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ysabetwordsmithThis story was written for the Asexy Valentines Fest, partly inspired by aceofannwn. It also fills the "game night" square on my card for the ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trope_bingo fest. This fest features fundamental motifs that will be familiar to most readers. It encourages writers to analyze storylines and characters, then reinterpret them in new ways.
Fandom: The Avengers
Characters: Phil Coulson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanova, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Nick Fury, JARVIS
Medium: Fiction
Warnings: No standard warnings apply.
Summary: Phil Coulson is SHIELD's best handler for a reason: he can deal with the broken people that nobody else can manage but desperately need anyway. So he comes up with an unusual teambuilding idea to shore up the Avengers.
Notes: Asexual character. Aromantic character. Asexual relationship. Flangst. Dysfunctional dynamics. Mention of past abuse. Incidental self-injury. Non-sexual ageplay. Games. Cuteness. Teambuilding. Personal growth. Howard Stark's A+ parenting. Hurt/comfort. Trust issues. Making up for lost time. Odin's A+ parenting. Teamwork. Family of choice.
Begin with Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7. Skip to Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14.
"Love Is for Children" Part 8
"Things usually lighten up when we start the actual games," Phil said, with a nod to the frozen Smurf images on the viewscreen. The team needed time to interact as people, not just superheroes, as casually as possible. That was another reason for choosing this particular exercise. Slowly but surely, they were learning to live with each other -- and with themselves. "Being out of uniform helps too."
"Yeah, I feel a little overdressed," Steve admitted. He wasn't in uniform but was in a button-down shirt and neatly pressed trousers. Bruce wore brown-and-tan plaid footie pajamas, while Natka's were white with little dancing bears printed all over.
"So go change clothes," Phil said.
Steve blushed. "I, um, don't have anything appropriate to wear. I just sleep in my skivvies."
Fury hadn't bothered to provide sleepwear? And of course Steve, with his Depression-era background, wouldn't spend money on anything nonessential. Phil fumed, but kept his temper carefully off his face. "Then it's a good thing I came prepared," he said. After Tony showed up unexpectedly, Phil had stocked the game closet with everything he could imagine needing. He brought out a package still wrapped in its original tissue paper from the shipping box. "Here you go."
Steve peeled back the layers to reveal vintage-style Brooklyn Dodgers uniform pajamas rendered in thick flannel. There were matching house shoes in the same practical model as Phil's own, with synthetic soles for traction on smooth floors. The set made a subtle, elegant compromise between historic and modern elements. "Oh," Steve breathed. "I always wanted something like this but we could never afford--" He flung his arms around Phil in a tight hug. "Thank you so much!"
"You're welcome," Phil said as Steve let go. Steve seemed to have an easier time with this exercise when reacting to other people, rather than trying to think of actions on his own. So Phil gave him another prompt. "Now go change clothes and wash up. I'll reheat the leftover SpaghettiOs for you, and there are a few breadsticks left too." He didn't ask if Steve was hungry, because with the super-soldier metabolism, Steve was always hungry.
"I don't want to be any trouble. You don't have to --" Steve began.
"I am not feeding you cold supper," Phil said firmly. He turned Steve toward the bathroom and gave him a gentle push between the shoulderblades. "Go. It'll be ready when you come back." Sending Steve to wash would also give Phil a chance to microwave a package of peas and carrots, because Steve liked vegetables.
By the time Steve came out, dressed in his new pajamas, Phil had finished Tony's scolding (half of dozen variations of "Don't do things that could get you hurt!") and also had the food ready. Steve looked squeaky clean -- but his hair was a bird's nest. He never showed up looking so sloppy. He must have run wet fingers through his hair to make it stand up like that.
Now why in the world would he do that? It's completely unlike him, Phil thought.
Steve looked at Phil with an expectant expression. "I washed up," he announced.
Clearly he wants something out of this, but what? Phil wondered. Then he remembered the single grainy photo rescued from Erskine's records, taken at the recruitment station, showing a pre-serum, pre-army Steve. His hair had looked just like that, a hopelessly tangled mess. Who would have thought that something like hair would change? Yet apparently it had. Super-Steve's hair tended to stay perfectly in place unless he stuck his head outside the Helicarrier. Little-Steve, not so much.
Phil made a show of frowning at him. "It looks to me like you washed your hands and face, but forgot to comb your hair."
"Sorry, sir," Steve said. He ducked his head and shuffled his feet. "I comb it but it never stays."
"Bring me the comb," Phil instructed.
Soon Steve came back with one of the little plastic combs that they kept as spares in all the bathrooms. Now Phil thought back to some of the other old photos of Steve. He'd worn his hair differently than the more modern style he used now. Carefully Phil stroked the comb through Steve's hair, flicking the part into place along a perfectly straight line. It stayed put.
"There now, that's better," Phil said.
"Thanks, Uncle Phil," Steve said with a smile. So Phil had guessed right.
"Eat your supper," Phil said, guiding him to the couch.
Steve glanced at the large amount of food on the coffee table, then gave Phil a dubious look. "Um ..." said Steve.
"And clean your plate," Phil added. He had a suspicion that Steve wasn't eating enough, because he never kept eating after other people stopped. If he didn't snack between meals, he couldn't possibly keep up with his body's enhanced demands. So Phil had simply piled up four servings of everything, basing that on Steve's four-times-average metabolism.
It almost worked. Steve made his way through the SpaghettiOs and vegetables while Clint played the Smurf game again. Tony was playing peek-a-boo with Bruce around the coffee table.
"Did you get enough to eat?" Phil asked when Steve finished.
"My plate's clean," Steve said earnestly. His blue eyes looked huge and bright as he met Phil's gaze.
Gotcha, Phil thought. So Steve was shorting himself. If he hadn't been eating properly, no wonder a normal-for-Steve portion hadn't filled him up.
"That's not what I asked," Phil said. "Are you still hungry, Steve? Tell me the truth, not what you think is polite."
"Yes, sir," Steve admitted, looking down.
"Then I'll go get dessert," Phil said. There was a chocolate cake in the kitchen. He cut it in half, then reduced one half to five slices to be distributed among the team. He put the remaining half in front of Steve.
"You don't have to eat that all at once," Phil explained, "but I do expect you to finish it by the end of game night."
Steve gave him a nervous smile and dug into the cake. Phil made a mental note to remind him -- in private -- that it wasn't necessary to "make things last" anymore, that Steve could eat as much as he needed. It wouldn't do him or the team any good if he went light-headed because he hadn't filled up properly.
Clint wolfed down his slice of cake and went back to the video game. Tony ate with brisk efficiency. Bruce and Natka savored theirs. She disappeared under the coffee table as soon as she was done. Bruce licked the icing off his plate with careful sweeps of his pink tongue. He watched Phil warily over the rim of the plate as he did so. Phil waited until Bruce finished, then wet a napkin and scrubbed the icing off his face. Only when Bruce was clean did Phil let him squirm away.
Tony leaned against Steve's legs, resting his head on one wide knee. Steve stroked a hand over Tony's head and down his back. His fingers traced the familiar stripes, sign of a lifelong devotion that had only just come together. "You were right about this," Steve murmured to Phil.
"Oh?" Phil said.
"It feels good to take care of people ... and the other part, too," Steve said.
Phil smiled. "Yes," he said simply.
Bruce crept out from under the coffee table to tug at Tony's sleeve. Tony rubbed against Steve's hand, then pulled away. Steve let him go. Carefully Steve stretched his long legs past the end of the coffee table so as to avoid the scramble of bodies on the floor.
Tony and Bruce started playing Concentration with cards that they had drawn in crayon, illustrating the elements of the periodic table. Tony swore that his father had played with a set of similar cards when Tony was little. Phil suspected that Howard had indeed owned some kind of element cards but that they hadn't been the game a younger Tony had thought. The crayons had been a fun touch, though.
Phil could hardly wait to see Steve's reaction to the box of 120 Crayolas. The tower had an actual art studio stocked with all kinds of supplies, because Tony wanted Steve to feel at home. But nothing compared to flopping down on the carpet to color.
* * *
Notes:
Concentration is a memory game where players try to find pairs of matching cards. It can be played with pretty much any subject matter.
120 is currently the largest box of crayons offered by Crayola.
[To be continued in Part 9 ...]
aceofannwn. It also fills the "game night" square on my card for the trope_bingo fest. This fest features fundamental motifs that will be familiar to most readers. It encourages writers to analyze storylines and characters, then reinterpret them in new ways. Fandom: The Avengers
Characters: Phil Coulson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanova, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Nick Fury, JARVIS
Medium: Fiction
Warnings: No standard warnings apply.
Summary: Phil Coulson is SHIELD's best handler for a reason: he can deal with the broken people that nobody else can manage but desperately need anyway. So he comes up with an unusual teambuilding idea to shore up the Avengers.
Notes: Asexual character. Aromantic character. Asexual relationship. Flangst. Dysfunctional dynamics. Mention of past abuse. Incidental self-injury. Non-sexual ageplay. Games. Cuteness. Teambuilding. Personal growth. Howard Stark's A+ parenting. Hurt/comfort. Trust issues. Making up for lost time. Odin's A+ parenting. Teamwork. Family of choice.
Begin with Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7. Skip to Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14.
"Love Is for Children" Part 8
"Things usually lighten up when we start the actual games," Phil said, with a nod to the frozen Smurf images on the viewscreen. The team needed time to interact as people, not just superheroes, as casually as possible. That was another reason for choosing this particular exercise. Slowly but surely, they were learning to live with each other -- and with themselves. "Being out of uniform helps too."
"Yeah, I feel a little overdressed," Steve admitted. He wasn't in uniform but was in a button-down shirt and neatly pressed trousers. Bruce wore brown-and-tan plaid footie pajamas, while Natka's were white with little dancing bears printed all over.
"So go change clothes," Phil said.
Steve blushed. "I, um, don't have anything appropriate to wear. I just sleep in my skivvies."
Fury hadn't bothered to provide sleepwear? And of course Steve, with his Depression-era background, wouldn't spend money on anything nonessential. Phil fumed, but kept his temper carefully off his face. "Then it's a good thing I came prepared," he said. After Tony showed up unexpectedly, Phil had stocked the game closet with everything he could imagine needing. He brought out a package still wrapped in its original tissue paper from the shipping box. "Here you go."
Steve peeled back the layers to reveal vintage-style Brooklyn Dodgers uniform pajamas rendered in thick flannel. There were matching house shoes in the same practical model as Phil's own, with synthetic soles for traction on smooth floors. The set made a subtle, elegant compromise between historic and modern elements. "Oh," Steve breathed. "I always wanted something like this but we could never afford--" He flung his arms around Phil in a tight hug. "Thank you so much!"
"You're welcome," Phil said as Steve let go. Steve seemed to have an easier time with this exercise when reacting to other people, rather than trying to think of actions on his own. So Phil gave him another prompt. "Now go change clothes and wash up. I'll reheat the leftover SpaghettiOs for you, and there are a few breadsticks left too." He didn't ask if Steve was hungry, because with the super-soldier metabolism, Steve was always hungry.
"I don't want to be any trouble. You don't have to --" Steve began.
"I am not feeding you cold supper," Phil said firmly. He turned Steve toward the bathroom and gave him a gentle push between the shoulderblades. "Go. It'll be ready when you come back." Sending Steve to wash would also give Phil a chance to microwave a package of peas and carrots, because Steve liked vegetables.
By the time Steve came out, dressed in his new pajamas, Phil had finished Tony's scolding (half of dozen variations of "Don't do things that could get you hurt!") and also had the food ready. Steve looked squeaky clean -- but his hair was a bird's nest. He never showed up looking so sloppy. He must have run wet fingers through his hair to make it stand up like that.
Now why in the world would he do that? It's completely unlike him, Phil thought.
Steve looked at Phil with an expectant expression. "I washed up," he announced.
Clearly he wants something out of this, but what? Phil wondered. Then he remembered the single grainy photo rescued from Erskine's records, taken at the recruitment station, showing a pre-serum, pre-army Steve. His hair had looked just like that, a hopelessly tangled mess. Who would have thought that something like hair would change? Yet apparently it had. Super-Steve's hair tended to stay perfectly in place unless he stuck his head outside the Helicarrier. Little-Steve, not so much.
Phil made a show of frowning at him. "It looks to me like you washed your hands and face, but forgot to comb your hair."
"Sorry, sir," Steve said. He ducked his head and shuffled his feet. "I comb it but it never stays."
"Bring me the comb," Phil instructed.
Soon Steve came back with one of the little plastic combs that they kept as spares in all the bathrooms. Now Phil thought back to some of the other old photos of Steve. He'd worn his hair differently than the more modern style he used now. Carefully Phil stroked the comb through Steve's hair, flicking the part into place along a perfectly straight line. It stayed put.
"There now, that's better," Phil said.
"Thanks, Uncle Phil," Steve said with a smile. So Phil had guessed right.
"Eat your supper," Phil said, guiding him to the couch.
Steve glanced at the large amount of food on the coffee table, then gave Phil a dubious look. "Um ..." said Steve.
"And clean your plate," Phil added. He had a suspicion that Steve wasn't eating enough, because he never kept eating after other people stopped. If he didn't snack between meals, he couldn't possibly keep up with his body's enhanced demands. So Phil had simply piled up four servings of everything, basing that on Steve's four-times-average metabolism.
It almost worked. Steve made his way through the SpaghettiOs and vegetables while Clint played the Smurf game again. Tony was playing peek-a-boo with Bruce around the coffee table.
"Did you get enough to eat?" Phil asked when Steve finished.
"My plate's clean," Steve said earnestly. His blue eyes looked huge and bright as he met Phil's gaze.
Gotcha, Phil thought. So Steve was shorting himself. If he hadn't been eating properly, no wonder a normal-for-Steve portion hadn't filled him up.
"That's not what I asked," Phil said. "Are you still hungry, Steve? Tell me the truth, not what you think is polite."
"Yes, sir," Steve admitted, looking down.
"Then I'll go get dessert," Phil said. There was a chocolate cake in the kitchen. He cut it in half, then reduced one half to five slices to be distributed among the team. He put the remaining half in front of Steve.
"You don't have to eat that all at once," Phil explained, "but I do expect you to finish it by the end of game night."
Steve gave him a nervous smile and dug into the cake. Phil made a mental note to remind him -- in private -- that it wasn't necessary to "make things last" anymore, that Steve could eat as much as he needed. It wouldn't do him or the team any good if he went light-headed because he hadn't filled up properly.
Clint wolfed down his slice of cake and went back to the video game. Tony ate with brisk efficiency. Bruce and Natka savored theirs. She disappeared under the coffee table as soon as she was done. Bruce licked the icing off his plate with careful sweeps of his pink tongue. He watched Phil warily over the rim of the plate as he did so. Phil waited until Bruce finished, then wet a napkin and scrubbed the icing off his face. Only when Bruce was clean did Phil let him squirm away.
Tony leaned against Steve's legs, resting his head on one wide knee. Steve stroked a hand over Tony's head and down his back. His fingers traced the familiar stripes, sign of a lifelong devotion that had only just come together. "You were right about this," Steve murmured to Phil.
"Oh?" Phil said.
"It feels good to take care of people ... and the other part, too," Steve said.
Phil smiled. "Yes," he said simply.
Bruce crept out from under the coffee table to tug at Tony's sleeve. Tony rubbed against Steve's hand, then pulled away. Steve let him go. Carefully Steve stretched his long legs past the end of the coffee table so as to avoid the scramble of bodies on the floor.
Tony and Bruce started playing Concentration with cards that they had drawn in crayon, illustrating the elements of the periodic table. Tony swore that his father had played with a set of similar cards when Tony was little. Phil suspected that Howard had indeed owned some kind of element cards but that they hadn't been the game a younger Tony had thought. The crayons had been a fun touch, though.
Phil could hardly wait to see Steve's reaction to the box of 120 Crayolas. The tower had an actual art studio stocked with all kinds of supplies, because Tony wanted Steve to feel at home. But nothing compared to flopping down on the carpet to color.
* * *
Notes:
Concentration is a memory game where players try to find pairs of matching cards. It can be played with pretty much any subject matter.
120 is currently the largest box of crayons offered by Crayola.
[To be continued in Part 9 ...]
(no subject)
Date: 2014-02-24 03:56 pm (UTC)Thoughts
Date: 2014-02-25 08:38 pm (UTC)Which story? I've seen this motif a few times, and I like it.
>> Tony's reaction was interesting, he said that he had enough money to feed Africa, and was feeding the parts that let him, so it was ridiculous for someone living in his own house to be starving. <<
Good point.
>> Then everyone on the team got into Project: Feed Steve. Even Hulk got in on it. <<
Hulk feeding Steve, that's adorable.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2014-02-26 03:20 am (UTC)I'm not sure, it was on the, well, *blushes* it was on the avengers meme, I'll try to find it for you if you want.
>> Hulk feeding Steve, that's adorable. <<
It was less him feeding Steve, and more him defending Steve's eating habits from nosy reporters trying to shame him about 'encouraging the obesity epidemic', but it was adorable. Thor's part was adorable, as well. He went out and killed a large, Asgardian something-or-other, and cooked it for Steve.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2014-02-26 05:21 am (UTC)I try not to make people feel ashamed of what they're reading. If it makes you happy, go for it. I would enjoy seeing this, if it's not too much bother to track down.
>> It was less him feeding Steve, and more him defending Steve's eating habits from nosy reporters trying to shame him about 'encouraging the obesity epidemic', but it was adorable. <<
Wow, dick move on the part of the reporters.
>> Thor's part was adorable, as well. He went out and killed a large, Asgardian something-or-other, and cooked it for Steve. <<
So cute!
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2014-02-26 11:14 pm (UTC)Re: Thoughts
Date: 2014-02-26 11:20 pm (UTC)Re: Thoughts
Date: 2014-02-27 02:36 am (UTC)http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/8247.html?thread=18347831#t18347831
I hope it works, I have precisely zero html skills.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2014-02-27 03:23 am (UTC)Re: Thoughts
Date: 2014-02-27 03:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-06-24 04:42 am (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2014-06-24 05:52 am (UTC)Food Glorious food
Date: 2014-09-23 06:40 pm (UTC)Re: Food Glorious food
Date: 2014-09-24 04:59 am (UTC)Exactly. He never really had a chance to develop a healthy relationship with food until now.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-11-27 02:00 am (UTC)Yes...
Date: 2015-11-27 02:34 am (UTC)The story
Date: 2015-12-05 07:37 pm (UTC)