AN: I wrote this for Round 4 of Avengerkink. There are many wonderful prompts over there, both filled and unfilled, and I highly recommend checking them out, especially if you've hopped on the Bruce/Tony bandwagon as I have. Just a disclaimer: this was written purely for fan purposes only - everything about The Avengers belongs to people way cooler than me.

One more thing: This fic contains recreational drug use and male/male sex. If that rubs you the wrong way, read something else.

...

It was finally sundown on one of the most ridiculous days of Tony's life. Slimy aliens had raised hell in Park Slope around nine am and been thoroughly schooled by The Avengers (mostly Thor, as it was his turn on the "chore wheel") by noontime. No big deal.

But then Clint had come down with this weird bubbling rash, caused supposedly by touching the slime during cleanup, and well...it was a disaster. Bruce and Tony had spent the rest of the day alternating between keeping Clint from going into anaphylactic shock and testing the slime for bio-hazardous qualities. They cured him, in the end, but not without an exhaustive amount of mental focus and more stress than they expected to endure when they set out for a "routine level 1 situation" that morning.

All Tony wanted to do was lounge on his sofa and watch last night's rerun of Top Gear, so he barely noticed when Bruce sat at the opposite end of the couch and mirrored his relaxed position. Knees open, head back, arms draped over the back of the couch, Tony spared a glance to appreciate how gorgeous Bruce looked when he wasn't tense or agitated. He had to fight the desire to reach over and stick his hand in the space created by the two open buttons at the top of Bruce's shirt. As delicious as that triangle of skin looked, such an unprecedented grope session would probably require both an explanation and physical movement, two things Tony just couldn't bring himself to think about right that minute. It could wait.

"I think I have the headache to end all headaches," Bruce mumbled. Tony hummed in response, turning to watch Bruce withdraw a small brown pouch from his front pocket. When he dumped its contents onto the seat next to him, Tony could see that the pouch contained a Bic lighter, a miniature pipe - black blown glass that looked a little worse for wear - and a small amount of weed in a crinkled sandwich baggie.

"You know, I was joking when I asked if your secret was a giant bag of weed," Tony said.

"Sorry, does it bother you?" Bruce replied, startled, "I can go out on the balcony like I normally do, if you like. I just couldn't bring myself to climb the stairs today."

"No no, knock yourself out. Don't let me harsh your vibe or rain on your drum circle or whatever." Bruce just shrugged and granted Tony a small smile. God, how could he be so sexy when he wasn't even trying?

"JARVIS, open windows 7A and 7B please," Tony ordered. No use setting off the fire alarm. A nice breeze might cool Tony off a little, too.

"Oh right, yeah," Bruce said, "You want some of this? I have plenty-"

"Not my thing, Big Guy, but thanks."

"I bet you just don't know how to work a pipe," said Bruce with a sly smirk. Was he flirting? Was that what that was? Maybe tony was just reading into it. Bruce was wrong, in any case, Tony had never used a pipe but he knew how one worked just by looking at it (stop hole, draw in smoke, unstop hole, breath in smoke...not that hard). He was an engineer, after all. Tony rolled his eyes and turned back to Top Gear.

They settled into a comfortable silence after that, broken only by the low tones of the television and the click of Bruce's lighter. Tony could have fallen asleep, even, if he hadn't looked over right as Bruce hollowed his cheeks in an inhale. Christ. Did Bruce seriously not realize how suggestive that looked? His lips were plump and wet as they wrapped around the pipe and Tony couldn't help but think of a number of other things Bruce could wrap his mouth around. One, in particular. And it was starting to make a scene in Tony's pants.

He was so intent on watching the pornographic stretch of Bruce's lips that he didn't see the man's eyes slide to peer at him from lowered lids.

"You sure you don't want a hit, Tony?" said Bruce, his voice low and muffled from the smoke leaving his lungs, "You're staring."

Tony snapped his attention back to the TV, thankfully schooling his face into a disinterested blankness before the scientist could figure out he wasn't staring at the weed so much as Bruce himself.

"Here," Bruce sighed, moving his brown pouch to the coffee table and shuffling across the couch, "if you're going to be a child about it, let's do this." He inhaled again, and before Tony could even get his bearings, Bruce was placing a knee in between his open thighs and holding himself over Tony with a strong arm on the back of the couch.

Bruce's face was only a few terrible inches from Tony's. He could see every hair of Bruce's stubble and smell his cologne, intermixed as it was with sweat and smoke. From this distance his lips looked even more delectable; Tony could feel himself getting hard just from their proximity. He could practically taste him.

"Just, inhale when I exhale," Bruce whispered, and waited for Tony to open his mouth in reply before letting smoke stream from his mouth into Tony's. Tony could only react, really tasting the weed now that it was seeping into his throat. It was mellow and warm, its time spent in Bruce's lungs stealing most of its kick. Tony closed his mouth and swallowed, watching triumphantly as Bruce's eyes followed the movement of his adam's apple with barely hidden interest. Tony let the small stream of smoke release through his nose, holding Bruce's gaze again as he wetted his own lips.

"Yeah?" croaked Bruce. Tony nodded, parting his lips to reply when Bruce's mouth crashed into his own. It was a dirty, wet kiss, and Tony wasted no time before he forced his way past Bruce's lips and trailed his tongue behind Bruce's teeth. One of them moaned, but with their mouths so sealed it was hard to say who. Bruce lowered his lap onto Tony's then, straddling a thigh and rubbing his erection into Tony's hip. They broke apart when Tony gasped. It was heaven.

Tony reached up and shoved both hands into Bruce's curls, tugging his head back and nipping at his throat. He could feel the vibrations in his lips when Bruce let out a low, broken groan. He thrust his hips up, seeking friction against Bruce's thigh and getting it when Bruce rolled his hips deliciously in response. Tony let his hands roam down from Bruce's hair as their lips met again, grabbing two handfuls of Bruce's ass and reveling in the subsequent hitch in breath and slide of tongues.

"Well if I knew you two were going to mack like teenagers I would have brought my camera," they heard behind them. They sprang apart instantly, red and panting, eyes finding each other.

"And smoking? Really guys, what would Mom and Dad think?" Clint continued unabashed, clearly enjoying the steady increase in awkwardness prompted by his presence in the living room.

Tony and Bruce continued to stare at each other. Tony was using every ounce of intellect he had to establish if Bruce wanted this, whatever it was, to continue.

"Your room?" Bruce asked. Thank God. Tony responded with a frantic nod and a not-so-subtle adjustment of his pants. Bruce stood and tidied his supplies before they scampered toward Tony's room, bearing Clint absolutely no mind.

As they left they heard a soft grumble,

"About fucking time."