, adding a new plant to his window sill, sending Miles to Ganke’s for the night and then dragging him to a movie—but Bruce knows better. Because each time, when Tony’s eyes linger a little longer or he smiles a little brighter, Bruce suddenly remembers what day it is.

Tony never acknowledges the importance of the sixteenth beyond the gift.

In a way, though, the actions are louder than a thousand words.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

MPU prompt: Bruce interacting with Obadiah Stane one-on-one, without Tony or anyone else as a buffer.

“So, what’s your actual deal?” Obadiah Stane asks.

Bruce pauses, his glass halfway to his lips. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve looked you up. Slightly sordid past, but you made good. Three degrees, beautiful ex-girlfriend, more articles than I can count.” He lifts an hors d’oeuvre from a passing tray and pops it into his mouth. “All that, and you decide to marry Tony. You could do a whole lot better.” B

ruce follows Stane’s gaze over to where Tony’s holding court with a gaggle of Urban Ascent donors. They’re laughing, and Tony’s flashing them his warmest grin.

“No,” he replies, “I couldn’t.”

A thought occurs to me:

Please, if you will, picture Assistant District Attorney Clint Barton when he encounters his first case of “distracted driving – playing the pokemon game.”

He squints at the copy of the ticket (a digital scan that perfectly captures the officer’s chicken-scratch handwriting), confused. He tilts his head left and right, not necessarily because he’s not heard of this new Pokemon bullshit (of course he’s heard about it, Wade posts daily Facebook updates about his latest catches, Tony and Miles keep competing to find the rare ones), but because people don’t actually play while driving. Right? ‘Cause he’s not exactly a saint in the driver’s seat, either, but playing a location-based game in traffic’s gotta be the dumbest

He says all this at lunch, of course, and Tony laughs hard enough that he almost hurts himself.  “How else am I supposed to clean out all the Pokestops in the neighborhood?” he demands, raising his hands when Bruce shoots him a dirty look. “Not with the kids in the car. Miles already declared that a party foul.”

“Please tell me that’s not the only reason,” Natasha mutters.

Tony waves her off, and Clint just stares at him. Except gaping over at Tony’s side of the table means noticing the way Bucky and Steve keep avoiding his eyes. He groans. “Not you! You’re supposed to be the voices of reason!”

Steve pinks up immediately. “We’re not proud of it,” he defends. “We just grew up on Pokemon, you know?”

“Gotta catch ‘em all,” Bucky agrees. The way he says it, it sounds like the end of a prayer.

Clint rubs a hand over his face. “It’s like we’re in some fucked-up alternate reality where I’m the only mature adult in the bunch,” he mutters.

Natasha pats his leg. “Don’t worry,” she soothes. “The next season of House of Cards will drop soon. Give you something to watch in the car.”

Everybody’s heads snap up in creepy unison, and Clint sighs.

He hates everything.