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om_mainTony and Harry watch Steve and Pete beat the hell out of each other, for fun.
Steve grinned ear to ear as he warmed up, alternating between bouncing on his toes and swinging his arms side to side to loosen up his shoulders. "Are you two going to bet on us?" he asked, teasing, tossing a smirk to Tony and, by extension, Harry. Normally he wouldn't act like this around people he didn't know, but it was hard to tamp it down around Tony these days, and he was too excited to try, besides. "That sounds like something rich people would do."
Peter, who was stretching too, made a humor-filled scoffing sound, “Nah, betting on a fight is too mundane. Rich people only bet on things like the most dangerous game, and competitive spending.” He flashed Harry a grin.
"Don't forget peasant burninating," Harry threw in with a smirk. He leaned against the wall next to Tony, a perpetual and genuinely amused little smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he wasn't being a smart ass. The juxtaposition of the two boys before them was an interesting one: compact, wiry-strong Pete and brick shithouse Steve. This should be interesting.
"Also, that sounded like a challenge to me," Tony said in a lazy drawl, and made a show of slumping farther back against the wall. No, no interest there, he was just in it for the floor show. Naturally. "And here I thought this was supposed to be honorable gladiatorial combat."
Steve flashed a grin to Pete. "Oh, you're right. Betting on fights is far too plebeian." He turned to Tony as he stretched his arms over his head, then reached down to touch his toes, shooting him a perfectly innocent look. "We are honorable. You two aren't fighting, so it doesn't matter what you do."
He turned to face Pete again and grinned, big and excited. "You ready?"
“In gladiatorial combat, people voted whether someone lived or died,” Peter pointed out and then held his thumb and forefinger a tiny distance apart. “I think betting is slightly more tame than that. Plus,” he pointed at Steve, “what he said.” Which brought him to...
Peter grinned at Steve, “Totally ready. Born ready.”
"He's gonna win," Harry said with another, harder little smirk in Tony's direction. But his eyes were on Peter, so it was clear who he meant.
"Who's winning? I'm just in it for the eyecandy," Tony said solemnly, ignoring Harry's look through sheer force of will.
Steve blushed just very little as he ran through his gear, tugging the laces of his boots, giving his shoulders a final testing roll. "Right," he said with a note of finality, and he shot Tony a final big grin before heading down into the actual gym. "Wish me luck."
Walking backwards, Peter gave Harry, and by extension, Tony, a salute. “See you on the other side, guys!”
Harry cocked a lopsided smile. "Eyecandy indeed, he murmured for Tony's ears only, returning the salute.
Tony just smirked at both of them and leaned into Harry a little. "I feel like we should get popcorn."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Once in the gym proper, Steve offered out a hand to Pete to shake. "Don't go easy on me," he said with a little half grin. "Short of taking my head off, anything you do to me will be better in a day or two." Well, broken bones, they'd hypothesized, would take about a week, but still. He wasn't too concerned.
Peter accepted Steve’s hand, which easily dwarfed his own, and shook it. “Don’t go easy on me either,” he replied with a grin of his own. “I’m tougher than I look.” He bounced on his toes a little after they’d released hands. Man, he was so excited to finally have someone he could really go toe to toe with.
"Deal."
Steve quickly bounced back several steps after that,that putting some space between them. The scenario they'd set up was a simple one, with things to use for cover, to climb, and utilize. He threw numbers counting down from three, then, to the untrained eye, seemed to just stand there. But he was watching, waiting to catch a sign of movement, muscles tensed and ready to spring into action at the first sign of anything.
Peter bounced on his toes again and threw up his hands like a boxer readying himself for a match. “Come on, Steve!” he called, his smile in his voice. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little spider!” Something in him had changed minutely the moment the proverbial gong had rung. He held himself more comfortably, with a confidence that wasn’t often present.
Steve couldn't help but grin, and his head was still facing Pete, but his eyes were flicking spot to spot, examining their surroundings, building strategies. "Does goading typically work?"
A shrug, “Usually. When it doesn’t, I find a your momma joke does the trick,” Peter joked, all relaxed, loose limbs compared to Steve’s tautness. “Does standing around waiting for the other guy to make the first move typically work?”
Steve grinned bigger now. "Nah, I'm always the first to swing. I'm dumb like that."
And with that, he decided to be the guy to end the stalemate, because, well, it wasn’t like he minded a little pain anyway. He took off at a dead run, picking up speed, and, without telegraphing the movement in any visual way, ducked into a slide, intending to go straight past him, his arm shooting out only a second before it needed too, intending to grab Peter's ankle and pull his feet right out from under him.
Peter’s spidey-senses buzzed a warning and, just as quickly, he jumped. Planting a foot on Steve’s shoulder, he pushed off of him and flipped in the air, landing on his feet, facing Steve and grinning. “Ooh, so close!” he called out Steve, laughing.
Wanting to use Steve’s miss against him, Peter rushed right back in as Steve got back onto his feet, throwing a punch the moment he was close enough.
The foot on Steve's shoulder had him skidding to stop faster than he'd anticipated, but he adjusted, throwing his weight to the side so that he was half to his feet before Peter hit the ground. He appreciated the flip, hoped there was video here so he could really pay attention to it later, when he could give it the focus it deserved.
He expected the punch, ducked it in an easy motion that transformed into a spin, sweeping his leg out to kick Peter's out from under him. If he could get him to the ground, he might be able to get enough hits to give himself an advantage.
***
Harry had never seen this up close and personal, and he watched with open interest. It made him wonder if Peter really even had a choice; he looked so natural, dancing around Steve's powerhouse moves out there, that Harry had the sudden realization that Peter was Spiderman. Not the costume or the persona, but the way all his awkwardness just melted when he slipped into it, the way the dorky cracks turned into pointed provocations.
"Beats the ballet," he said flippantly to Tony, but his gaze told a different story.
It took a moment for Tony to even register anything had been said, considering how much of his attention had gone straight to the show in front of them. He'd seen Steve in full form before, but watching when you didn't have to worry about actually ducking one of those fists was a whole different ballgame. Steve was surprisingly agile for someone his size, but Peter was something else altogether, and the part of his brain that never quite shut down went into overdrive calculating angles and leverage and pounds per inch.
It was more than a little distracting. But mostly, he'd been right to begin with -- it was a hell of a show.
"The big one's mine," Tony said, once the words finally filtered through the rest of the noise in his brain. Occupied or not, it was an important thing to get across. "Hands off, Osborn."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Harry said with a little smirk. Then he pulled his gaze off the action long enough to fix Tony with a brief sideways look. "Congratulations, though."
Well that was enough to pull his attention towards Harry, at least for a moment. "For what?" Tony asked with an arched eyebrow.
"On the big one being yours," Harry replied, still smirking slightly. "I don't know about his taste, but not surprised yours is top shelf."
Tony just rolled his eyes. "Try not to spread it around," he said, knowing full well that Harry would get exactly what he meant. "I'd hate for people to start pitying him already."
Harry's smirk turned into something more like an actual smile as he returned his mostly full attention to the fight. "Understood, man. I'll pity him on my own, for now."
***
“Whoa!” Peter shouted out with a laugh, jumping over the leg sweep. Steve was so fast--This was awesome!
Peter immediately rolled backwards and popped back onto his feet, firing both web-shooters at Steve’s wrists. If they hit their target, he immediately wrapped his hands around the biocable and yanked hard downward and diagonally.
Steve went down with a hard thump and a grunt, but he quickly spun to his back, rounding his shoulders so the blades slid smoothly rather than bump painfully. He flipped up to his feet, but he was slow, so instead of going in for a shot, he dove and rolled behind a block, pressing against it for cover and peeking around the edge.
Firing his web-shooter toward the ceiling, Peter grabbed hold of the biocable and gave it a sharp, hard pull, stretching it like the band of a slingshot. It launched him upward and he let go just in time to sail the rest of the way up and land soundlessly on the rafters. He moved quietly, out of Steve’s line of sight.
Steve swore, ducking his head up and looking around, trying to figure out where Pete was. Maybe allowing the webshooters hadn't been a good idea- they had sounded fun when Pete brought them up, but he was suddenly realizing just how outgunned he was.
Well, he liked a challenge.
He stood and went into a hard run, climbing up a structure without sacrificing much in speed and then jumping, snatching the rafter and pulling himself up. He grinned and waved as he spotted Pete before running after him, navigating the beams as fast as he could without risking his balance.
“Oh, crap,” Peter said to himself. He shifted minutely, eyes on Steve, and carefully, secretly, attached a line of biocable to the rafter he stood upon. Wait for it. Waaaait for it. At the last possible second, he dropped. The biocable snapped tight and he swung outward, upward, letting go and spinning to land on the rafter behind Steve, facing him. “Yoo-hoo!” He tapped Steve on the shoulder and then, the moment he turned around, swung a fist.
The blow sang through his bones in a way he remembered, but had become unfamiliar. He immediately lost his footing, curling to protect his limbs before he got with a loud, heavy crash.
He groaned before pushing back up, leaning heavily on his knuckles, acknowledging in his mind that his left side was going to be one long bruise later. He got to his feet faster than he had to his knees, and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. When he grinned, it was red. "Nice shot."
Peter had immediately looked horrified when Steve had fallen from the rafters. “Oh my God,” he apologized as he lowered himself to the floor. “I’m so sorry! I--” The sight of Steve’s grin, ear-to-ear and like that had been the best thing that had ever happened to him, stopped him short. He grinned too, nearly as big. “Nice fall.”
"Thanks." Damn, Pete was fun. "I've had a lot of practice."
And then he was diving in again, grappling for Pete's shirt, hoping that he'd have just a little luck and be able to get his hands on him this time. That 'spider' sense was incredible- he was a little jealous, if he were to be perfectly honest.
Peter’s spidey-sense buzzed and he took a quick step back…which turned into a quick stumble. His arms pinwheeled as he started to fall back, and then Steve suddenly had him by the front of his shirt. “Whoa, man, watch the threads. They don’t just make these generic white t-shirts anywhere,” he joked.
"I'll buy you a new one," he said as he dragged Pete in, pushing his weight forward and trying to get his hands on him as he swiped at his legs. He had to hold on- that would be the thing that gave him a chance, he was sure of it.
Peter’s feet went out from under him and he went down, landing on his back hard enough to drive the air right out of his lungs. That would leave a mark.
Steve jumped on top, getting his legs around his waist with locked ankles, then went for his arms, trying to get off his Web shooters. Without them, Pete would be a more manageable threat.
Oh, crap! Crap, crap, crap, that was smart!
Peter quickly got his feet flat on the floor and twisted his hands to try to catch Steve’s wrists. “Sorry, not on the first date,” he said, when and if he did get a hold of him, and then pushed off the floor, flipping them over backwards to get himself on top.
Steve was laughing as he slammed back, and he squirmed and struggled underneath, trying to push Pete off of him. Shit, he was strong, and he didn't budge. His hands tried to curl up, scratching at Pete's hands with his blunt nails, trying to get some sort of traction, even a wedge of space to work with. When that didn't work, he bucked up, trying to arch and knock Pete off him, or get his feet underneath him.
Peter’s yelp of surprise at Steve’s, he had to say, pretty spot-on impression of a bucking bronco, quickly became a laugh. “Whoa!” Hooking his feet behind Steve’s ankles, he pressed his knees in tight against his hips. It was not an easy struggle--Steve was strong, stronger than anyone he’d come up against before.
Hoping he’d be able to hold Steve in place just for a little longer, Peter tried to pin his hands to the floor and then stick them there with webbing.
Steve swore loudly through a laugh as he strained against the webbing, face going red with effort, despite the fact he couldn't move them. If he had more leverage, he might have been able to do it. He arched his back off the ground, trying to knock Pete off, but after a solid few minutes of struggle, he fell back on the ground, panting and laughing. "Damn it, Pete."
Still sitting on Steve, Peter raised his arms over his head, victorious. “And Parker takes home the gold!” he crowed. “It’s the win of the century! A match that will go down in the history books! The crowd goes wild!” He imitated the roar of a crowd, fists still in the air.
Tony's eyebrows had hit his hairline the minute the amateur bondage started up -- it was probably the kind of thing he should have been objecting to, but really. The two of them looked so ridiculous it was kind of hard to be offended.
Plus, it was kind of good to know. For reasons.
But mindful of his role (and the fact that Steve and Peter had probably forgotten they were there), Tony did allow himself to applaud politely.
Harry also applauded, actually grinning at the amateur bondage. Oh, Peter, why must you be so perfect all the time? "Shoulda made that bet after all," he joked.
"Alright, get off of me," Steve grunted, but the was grinning, especially when he heard the applause. He strained up to grin over to Tony, even as his face was bloody. "I knew he'd kick my ass. He's fast as hell, and I think he's as strong as I am." His eyes were back on Pete and he raised an eyebrow. "Want to get this stuff off me?" he asked, pulling against the webbing once to illustrate.
Peter grinned at the applause too, giving Harry and Tony a wave before tearing off the webbing with a sharp tug. Clambering off of Steve, he offered a hand out to help him back onto his feet, grinning at him, “Told you I’m tougher than I look.”
"There is something deeply wrong with both of you," Tony informed them dryly, eyeing the almost identical pleased looks they were wearing. "But as long as you don't think I'm up next, I guess we can all live with it."
Harry was looking like he wouldn't mind a go, actually. It was hard not to wonder how his strength would stack up against Steve's--or Peter's--but he wasn't quite ready to suggest it. He just smirked and nodded in agreement.
Steve grinned at Tony as he wiped the sweat from his forehead and blood from his nose and chin onto his shirt, then came at Tony like he was going to hug him, abandoning at just the last moment to just rest his elbow on his shoulder.. "Aw, c'mon, Tony, where's your sense of adventure?" he asked with a big, asshole grin, then glanced over his shoulder. "Hey Pete! Choose where we eat after showers, I'm starving."
Peter didn’t hesitate in throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Chinese!” he immediately answered. He was starving and Chinese meant good food and a lot of it.
Tony flicked a dark look in Steve's direction -- he didn't need reminding that he was short, okay, and Steve was just a giant -- and shrugged slightly enough not to dislodge him. "I could go for Chinese," he said, just a touch too easily to be completely innocent and smiled. "Winner buys?"
"Winner buys," Harry agreed, grinning at Peter as he put an arm around his waist. And if, as the winner's patron, he was called on to do his part, of course he would.
Steve grinned ear to ear as he warmed up, alternating between bouncing on his toes and swinging his arms side to side to loosen up his shoulders. "Are you two going to bet on us?" he asked, teasing, tossing a smirk to Tony and, by extension, Harry. Normally he wouldn't act like this around people he didn't know, but it was hard to tamp it down around Tony these days, and he was too excited to try, besides. "That sounds like something rich people would do."
Peter, who was stretching too, made a humor-filled scoffing sound, “Nah, betting on a fight is too mundane. Rich people only bet on things like the most dangerous game, and competitive spending.” He flashed Harry a grin.
"Don't forget peasant burninating," Harry threw in with a smirk. He leaned against the wall next to Tony, a perpetual and genuinely amused little smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he wasn't being a smart ass. The juxtaposition of the two boys before them was an interesting one: compact, wiry-strong Pete and brick shithouse Steve. This should be interesting.
"Also, that sounded like a challenge to me," Tony said in a lazy drawl, and made a show of slumping farther back against the wall. No, no interest there, he was just in it for the floor show. Naturally. "And here I thought this was supposed to be honorable gladiatorial combat."
Steve flashed a grin to Pete. "Oh, you're right. Betting on fights is far too plebeian." He turned to Tony as he stretched his arms over his head, then reached down to touch his toes, shooting him a perfectly innocent look. "We are honorable. You two aren't fighting, so it doesn't matter what you do."
He turned to face Pete again and grinned, big and excited. "You ready?"
“In gladiatorial combat, people voted whether someone lived or died,” Peter pointed out and then held his thumb and forefinger a tiny distance apart. “I think betting is slightly more tame than that. Plus,” he pointed at Steve, “what he said.” Which brought him to...
Peter grinned at Steve, “Totally ready. Born ready.”
"He's gonna win," Harry said with another, harder little smirk in Tony's direction. But his eyes were on Peter, so it was clear who he meant.
"Who's winning? I'm just in it for the eyecandy," Tony said solemnly, ignoring Harry's look through sheer force of will.
Steve blushed just very little as he ran through his gear, tugging the laces of his boots, giving his shoulders a final testing roll. "Right," he said with a note of finality, and he shot Tony a final big grin before heading down into the actual gym. "Wish me luck."
Walking backwards, Peter gave Harry, and by extension, Tony, a salute. “See you on the other side, guys!”
Harry cocked a lopsided smile. "Eyecandy indeed, he murmured for Tony's ears only, returning the salute.
Tony just smirked at both of them and leaned into Harry a little. "I feel like we should get popcorn."
Once in the gym proper, Steve offered out a hand to Pete to shake. "Don't go easy on me," he said with a little half grin. "Short of taking my head off, anything you do to me will be better in a day or two." Well, broken bones, they'd hypothesized, would take about a week, but still. He wasn't too concerned.
Peter accepted Steve’s hand, which easily dwarfed his own, and shook it. “Don’t go easy on me either,” he replied with a grin of his own. “I’m tougher than I look.” He bounced on his toes a little after they’d released hands. Man, he was so excited to finally have someone he could really go toe to toe with.
"Deal."
Steve quickly bounced back several steps after that,that putting some space between them. The scenario they'd set up was a simple one, with things to use for cover, to climb, and utilize. He threw numbers counting down from three, then, to the untrained eye, seemed to just stand there. But he was watching, waiting to catch a sign of movement, muscles tensed and ready to spring into action at the first sign of anything.
Peter bounced on his toes again and threw up his hands like a boxer readying himself for a match. “Come on, Steve!” he called, his smile in his voice. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little spider!” Something in him had changed minutely the moment the proverbial gong had rung. He held himself more comfortably, with a confidence that wasn’t often present.
Steve couldn't help but grin, and his head was still facing Pete, but his eyes were flicking spot to spot, examining their surroundings, building strategies. "Does goading typically work?"
A shrug, “Usually. When it doesn’t, I find a your momma joke does the trick,” Peter joked, all relaxed, loose limbs compared to Steve’s tautness. “Does standing around waiting for the other guy to make the first move typically work?”
Steve grinned bigger now. "Nah, I'm always the first to swing. I'm dumb like that."
And with that, he decided to be the guy to end the stalemate, because, well, it wasn’t like he minded a little pain anyway. He took off at a dead run, picking up speed, and, without telegraphing the movement in any visual way, ducked into a slide, intending to go straight past him, his arm shooting out only a second before it needed too, intending to grab Peter's ankle and pull his feet right out from under him.
Peter’s spidey-senses buzzed a warning and, just as quickly, he jumped. Planting a foot on Steve’s shoulder, he pushed off of him and flipped in the air, landing on his feet, facing Steve and grinning. “Ooh, so close!” he called out Steve, laughing.
Wanting to use Steve’s miss against him, Peter rushed right back in as Steve got back onto his feet, throwing a punch the moment he was close enough.
The foot on Steve's shoulder had him skidding to stop faster than he'd anticipated, but he adjusted, throwing his weight to the side so that he was half to his feet before Peter hit the ground. He appreciated the flip, hoped there was video here so he could really pay attention to it later, when he could give it the focus it deserved.
He expected the punch, ducked it in an easy motion that transformed into a spin, sweeping his leg out to kick Peter's out from under him. If he could get him to the ground, he might be able to get enough hits to give himself an advantage.
***
Harry had never seen this up close and personal, and he watched with open interest. It made him wonder if Peter really even had a choice; he looked so natural, dancing around Steve's powerhouse moves out there, that Harry had the sudden realization that Peter was Spiderman. Not the costume or the persona, but the way all his awkwardness just melted when he slipped into it, the way the dorky cracks turned into pointed provocations.
"Beats the ballet," he said flippantly to Tony, but his gaze told a different story.
It took a moment for Tony to even register anything had been said, considering how much of his attention had gone straight to the show in front of them. He'd seen Steve in full form before, but watching when you didn't have to worry about actually ducking one of those fists was a whole different ballgame. Steve was surprisingly agile for someone his size, but Peter was something else altogether, and the part of his brain that never quite shut down went into overdrive calculating angles and leverage and pounds per inch.
It was more than a little distracting. But mostly, he'd been right to begin with -- it was a hell of a show.
"The big one's mine," Tony said, once the words finally filtered through the rest of the noise in his brain. Occupied or not, it was an important thing to get across. "Hands off, Osborn."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Harry said with a little smirk. Then he pulled his gaze off the action long enough to fix Tony with a brief sideways look. "Congratulations, though."
Well that was enough to pull his attention towards Harry, at least for a moment. "For what?" Tony asked with an arched eyebrow.
"On the big one being yours," Harry replied, still smirking slightly. "I don't know about his taste, but not surprised yours is top shelf."
Tony just rolled his eyes. "Try not to spread it around," he said, knowing full well that Harry would get exactly what he meant. "I'd hate for people to start pitying him already."
Harry's smirk turned into something more like an actual smile as he returned his mostly full attention to the fight. "Understood, man. I'll pity him on my own, for now."
***
“Whoa!” Peter shouted out with a laugh, jumping over the leg sweep. Steve was so fast--This was awesome!
Peter immediately rolled backwards and popped back onto his feet, firing both web-shooters at Steve’s wrists. If they hit their target, he immediately wrapped his hands around the biocable and yanked hard downward and diagonally.
Steve went down with a hard thump and a grunt, but he quickly spun to his back, rounding his shoulders so the blades slid smoothly rather than bump painfully. He flipped up to his feet, but he was slow, so instead of going in for a shot, he dove and rolled behind a block, pressing against it for cover and peeking around the edge.
Firing his web-shooter toward the ceiling, Peter grabbed hold of the biocable and gave it a sharp, hard pull, stretching it like the band of a slingshot. It launched him upward and he let go just in time to sail the rest of the way up and land soundlessly on the rafters. He moved quietly, out of Steve’s line of sight.
Steve swore, ducking his head up and looking around, trying to figure out where Pete was. Maybe allowing the webshooters hadn't been a good idea- they had sounded fun when Pete brought them up, but he was suddenly realizing just how outgunned he was.
Well, he liked a challenge.
He stood and went into a hard run, climbing up a structure without sacrificing much in speed and then jumping, snatching the rafter and pulling himself up. He grinned and waved as he spotted Pete before running after him, navigating the beams as fast as he could without risking his balance.
“Oh, crap,” Peter said to himself. He shifted minutely, eyes on Steve, and carefully, secretly, attached a line of biocable to the rafter he stood upon. Wait for it. Waaaait for it. At the last possible second, he dropped. The biocable snapped tight and he swung outward, upward, letting go and spinning to land on the rafter behind Steve, facing him. “Yoo-hoo!” He tapped Steve on the shoulder and then, the moment he turned around, swung a fist.
The blow sang through his bones in a way he remembered, but had become unfamiliar. He immediately lost his footing, curling to protect his limbs before he got with a loud, heavy crash.
He groaned before pushing back up, leaning heavily on his knuckles, acknowledging in his mind that his left side was going to be one long bruise later. He got to his feet faster than he had to his knees, and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. When he grinned, it was red. "Nice shot."
Peter had immediately looked horrified when Steve had fallen from the rafters. “Oh my God,” he apologized as he lowered himself to the floor. “I’m so sorry! I--” The sight of Steve’s grin, ear-to-ear and like that had been the best thing that had ever happened to him, stopped him short. He grinned too, nearly as big. “Nice fall.”
"Thanks." Damn, Pete was fun. "I've had a lot of practice."
And then he was diving in again, grappling for Pete's shirt, hoping that he'd have just a little luck and be able to get his hands on him this time. That 'spider' sense was incredible- he was a little jealous, if he were to be perfectly honest.
Peter’s spidey-sense buzzed and he took a quick step back…which turned into a quick stumble. His arms pinwheeled as he started to fall back, and then Steve suddenly had him by the front of his shirt. “Whoa, man, watch the threads. They don’t just make these generic white t-shirts anywhere,” he joked.
"I'll buy you a new one," he said as he dragged Pete in, pushing his weight forward and trying to get his hands on him as he swiped at his legs. He had to hold on- that would be the thing that gave him a chance, he was sure of it.
Peter’s feet went out from under him and he went down, landing on his back hard enough to drive the air right out of his lungs. That would leave a mark.
Steve jumped on top, getting his legs around his waist with locked ankles, then went for his arms, trying to get off his Web shooters. Without them, Pete would be a more manageable threat.
Oh, crap! Crap, crap, crap, that was smart!
Peter quickly got his feet flat on the floor and twisted his hands to try to catch Steve’s wrists. “Sorry, not on the first date,” he said, when and if he did get a hold of him, and then pushed off the floor, flipping them over backwards to get himself on top.
Steve was laughing as he slammed back, and he squirmed and struggled underneath, trying to push Pete off of him. Shit, he was strong, and he didn't budge. His hands tried to curl up, scratching at Pete's hands with his blunt nails, trying to get some sort of traction, even a wedge of space to work with. When that didn't work, he bucked up, trying to arch and knock Pete off him, or get his feet underneath him.
Peter’s yelp of surprise at Steve’s, he had to say, pretty spot-on impression of a bucking bronco, quickly became a laugh. “Whoa!” Hooking his feet behind Steve’s ankles, he pressed his knees in tight against his hips. It was not an easy struggle--Steve was strong, stronger than anyone he’d come up against before.
Hoping he’d be able to hold Steve in place just for a little longer, Peter tried to pin his hands to the floor and then stick them there with webbing.
Steve swore loudly through a laugh as he strained against the webbing, face going red with effort, despite the fact he couldn't move them. If he had more leverage, he might have been able to do it. He arched his back off the ground, trying to knock Pete off, but after a solid few minutes of struggle, he fell back on the ground, panting and laughing. "Damn it, Pete."
Still sitting on Steve, Peter raised his arms over his head, victorious. “And Parker takes home the gold!” he crowed. “It’s the win of the century! A match that will go down in the history books! The crowd goes wild!” He imitated the roar of a crowd, fists still in the air.
Tony's eyebrows had hit his hairline the minute the amateur bondage started up -- it was probably the kind of thing he should have been objecting to, but really. The two of them looked so ridiculous it was kind of hard to be offended.
Plus, it was kind of good to know. For reasons.
But mindful of his role (and the fact that Steve and Peter had probably forgotten they were there), Tony did allow himself to applaud politely.
Harry also applauded, actually grinning at the amateur bondage. Oh, Peter, why must you be so perfect all the time? "Shoulda made that bet after all," he joked.
"Alright, get off of me," Steve grunted, but the was grinning, especially when he heard the applause. He strained up to grin over to Tony, even as his face was bloody. "I knew he'd kick my ass. He's fast as hell, and I think he's as strong as I am." His eyes were back on Pete and he raised an eyebrow. "Want to get this stuff off me?" he asked, pulling against the webbing once to illustrate.
Peter grinned at the applause too, giving Harry and Tony a wave before tearing off the webbing with a sharp tug. Clambering off of Steve, he offered a hand out to help him back onto his feet, grinning at him, “Told you I’m tougher than I look.”
"There is something deeply wrong with both of you," Tony informed them dryly, eyeing the almost identical pleased looks they were wearing. "But as long as you don't think I'm up next, I guess we can all live with it."
Harry was looking like he wouldn't mind a go, actually. It was hard not to wonder how his strength would stack up against Steve's--or Peter's--but he wasn't quite ready to suggest it. He just smirked and nodded in agreement.
Steve grinned at Tony as he wiped the sweat from his forehead and blood from his nose and chin onto his shirt, then came at Tony like he was going to hug him, abandoning at just the last moment to just rest his elbow on his shoulder.. "Aw, c'mon, Tony, where's your sense of adventure?" he asked with a big, asshole grin, then glanced over his shoulder. "Hey Pete! Choose where we eat after showers, I'm starving."
Peter didn’t hesitate in throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Chinese!” he immediately answered. He was starving and Chinese meant good food and a lot of it.
Tony flicked a dark look in Steve's direction -- he didn't need reminding that he was short, okay, and Steve was just a giant -- and shrugged slightly enough not to dislodge him. "I could go for Chinese," he said, just a touch too easily to be completely innocent and smiled. "Winner buys?"
"Winner buys," Harry agreed, grinning at Peter as he put an arm around his waist. And if, as the winner's patron, he was called on to do his part, of course he would.
