SLASH! SO MUCH SLASH! *ahem* Okay, now that that's taken care of, there is slash in this story. Male-on-male, slashy, feely goodness. If that bothers you please turn back now! I wrote this for a friend on LJ so this is her early birthday present in the form of fan fiction lol. Also, I'm bollocks at writing sex scene so its nothing too graphic in here. Hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing =/

Neither of them is really sure how it happens the first time. There's no lead up, no anticipation, no warning, it just happens. Quick and unexpected like an earthquake and leaving them both just as shaken. There's no way to prepare for it either and it leaves them both breathless and wide-eyed, watching the other for any signs of anger or confusion. It never comes, from either of them, and the next minute they're all over each other, heedless to anyone else around them.

The first time it happens is right after a mission. Typical, everyday alien invasion, really nothing new after all this time. Everyone takes their fair share of hits, each a little bit harder and a little bit more damaging with each blow. It hardly matters though, they're all together and as a team they can take on anything. Until they can't. Its some kind of weapon, none of them are really sure what it is, but it delivers a sonic pulse that rocks the ground and catapults them all in different directions. The blast leaves them all deaf and disoriented for several seconds and that's all the time the aliens need to take full advantage of their situation.

They're ruthless, unrelenting and dangerous, and their weapons are just as deadly. Each gun fires a blast that's comparable to being hit pointblank by a shotgun, each blade is sharp enough to slice through solid steel. They know their human targets too and aim for the chest and torso and all the vital organs in between. The aliens aren't indestructible, there are chinks in their armor, but they take a while to find and by that time the damage is already done.

It's a tough battle, long and bloody and harder than they originally thought. By the end they're all covered in blood and bruises and dirt and it's honestly a bit of a miracle they're alive at all. Once the city is secured and the threat is dealt with, they're all whisked away to the helicarrier to receive treatment. Some require more than others, those not protected by serum and armor and godly powers. The rest are checked out and released after their minor wounds and injuries have been tended to, free to roam the helicarrier and keep themselves busy until further notice. That's how they find each other, each wandering aimlessly down the halls with no direction and no purpose, utterly lost in the confines of the hallways now that the enemy has been defeated.

Thor frowns as Steve approaches, taking in the disheveled appearance and bruised features. His hair is unkempt, dusty and falling across his forehead, and there's an outline of a bruise on the side of his jaw that looks suspiciously like a fist mark. A dark stain covers one side of his suit and there's a jagged gash ripping through the material to show a white bandage underneath. Steve's walking close to the wall, the fingers of one hand traveling along the flat surface carefully as if he'd ready to use the wall for support at any moment. The smaller man stops when he sees him, appearing somewhat surprised to have encountered anyone in this particular stretch of hallway.

"You're wounded," Thor says simply, indicating the damage done to the suit with a slight nod.

Steve looks down as if he'd forgotten the injury and shrugs one shoulder indifferently. "Its not so bad, more of a scratch than anything. They didn't even stitch it, just covered it with a bandage and told me to let nature take care of the rest." The soldier looks him up and down critically for a second. "I could say the same for you."

Thor glances down at his own injuries, scrapes and scratches and cuts that cover his sleeveless arms that have long since stopped bleeding. The wounds will heal in a matter of hours leaving his skin as flawless as it had been before the battle, but for now the wounds are sore, open, and raw. His body aches from the stress of the battle, the depletion of adrenaline now that the fight is over, and he feels the familiar sag of tranquility weigh heavily on him.

Steve seems to feel it too because for a time neither of them moves, they just observe each other in the hallway like this is somehow a silent battle of wills. Neither makes a turn in the opposite direction nor do they attempt to cross past one another in an effort to continue on their way down the hall. It's like an unspoken test to see which one will back down first. Finally, Thor breaks into an easy laugh because it's obvious neither of them is willing to move until the other does and settles on a compromise. "Come Captain, let us retire to a different chamber so that we may clean ourselves of the dust of the battlefield. And it appears that we both need to recuperate from our injuries."

The last part is only half true; Thor had pretty much recuperated from his injuries about ten minutes after the battle was over but he knows Steve hasn't. Super soldier serum aside, Steve looks just as dirty and injured as the rest of them and there's a growing red stain on that white bandage beneath his suit. Thor doesn't trust earth doctors, never has and never will (with the exception of Dr. Banner), and the compromise gives him a chance to examine Steve's wound himself.

If the soldier has any doubts about the suggestion, he doesn't let it show and instead smiles and follows Thor down the hall into one of the many open, empty rooms that line the halls of the helicarrier. Their rooms are higher up on the top floors and neither really has the energy to waste getting lost looking for an elevator or a staircase so they make their way to the first open door they can find. The door swings open with a touch, the locks unfastened and unconfined from disuse. The room is small, much like the other rooms on the helicarrier, but it's empty and quiet and will provide some form of solitude for the time being.

Steve walks in and immediately slumps down on the bed, energy gone and body exhausted. For a moment he's alone and he can feel the full extent of his injuries. The gash in his side aches and throbs painfully, burning with each breath he takes but he knows the pain will dissipate in a few hours once his body begins to heal. He's bruised and sore all over, his muscles heavy and leaden from over exertion and fatigue. Right now all he wants to do is curl up somewhere and not move for several hours but he knows that probably won't happen; eventually they'll all be called down to the meeting room and have to explain what happened to Fury. Hopefully they could get a few hours of reprieve though…

Thor comes inside after a few minutes, a bundle of clothing under one arm. He deposits them on top of a dresser close to the door and immediately walks into the bathroom, eying the shower critically. It's smaller than the ones on the upper levels but then again none of the Avengers have rooms down here, these all belong to the much smaller, very human members of S.H.I.E.L.D. A shower is a shower though, complaints can't be made in this instance.

Steve has managed to strip down to the waist by the time Thor turns back into the room and the demi god's eyes immediately fall on the bloodstained bandage across his side and the myriad of bruises that form a patchwork across his chest and torso. His jaw sets a bit, eyes still locked on the darkened bruises as he speaks. "You injuries are more severe than you originally stated, Captain."

Steve looks down at himself self-consciously, taking in the discoloration on his chest with a slight frown. "Huh, didn't look that bad earlier." He shrugs dismissively, which hurts, and works at taking off his boots without wincing. "It's really not a big deal," he says through clenched teeth as his injuries are jostled a bit. "They'll be gone in a day or two."

"But they are troubling you now," Thor states simply, walking into the bathroom and retrieving a washcloth from the cabinet beneath the sink. Regardless of being empty, all the rooms are fully stocked with linens and towels on the chance that they are suddenly occupied without a moment's notice. Like now. Thor wets the washcloth beneath the faucet and returns to the room, handing it to Steve. "For your wound," he says, nodding down to the bloody bandage on Steve's side.

The smaller man nods and takes the cloth, carefully stripping off the bandage and setting it aside. The gash on his side is jagged and uneven, a close miss to being stabbed with a spear, and even though its not too deep, its bleeding freely and leaving tiny, crimson rivulets down his side. He presses the cold cloth against his side, nearly sighing at the relief the coldness brings. He keeps it pressed firmly to his side, glancing up to see Thor carefully removing his own armor and setting it on the dresser near the door. The cuts on his arms seem to be hindering his movements a bit because he's moving slowly, methodically, with each piece that comes off. Steve watches him for a few minutes, mesmerized by the careful process until it gets to the point where Thor can't quite reach one piece of the armor without some kind of help.

Steve stands, biting back the wince, and walks across the room, closing the distance between the two of them and coming to stand at Thor's side. He waits for permission, some kind of gesture or expression that tells him its okay to help; he knows full well that Thor's armor and Mjolnir are about as sacred to him as his own shield and suit. Thor nods his ascent and Steve helps him carefully remove the remainder of his armor, setting it all aside with the same practiced care and respect he did with his own shield.

They're close now, inches apart in the small enclosure of the room, and their proximity can't be ignored. For a moment neither moves, they just breathe and watch each other to gauge the next move. Steve is easily a full head shorter, his body smaller and a bit slighter than Thor's, but he holds the demi god's gaze with an intensity than can hardly be rivaled. The room seems incredibly small now, too small to hold both of them at the same time, and there's a distinct smell of electricity in the air. They're face to face, chest to chest, and the energy is nearly stifling.

Looking back neither is sure who makes the first move, all they know is that the small distance between them suddenly closes and they're clinging to each other like an anchor in tumultuous seas. Rough, calloused hands are touching everywhere and everything all at once: arms, chest, face, neck, any contact with flesh seems to be magnetic and hypnotizing. The pressure hurts, heavy hands and clawing fingers digging into torn, bruised flesh but they don't care. The pain means they're alive, they survived the battle and they're here in this room together.

Steve feels himself lifted, swept of the ground like some helpless damsel in an Arthurian legend, and he's not even ashamed when he wraps both arms and legs around Thor's body, clinging to him to get better leverage. He'd been used to being picked up like this back before the serum when he was still tiny and weighed about a buck-thirty soaking wet. Bucky could lift him up like this, toss him over one shoulder and haul him around like a sack of flour and Steve had loved him for it. It had been a long time since he felt anything like that and he clung to Thor now for all he was worth to relive that feeling again.

The walls in the lower floors of the helicarrier are thin and flimsy, not nearly as sturdy as they need to be when two of Earth's Mightiest Heroes are having at each other with reckless abandon. The wall creaks and groans ominously as Thor's back bounces off the smooth plaster, bits of concrete and dust raining down from the cracked ceiling. Steve is warm and solid in his arms, kissing him furiously and biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his fingers dig deeply into the super soldier's shoulders to make some kind of purchase. Steve winces against his mouth, the pained groan making its way out of his throat becoming muffled as Thor seals his mouth over his again and smothers out the noise. New bruises are formed on top of older ones that are healing and neither seems to care.

They somehow manage to stagger into the bathroom, each stripping off layers of dirty, bloodstained clothes and fighting for conquest over the other's mouth as they go. The kisses are desperate and hard and a little frantic as if they could stop at any moment. Like the battle of wills in the hallway, neither appears to be backing down from the challenge anytime soon.

The shower turns on, hitting them both with a stinging spray of hot water that is only temporarily distracting. They stop for one split second, both breathless and flushed and gasping, staring at each other in a silent question as to whether of not to continue. Thor answers by pinning Steve against the wall of the shower and biting down on the junction between his neck and collarbone, drawing a pleasure and pain filled gasp from the younger man. His hands are clawing at the taller man's back, short fingernails leaving long, reddening streaks down the smooth flesh and rippling muscles of his shoulders. He wraps his legs around Thor's waist, his back still pressed into the wall firmly and space between his shoulder blades flattening with each passing second. He's pinned to the wall like a moth in a glass case and he loves it.

The water washes over them, mixing blood and sweat and dirt all together in the floor of the tub and sending it cascading down the drain. Steve kisses Thor again, harder and more desperate than before, gasping against his mouth as the steam fills his lungs. One of Thor's hands brushes downward, his touch heavy and unyielding, and his fingers accidentally dig into the gash in Steve's side. The smaller man gasps and unconsciously bucks against him, fresh blood oozing from the wound and swirling in the water in little pink tendrils. Thor stops instantly, eyes widening in concern, and he looks at Steve anxiously. "Are you-"

Steve cuts him off with another bruising kiss because as much as the wound hurts, its nothing compared to sharp, burning desire he feels pooling in the pit of his stomach. His cock is hard and aching against his belly and he can feel Thor's own member just as hard and pressing into him from below. He can't think clearly right now, the cacophony of voices in his head screaming sex, sex, sex! is impossible to ignore. He reaches down with one hand, wrenching the handles above the faucet so tightly they nearly pop off the wall and all at once the water turns off. They're both standing there, dripping wet and breathing hard and the only thing Steve can manage to say is, "Bed. Now."

Thor obliges by sweeping them both out of the shower and staggering into the room, both still completely undressed and soaked to the bone. They fall on the bed, dripping wet and tangled up in each other, and neither seems to notice when the bed frame breaks and they both land on the ground with a resounding thud.

Thor's mouth is covering his again, kissing, biting, nipping and covering as much skin as possible. Steve writhes below him, trying unsuccessfully to gain some kind of purchase because dammit, he is not the woman in this situation! If they're going to do this he refuses to be the one dominated, that's just a little too much for his pride to handle.

Thor has other ideas though and sees Steve as a conquest that needs to be conquered. He's stronger, larger, and all together more determined than Steve is to take control of this situation. The younger man wiggles and writhes his way beneath him, causing every amount of distracting friction he can, but it's not enough. Thor pins him with another kiss, licking a long stripe up the side of Steve's throat and tasting the salt and heat of his skin on his tongue. The younger man stills slightly, completely at his mercy, and Thor growls in a kind of ascent.

Steve, for his part, thinks its damn near the sexiest thing he's ever heard in his entire life. He tries one more time to free himself but it's entirely useless and Thor is doing such amazingly wonderful things with his tongue that all he can do is lay there and think about every lick and swipe as it passes. His eyes catch the broken side of the bed frame below them and he has just enough time to think how pissed Fury is going to be when he finds out he going to have more than likely replace everything in this room but then Thor is on top of him again and Steve stops thinking and gives in to him completely.

Hope you guys like it! :D