prompt: Tony and Steve sparring/training one-on-one in the SLR verse please

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Steve takes his time, putting the wrappings around his hands. Tony is already in the ring, bouncing, jabbing, warming up.

Steve takes a breath, closing his eyes to feel the way, as he always does when he knows he’s on thin ice.

Tony’s smiling, darting and bright and not forced which is- wonderful. Steve slides in under the ropes and smiles back, drawing up his fists.

They’re not bothering with gloves, Tony doesn’t need them, not against Steve, and Steve-

Well, if he hits Tony, it wouldn’t make a difference either way.

He looks at Tony carefully, reading the muscles of his body, the set of his shoulders and core and face. Not just reading his intended attacks, but emotions, how he’s taking it.

If this works, it would be one more barrier down. A few inches more Tony will relax around him, a few less times his eyes grow cold and he sees friend of Howard Stark where Steve is standing.

If it doesn’t- everything they’re so tentatively felt out between them could collapse in cold flames.

Steve gives Tony an easy smile, tries to relax. Just sparring, with a friend. He enjoys this, he just needs to- not think, and stay absolutely on top of things, at the same time.

Thankfully, that’s exactly how Steve fights.

Tony dances, foot to foot, he’s got a good, featherweight style. Fast and sure and Steve revises his opinion, Tony’s had training, this isn’t simply his style in the suit-

Tony feints, and comes in, Steve moves to block but Tony’s fast- and comes in with the wrong arm, it hits Steve smart in the solar plexus, a fierce, stabbing jab, then out and back away.

Tony is looking at him, he’s still smiling, but there’s a note of warning there, if you let me do that-

“Okay,” Steve smiles, “You get that one for free.”

Tony nods, and Steve moves in, leg cutting in to get at Tony’s legs but- he’s fast, and maybe Steve’s advertised his movements too much because he’s out of range and dancing, two quick rabbit punches at Steve’s head.

Steve avoids the first one, the second connects and his teeth snap together. Then Tony circles, smile gone, frowning. “Is this a joke?”

Steve shakes his head, gets up. They’re on the edge now, feet slipping and sliding into the crumbling ice, the water roaring beneath their feet. “You’re good.”

“You’re- not?” Tony cocks an eyebrow.

“Tony, I had four weeks of basic training, then the- this-” he waves at his body, “Then I was in USO parades, and straight out to the front. No one trained me anything.”

“You’ve just been letting them hit you.” Tony stops bouncing leans against a post. He’s still half-frowning, but there’s a smile there too, Steve feels the ice underfoot harden, secure. “Did no one tell you that’s not how you do it?”

Steve shrugs, smiles. “I always got hit. These days, I just get to hit back.”

Tony laughs, bright and clear and breathless. “Right, okay. I can’t believe I’m training Captain America- unless you want me to call Happy, he’s the one who trained me?”

Steve shakes his head, “It’s you I’ll be fighting next to.”

“Then sure,” Tony shrugs, looks him up and down. “You’re kinda way above my weight, so we’ll have to get Happy in anyway, but I can show you basics.”

Steve smiles, and knows they’re off the ice now, solid stone and earth beneath them. 

I'm wondering about the aftermath of Happy Family!Newt's encounter with That Creature.

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Luckily, humans have odd ideas about what to do with their free time. Newt had walked past this shop several times and had gone in before, marveling at what humans- so far removed from pain and fear-  enjoy doing.

The cuffs are very solid, Newt went with thick bands of stitched leather, with padding on the inside. Newt is careful as he tightens them around Hermann’s ankles, the strap between them passed through the basement railings.

Hermann sits up on his elbows, looks up at him. Newt crouches down beside him, close, but just out of reach. “Ready?”

“Never.” Hermann sighs, and closes his eyes.

When he opens them again, there’s someone else behind them.

Newt goes cold all over. Panic claws at his stomach and he wants to run, every instinct screaming to get away before those claws flash, those jaws sink into his throat-

He forces himself still, breathless and lifeless as those sharp eyes cast over him.

He’s looking for a threat. He can read that much. Newt hunkers down, trying not to look dangerous. It’s a waste of time, he can’t hide anything from those cutting, killing eyes.

But whatever they saw seems to have been enough, because the Victor’s taut muscles relax. He rises on all six legs, turns his back on Newt and oh Newt can breathe again, because the Victor would never, never turn his back on anything he wanted to kill.

The Victor takes a step, the leather ties snap tight and it stops, back legs nearly torn out from under him. He turns his head, eyes wide.

A tremor begins in his hindquarters, rising up the length of that long, lean body. The Victor moans, shuddering, it pulls at the restrains, but not with the terrible strength Newt has seen before. But a helpless, limp, trembling motions, barely rattling the D rings.

Newt suddenly wonders if Hermann had ever been tied up before, and knows, sharp as a tooth, who had done it.

What had done it.

Newt is down by his feet in moments, he ignores the huge talons, the lashing tails, and unbuckles the straps. Hermann hurls himself free in less than a heartbeat, clawing away and backing up against the wall.

Newt hesitates for a moment, then follows him. He crouches in front of him, looks into those dark, wild eyes. The Victor blinks at him, fearful and lost.

“Hey,” Newt whispers, “You’re okay.”

The Victor stares at him, he doesn’t understand. Newt tries to send warmth and comfort through the Hive, it seems to work, the huge claws slowly creep back into their sheathes, then long legs are drawn up to the ridged chest,

Newt sits beside him, he reaches up and gently nudges his hand closer and closer. The Victor’s eyes follow his hand, close when he rests it on his shoulder, rubs gentle circles on the junction of shoulder and neck.

There’s a heartbeat between them, his arm a bridge between them. Then suddenly, the Victor moves.

Newt doesn’t have time to run, when suddenly he’s on him, the lean weight of him, the claws pressed tight against his chest, the teeth pressed tight against his throat. Newt closes his eyes- hopes it will be fast-

But the claws don’t dig into his tender belly, the teeth don’t bite. Instead, the Victor curls into a tight little ball against him, trembling, a low moan breaking through his throat.

He’s crying.

“Hey, hey.” Newt’s hands tremble, but he puts them around the Victor anyway, pulling him close. “It’s okay. They aren’t here, just us. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

And maybe some of that made it through the Hive, because the Victor’s eyes close, and he goes lax against Newt, the trembling slowly fades.

Newt holds him tight, whispers nonsense into Hermann’s shoulder until, pressed tight as they can together, no breath between them, they sleep.

Strayverse au: herc, chuck, and newt have to move in with stacker, mako, and hermann for a week whil

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“I can take the garage-”

“Don’t be absurd.” Stacker says briskly, taking one of the cases. “Everyone knows, and my bed is more than large enough.”

“I-” Herc looks away. “Stacker, I haven’t slept in the same bed with someone since-”

Stacker pauses, the case balanced in his hands. “I see.” He says softly. “If you need the space, please say, I can take the sofa or- we have a camp bed.”

Herc takes a breath. “I’ll try.”

There’s a thump from upstairs. They both look up, and sigh in unison. The moment broken, they smile. There’s another hail of bumps and bangs as Chuck protests their forced move.

“At least Newt’s easy enough.” Herc sighs, and hikes their baggage up the stairs. “He and Hermann are going to be up all night looking through that telescope.”

“Or sneaking out to find badgers and hedgehogs.” Stacker smiles, and they settle the bags in Stacker’s wardrobe.

Herc smiles back-

Then sees the bed.

It’s absurd, it’s not the first time he has seen the bed. It’s not the first time he has seen the bed, it’s not the first time he and Stacker have spent time in it for that matter. But he’s never spent the night before.

It feels- like a betrayal. Angela’s been dead for three years now, she wouldn’t have cared. She would be glad he was finding love and caring somewhere.

It still feels wrong. And it’s Chuck’s snarling voice that sounds in his head, condemning.

Stacker hesitates, one hand on the bedknob. “Herc-”

Herc sighs, he takes a step and rests his head on Stacker’s shoulder. There are no words between them, none of them are the right shape, and they wouldn’t fit anyway,

He can hear Chuck thumping in the spare room, Mako and Newt and Hermann talking muffled a few rooms away. He can hear Stacker’s heart beating, just under his ear.