Chapter Text
The bar was a dim, worn-out dive nestled on the edge of nowhere USA, where the road seemed to disappear into the endless horizon of desolate plains and dusty sunsets. The kind of place where the jukebox hadn't been updated in years, where the stools squeaked, and the bartender gave more side-eyes than smiles. It suited Tony just fine.
He sat at the bar, shoulders hunched under the weight of his own frustration, his fingers tracing the rim of his whiskey glass. His long grey hair hung loosely around his face, unkempt after days on the road, and the dim light cast shadows that made him look more tired than he’d ever admit. His wolf dog, Fenrir, lay by his feet, ears twitching every time someone came near. Fenrir’s presence was both a comfort and a deterrent—no one dared get too close to the man with the hulking beast at his side.
The hunt had been dragging on for weeks, chasing something that didn’t want to be found. Some kind of ancient, twisted creature that left only whispers in the wind and the occasional mauled body in its wake. Tony had seen plenty of horrors in his life, but this one was different. It was playing with him. And that pissed him off more than anything.
He downed the last of his whiskey and gestured to the bartender for another. The guy barely nodded, pouring him a double without a word. Tony leaned back in his stool, eyes flicking to the old neon sign buzzing weakly in the window.
Nowhere USA was supposed to be quiet. A stop for a rest, maybe a night’s sleep before moving on to bigger, bloodier things. But instead, this place had turned into another battleground.
He felt Fenrir’s tail thump against his boot, a soft reminder that he wasn’t alone in this. "What do you think, Fen?" Tony muttered, glancing down at the wolf dog. "Are we barking up the wrong tree, or is this bastard just playing with us?"
Fenrir raised his head, yellow eyes gleaming in the dim light, and gave a low grunt, almost like he was agreeing. Tony smirked. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
His phone buzzed on the counter, and he picked it up, scowling at the screen. It was a message from one of his contacts—someone deep in the supernatural underground who owed him more favors than they cared to admit.
*It’s moving. Got a location. Woods outside town. You ready?*
Tony let out a breath. “About damn time.” He pocketed the phone, drained his drink, and stood up. His body protested the movement—58 years old and still hunting monsters. He should have retired by now, but peace was a foreign concept to him.
Fenrir stood too, ears alert and ready for action. Tony gave him a pat on the head. "Let’s go, buddy. One more round."
As he stepped outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving only the twilight glow on the dusty road ahead. His old muscle car—black, beat up, but still roaring like a lion—sat parked out front. He whistled for Fenrir, and the wolf dog jumped into the passenger seat like they’d done this a thousand times before.
Tony slid in behind the wheel, turning the key and revving the engine. He glanced at Fenrir, who was already staring out the window, nose twitching. The hunt was on again, and this time, Tony wasn’t stopping until whatever was lurking in those woods was dead.
He grinned to himself, a dark, knowing smile. "Let’s show this thing why they don’t mess with old men, huh?"
With that, he slammed the pedal to the floor, and the muscle car roared down the empty road, dust swirling in its wake as they sped toward the hunt.
The engine growled as Tony sped down the empty highway, the fading light casting long shadows over the barren landscape. Fenrir’s nose pressed against the cracked window, the wind ruffling his thick fur as they barreled toward the edge of town. Tony glanced at him. "You smell something already, boy?"
Fenrir’s ears flicked, but he stayed focused on the horizon, as if he knew where they were going even before Tony did.
The message had been vague, just a location and a warning. But Tony didn’t need more than that. After decades of hunting, he knew the drill. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t new to him—it was the chase that had worn him thin. The monster had been killing for months now, and every lead had been a dead end. But tonight felt different. The air hummed with a tension he couldn’t ignore.
He turned off the highway, the road narrowing into a winding dirt path that led into a dense forest. The trees loomed tall, their branches intertwining like dark fingers reaching for the sky. Tony slowed the car as they entered the woods, the headlights cutting through the creeping darkness.
Something about the place felt wrong. It was too quiet. Even Fenrir seemed on edge, his body tense as he sat upright in the passenger seat. Tony’s hand hovered over the gun holstered on his hip. Years of experience told him to be ready for anything.
The car rumbled to a stop, and Tony killed the engine. The silence that followed was thick, oppressive. He grabbed his flashlight, his gun, and stepped out, the crunch of gravel under his boots sounding too loud in the stillness.
"Stay close, Fen," he muttered, and the wolf dog leaped out, landing silently beside him.
Tony scanned the area, his flashlight cutting through the dark. The woods were dense, thick with fog that swirled around the trees. It felt like a place forgotten by time, where no one ever ventured unless they had a death wish. But he was used to places like this.
“Alright, you ugly son of a bitch,” Tony murmured under his breath. “Time to show yourself.”
He moved forward, careful and deliberate, with Fenrir at his side. The deeper they went into the forest, the more the tension in the air thickened. It felt like they were being watched.
Suddenly, Fenrir let out a low growl, his fur bristling. Tony froze, flashlight beam sweeping through the trees. “What is it, boy?”
A twig snapped in the distance, followed by the unmistakable sound of something large moving through the underbrush. Tony’s grip tightened on his gun. He scanned the darkness, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. The fog made it hard to see, but he could feel the presence now. It was close. Too close.
Then, out of the shadows, a figure emerged—a tall, grotesque creature, its skin pale and stretched tight over its skeletal frame. Its eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the flashlight’s beam, and its mouth split into a jagged, toothy grin.
"Shit," Tony muttered. "You’re uglier than I expected."
The creature hissed, its voice like nails on glass. It moved fast, faster than anything that size should have been able to, lunging toward Tony with terrifying speed. He barely had time to react, firing off a shot that went wide as he dove to the side. Fenrir snarled and leapt at the creature, teeth bared, but the monster swatted him away with a strength that sent the wolf dog crashing into a tree.
“Fen!” Tony yelled, his heart skipping a beat, but there was no time to check on his partner. The creature was on him in seconds, claws swiping through the air as Tony scrambled to his feet, dodging another strike.
He aimed again, this time steadying his breath. One clean shot—that’s all he needed. The creature lunged again, and Tony fired, the bullet slamming into its chest. It shrieked, stumbling back, but it didn’t go down.
"Goddammit," Tony cursed. It wasn’t going to be that easy.
The creature charged again, but this time, Tony was ready. He reached into his coat and pulled out a silver blade, catching the creature mid-lunge. With a swift, precise movement, he drove the blade into its side, twisting as the monster let out a bone-chilling wail.
It thrashed violently, but Tony held his ground, pushing the blade deeper until, with one final cry, the creature collapsed to the ground, twitching before going still.
Tony staggered back, breathing hard, eyes locked on the unmoving form. He didn’t take his eyes off it until he was sure it wasn’t getting back up.
Only then did he turn to Fenrir, who was limping but alive, shaking off the blow he’d taken.
“You okay, boy?” Tony knelt beside him, checking him over. Fenrir gave a soft whine but nudged Tony’s hand as if to say, ‘I’m fine.’
Tony smiled, ruffling the wolf dog’s fur. “That’s my boy.”
He stood, wiping the sweat from his brow, and looked back at the creature’s body. Another one down, but this one had been too close for comfort. His body was getting slower, no matter how much he tried to deny it.
As he and Fenrir made their way back to the car, Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that this hunt wasn’t over. Something bigger was at play—he could feel it in his bones.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, he glanced at Fenrir, who had curled up beside him, licking his wounds. “Guess we’ll have to stick around a little longer,” Tony muttered, starting the engine. “There’s more out there, and they’re not gonna stop.”
With the sound of the engine roaring to life, Tony drove off into the night, knowing this was just the beginning of something darker.
Tony pulled into the parking lot of The Rusty Claw, a hunter’s bar tucked away deep in the backwoods. It wasn’t the kind of place you found on a map. No, you had to be in the know to find it. Hunters from all walks of life passed through here, sharing stories of things most people didn’t believe existed. It was his kind of place—quiet, off the grid, and just dangerous enough to make you feel at home.
The neon sign flickered weakly above the door as Tony stepped out of his car, Fenrir limping beside him but still alert. “Stay here,” Tony said, patting Fenrir’s head. “I’ll bring you something back.”
The wolf dog huffed and curled up by the car, watching Tony as he walked into the bar.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of sweat, leather, and cheap booze. The low hum of conversation buzzed around him, hunters swapping tales of their latest kills. Tony moved to the bar, his back aching and his mind still reeling from the night’s fight. He slid onto a stool, gesturing to the bartender. “Whiskey. Double.”
The bartender, a burly guy with a scar that ran from his jaw to his ear, nodded without a word and poured him a glass. Tony downed it in one go, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction from the exhaustion weighing him down.
“Rough night, huh?”
Tony stiffened. That voice—it had been years, but he knew it anywhere. Slowly, he turned to the source. Leaning casually against the bar, arms crossed and a smirk plastered on his face, was Steve.
Steve, the one-night stand he’d had in Colorado years ago. The guy who knew exactly how to push all the right buttons and left Tony breathless in a dingy motel room somewhere in the Rockies. He hadn’t seen Steve since then, and now, here he was, looking like sin in a worn leather jacket and boots that had seen their fair share of miles.
Tony groaned inwardly. He really wasn’t in the mood for this.
“Steve,” he muttered, turning back to his drink. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Steve slid onto the stool next to him, eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something else Tony knew all too well. “Passing through,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “I heard there’s been some trouble in these parts. Figured I’d lend a hand. But imagine my surprise when I see you walk in.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a long night,” Tony said, taking another sip of his whiskey. “Not really looking for company.”
Steve chuckled, leaning in just close enough that Tony could feel the warmth of his breath. “That’s funny, ‘cause the last time we ran into each other, you didn’t seem too interested in being alone.”
Tony clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the glass. He wasn’t about to let Steve rile him up—not tonight. “That was a long time ago.”
Steve grinned, his hand brushing against Tony’s shoulder, lingering just long enough to stir up old memories. “Doesn’t have to be. We could… you know, pick up where we left off.”
Tony closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. His body was sore, his mind was fried, and all he wanted to do was drink until the night faded away. But Steve—Steve had always been a temptation he struggled to resist.
“I’m not in the mood for this,” Tony said, his voice quieter now, but firm. He turned to face Steve, meeting his gaze. “Had a rough hunt, almost got killed, and I just want to drink. Alone.”
Steve’s smirk faltered, but only for a second. He leaned back, sizing Tony up, his eyes scanning the weariness etched into his face. “Look, I get it. You’ve had a shit night. But you know, sometimes the best way to forget about it is… well, you remember.”
Tony exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”
Steve shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying.”
Tony stared at his empty glass for a moment before signaling for another drink. As the bartender poured, Tony’s mind raced. He thought about that night in Colorado—the way Steve had made him forget about everything, if only for a few hours. And right now, the weight of everything was pressing down on him harder than it had in years.
Steve watched him with that same cocky grin, waiting, knowing that Tony was on the edge of giving in. The tension between them was palpable, the kind that came from years of knowing someone a little too well, even if it was just one night.
Tony sighed, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a slow sip. “You’re relentless, you know that?”
Steve laughed, the sound low and dangerous. “Comes with the territory.”
For a long moment, they just sat there, the noise of the bar fading into the background. Tony considered his options—go back to the motel, drink himself to sleep, or let Steve drag him into another reckless night.
“Fine,” Tony muttered, shaking his head. “But don’t think this is gonna be like last time.”
Steve’s grin widened. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Tony finished his drink and stood up, tossing a few bills on the bar. “Let’s get this over with.”
Steve followed, close behind, and as they stepped out into the cool night air, Tony couldn’t help but feel the familiar pull, the reckless part of him that Steve always seemed to ignite. Fenrir gave them both a side-eye, as if to say, *Really? This again?*
Tony shrugged at the wolf dog. “Don’t look at me like that, Fen. Sometimes a man’s just gotta deal with his demons the best way he knows how.”
And with that, they disappeared into the night, leaving behind the dim lights of the bar and walking toward another night of forgetting, if only for a while.
The night air was cool, a sharp contrast to the heat building between Tony and Steve as they moved through the darkness toward Tony's car. There was a tension, the kind that hummed between two people who had been here before-familiar but still dangerous, like walking through a minefield they were both all too eager to set off.
Tony unlocked the car with a flick of his wrist, the door creaking open as he glanced over at Steve, who was already unbuckling his jacket with that damn cocky grin plastered on his face. Steve wasted no time, his hands reaching for Tony's waist, pulling him in close.
It was fast, rough, and desperate- their bodies colliding with a force that had little to do with tenderness and everything to do with need. The car door slammed shut as Tony pushed Steve against the side, his hands roaming up Steve's chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Steve let out a low growl, pulling Tony even closer until their lips met in a messy, heated kiss.
Tony's head spun, a familiar fire igniting in his gut as Steve's hands wandered, tugging at Tony's belt, fingers brushing against his skin. Tony bit back a groan, breaking the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his back hitting the hood of the car with a thud.
"Just like old times, huh?" Steve muttered, voice rough as his fingers found the buckle of Tony's belt, yanking it free with a sharp pull.
Tony laughed, a dark, breathless sound, grabbing Steve by the front of his jacket and pulling him down. "Shut up and get over here."
It was a blur after that-clothes tugged aside just enough to make room for what they needed, hands roaming, mouths devouring. The car windows fogged up as Tony's back hit the seat, Steve pressing him down with a ferocity that made Tony's pulse race.
Steve didn't waste any time, his hands gripping Tony's thighs as he moved, their bodies moving together in a rhythm that was more instinct than anything else. It was raw, almost brutal, the way they collided, all harsh breaths and muffled groans in the cramped space of the car.
Tony's fingers curled into the seat beneath him, the leather creaking as Steve pushed him to the edge, every movement a reminder of how much they wanted this. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't gentle it was the kind of desperate release that only came after too many years of frustration, too many sleepless nights, too many memories that refused to fade.
Steve's breath was hot against Tony's neck, his body relentless as they both chased the same wild need, their bodies moving in sync, faster and harder until the car rocked with their efforts. Tony's breath hitched, his grip tightening on Steve's shoulders as the pleasure built to a dizzying crescendo, pushing him right to the edge.
It didn't take long for the inevitable to come crashing down on them both, their bodies shuddering together in a violent release. For a moment, everything went still-the world outside the car fading into nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing and the pounding of Tony's heart in his chest.
Steve leaned back, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Damn.
That was even better than last time."
Tony chuckled, breathless, wiping a hand across his sweat-drenched forehead. "Yeah, well... don't get used to it."
Steve grinned, leaning in for one more kiss, softer this time, as if the fire had burned out but left behind something warmer. "We'll see about that."
Tony sighed, his body still buzzing from the rush, but his mind already drifting back to the hunt, the creature he'd killed, and the nagging feeling that something bigger was coming.
For now, though, with Steve beside him and the night quiet around them, Tony allowed himself to forget, if only for a little while longer.
Steve zipped up his jacket, stepping out of the car with a satisfied smirk as the cool night air hit him. He stretched, glancing back at Tony, who was still leaning against the seat, catching his breath. The windows of the car were fogged up, evidence of the reckless abandon they'd just shared, but Tony didn't have time to bask in the
aftermath. His mind was already drifting back to the hunt, trying to piece together the next move.
But Steve wasn't done. He leaned against the car door, his eyes gleaming in that way that always spelled trouble.
"Since you let me cum in you, I figured I should give you something in return."
Tony looked up, rolling his eyes. "Aren't you the romantic?"
Steve shrugged, arms crossed. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood. I don't have to tell you anything."
Tony let out a low laugh, his head falling back against the seat, half-amused and half-annoyed. "Your cum is literally dripping down my leg, Steve. You better start talking before I regret this."
Steve's grin widened, but his expression shifted slightly, becoming more serious. "Alright, alright, I get it.
I've heard some things about the creature you're chasing. The one that's been giving you hell for weeks."
Tony's eyes narrowed. He sat up a little straighter, his focus sharpening. "What kind of things?"
Steve glanced around, making sure no one was nearby before leaning back in, voice lower now, conspiratorial. "It's not just a random monster. This thing-it's old, ancient. Some kind of spirit that can possess bodies, jump from one to the next. The reason you can't find it? It keeps switching hosts."
Tony's jaw tightened. That explained a lot. The erratic movements, the dead ends. It had been slipping through his fingers because he wasn't hunting a single entity-he was hunting a spirit that could jump bodies.
"How do I track it?" Tony asked, his voice a little more urgent now.
Steve sighed, crossing his arms. "That's the tricky part. You're not going to be able to kill it with bullets or blades. You need something stronger. There's a witch, not far from here, who has the kind of magic that can bind it, trap it in one body long enough for you to finish the job."
Tony let that information sink in, already planning his next move. Of course, it would come down to magic. It always did with these old creatures-things that were more myth than monster.
"And where do I find this witch?" Tony asked, his tone a little gruff, knowing Steve was enjoying the power he had over him.
Steve raised an eyebrow, smirking.
"Well, I can give you that info... but you might owe me something else in return."
Tony scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, good luck with that."
Steve pushed off the car, giving Tony one last lingering look. "She's in a cabin about five miles west of here. Off the grid, naturally. You won't find her on your own, but I'm sure Fenrir can help you sniff her out."
Tony let out a breath, nodding slowly.
"Thanks. I owe you one."
Steve grinned, stepping back, his hands casually sliding into his pockets. "Oh, I'll collect. Don't worry."
With that, he turned, walking off into the night without another word, his silhouette disappearing into the darkness.
Tony watched him go, muttering under his breath, "Still the same pain in the ass."
Fenir padded over, nose twitching as he sniffed the air around the car. Tony sighed, giving his wolf dog a pat on the head. "Looks like we've got a witch to find, boy."
He pushed open the car door, wincing slightly as he adjusted his clothes, feeling the uncomfortable reminder of his earlier activities. He wasn't about to let Steve off the hook for that one.
"Let's go," he grumbled, pulling himself into the driver's seat. "Before I start regretting that whole damn night."
Fenrir jumped into the passenger seat, and Tony started the engine, heading west, toward whatever fresh hell awaited him next.
Tony sat in the driver’s seat, staring out into the night as the engine hummed beneath him. His mind raced, replaying everything that had just happened. He ran a hand through his long grey hair, sighing as he shifted in his seat, the physical reminder of Steve still lingering.
“Why the hell did I let him in again?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head in frustration. “Literally.”
He rested his hands on the steering wheel, tapping his fingers in thought. Steve was cocky. Arrogant. An asshole in every way that mattered. But, damn it, there was something about him that Tony couldn’t shake.
He exhaled sharply, his mind painting an image of Steve—42, just gorgeous in that infuriating way that made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. Blue eyes that always seemed to be sizing you up, and that short blonde hair that somehow looked perfect no matter how many battles he’d been through. And his body—Tony couldn’t deny that. Steve looked like he’d been carved out of marble, his muscles rippling under that worn leather jacket.
Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes at himself. “Alright, fine. He’s hot. But that doesn’t change the fact he’s still a cocky son of a bitch.”
He glanced over at Fenrir, who was sitting beside him in the passenger seat, watching him with those knowing eyes. Tony could almost hear what the wolf dog was thinking.
“I know, I know,” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples. “I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin. But I needed… something, alright? After the night I’ve had, I just needed to do something to get my release.”
Fenrir huffed, his tail thumping lightly against the seat as if he were judging Tony’s life choices. Tony shook his head, leaning back in his seat and staring up at the ceiling of the car. The night was far from over, and with Steve’s information weighing on him, the hunt was about to get a whole lot more complicated.
But for a brief moment, all Tony could think about was how easily Steve had slipped back into his life—and how much it irritated him that it had been so damn good.
“Damn it,” Tony muttered, smirking to himself. “I hate that guy.”
Fenrir let out a soft whine, nudging Tony’s hand with his nose.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, giving him a scratch behind the ears. “Next time, you get to handle him.”
Tony's muscle car growled as it rolled up the dirt path, headlights cutting through the thick fog clinging to the trees. The location Steve had given him wasn’t far, and he was mentally preparing for whatever witch he was about to deal with. Fenrir sat quietly beside him, the wolf dog’s ears perked, always alert.
But as Tony pulled up to the clearing, he slammed on the brakes, his brow furrowing in disbelief. Standing there, leaning against a tree with that damn cocky grin plastered on his face, was Steve.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tony muttered under his breath.
Steve straightened up as Tony stepped out of the car, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Took you long enough."
“What the hell are you doing here?” Tony snapped, slamming the car door shut. “You’re not part of this hunt.”
Steve shrugged, completely unfazed. "Figured you might screw it up, so I thought I’d come along. Keep an eye on you."
Tony scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ve been hunting since you were still figuring out how to swing a sword, Steve. I don’t need your help.”
Steve pushed off the tree, his hands casually slipping into his pockets as he took a few steps closer. “Yeah, well, maybe you’re getting a little slow in your old age. Couldn’t hurt to have some backup, right?”
Tony glared at him, his jaw tightening. “I’m not slow. And I sure as hell don’t need you hanging around, messing up my rhythm.”
Steve raised an eyebrow, that infuriating grin still on his face. “Your *rhythm*? You mean the one that almost got you killed back in the woods?”
Tony clenched his fists, resisting the urge to punch that grin right off Steve’s face. “That was different. I didn’t know what I was dealing with then. Now I do.”
“Uh-huh,” Steve said, stepping closer, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sure, you do. Look, Tony, I’m just saying—if this thing’s as dangerous as you think, maybe you could use a little help. Especially from someone who doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.”
Tony let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel Fenrir’s eyes on him, almost as if the wolf dog was enjoying watching this back-and-forth. “I’ve been hunting things like this since before you even knew what a monster was, Steve. I’ve got this.”
Steve folded his arms, tilting his head slightly. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that.”
Tony shot him a look. “And you’re an arrogant ass.”
“Yeah, but I’m also right.”
Tony rolled his eyes, his frustration mounting. He hated how Steve had this way of getting under his skin, pushing all the right buttons. He wasn’t wrong about the hunt being dangerous, but Tony wasn’t about to let him swoop in and act like he was in charge.
“Fine,” Tony finally said, waving a hand in Steve’s direction. “If you want to tag along so bad, go ahead. But if you get in my way, you’re going to regret it.”
Steve’s grin widened, clearly enjoying Tony’s irritation. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Tony muttered something under his breath, turning back to the car to grab his gear. Fenrir padded over to him, looking between the two men like he was ready for the next round of the argument.
As Tony strapped on his weapons and checked his gear, he couldn’t help but glance over at Steve, who was casually checking his own blade, all relaxed and confident. It annoyed the hell out of him how cool and collected Steve was, especially when Tony was still simmering with frustration.
“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Tony said, tightening his belt. “Stay out of my way, and maybe we’ll both live through this.”
Steve chuckled, sliding his blade into its sheath. “You’re such a charmer, Tony.”
Tony shot him a dark look, his voice low and rough. “Just try to keep up.”
With that, he turned and started walking toward the woods, Fenrir at his side. Steve followed, that same damn grin still on his face.
This hunt was going to be a hell of a lot more complicated with Steve tagging along, but Tony wasn’t about to back down now. Not with the creature so close—and not with Steve acting like he had something to prove.
“I swear, Fen,” Tony muttered as they moved through the trees, “if I don’t punch him by the end of this, it’ll be a miracle.”
Fenrir let out a low growl in agreement.
As Tony moved through the
underbrush, trying to focus on the task at hand, he didn't realize how loud his muttering had gotten. Steve, always sharp, caught every word.
"You know," Steve said, his voice laced with amusement as he walked a few steps behind Tony, "instead of punching me, we could just fuck again. Might take the edge off."
Tony stopped in his tracks, his fists clenching as he shot a glare over his shoulder. "Keep dreaming."
Steve smirked, leaning casually against a tree, like he had all the time in the world. "Hey, I'm just saying. I'm already two for two. Third time's the charm, right?"
Tony felt a fresh wave of frustration bubbling up, his jaw tightening as he turned away, trying to focus on the damn hunt. "I'm gonna kill him," he muttered under his breath .
Fenrir huffed beside him, like he understood exactly what Tony meant.
Steve, as usual, wasn't letting it go.
"You know, l've been told I'm pretty charming when I want to be."
"Yeah, charming like a headache," Tony shot back, his voice low and dripping with irritation. He pushed forward, crunching through the brush, his eyes scanning the dark woods ahead. "Why don't you focus on the hunt instead of thinking with your dick?"
Steve chuckled, following close behind.
"Multitasking. It's a skill."
Tony let out a frustrated sigh. "You've got a death wish, don't you?"
Steve stepped in closer, his voice lowering just enough to make Tony's pulse quicken. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like getting under your skin."
Tony gritted his teeth, pushing past a branch, fighting the urge to turn around and tell Steve exactly where he could shove that cocky attitude. But that would give Steve exactly what he wanted-attention. And Tony wasn't about to play into his hands.
Instead, he muttered under his breath,
"If this doesn't end with me killing him, it'll be a miracle."
Fenrir gave a low grunt, keeping pace, as if saying, You said that already.
Tony pressed on, his body tense, but his mind already racing ahead to what lay deeper in the woods. There was a creature to hunt-and atter that, maybe a way to shut Steve up once and for all.
Or at least until next time
The deeper they went into the woods, the thicker the air seemed to get, heavy with an unsettling energy that made Tony’s skin prickle. He could feel it—the witch’s presence, her magic weaving through the trees like an invisible web. Fenrir’s ears twitched, sensing the change too, while Steve, despite his bravado, had finally gone quiet, his usual smirk replaced with a look of concentration.
They pushed through the last of the brush and found themselves in front of an old, decrepit cabin. The place was practically swallowed by the forest, vines creeping up the weathered wood, the faint glow of candlelight flickering through the cracks in the boarded-up windows.
Tony took a deep breath, already steeling himself for what was to come. Witches were unpredictable at the best of times, and this one had a reputation for being particularly difficult.
“Don’t say anything stupid,” Tony muttered to Steve as they approached the door.
Steve raised his hands, feigning innocence. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Promise.”
Tony rolled his eyes and knocked on the door, his knuckles rapping against the wood. A few seconds later, the door creaked open, revealing a tall woman with silver hair and piercing green eyes. She looked them both up and down, her expression unreadable, before settling her gaze on Tony.
“Hunters,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I figured I’d be seeing one of you eventually.”
Tony nodded, glancing briefly at Steve before returning his focus to the witch. “We’re here for your help. The thing we’ve been hunting—an ancient spirit. We need to trap it.”
The witch raised an eyebrow, her gaze shifting to Steve, who flashed her a charming smile. “Let me guess,” she said dryly, “this one’s the distraction?”
Steve’s grin widened, clearly amused. “I like her already.”
Tony sighed, cutting Steve a sharp look. “We’re not here to mess around. You know what we’re dealing with?”
The witch’s eyes flicked back to Tony, her expression softening slightly. “I know. And I know it’s already claimed several lives. You’re lucky it hasn’t claimed yours yet.”
Tony nodded, not bothering to explain how close he’d come to losing his. “We need to bind it, trap it in one body long enough to kill it. Can you help us with that?”
The witch studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing as if weighing his worth. Finally, she stepped back and gestured for them to come inside. “I can help,” she said, “but it won’t be easy.”
Tony followed her into the cabin, the air inside thick with the scent of herbs and candle smoke. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with jars of strange ingredients, old books, and trinkets that looked far too dangerous to touch. In the center of the room was a large wooden table, covered in an array of spell components and half-burned candles.
Steve stepped in behind Tony, casually taking in the room. “Nice place. Very… witchy.”
The witch shot him a look, her eyes narrowing. “Keep that mouth of yours shut unless you want to leave here with a curse.”
Steve raised his hands again, this time looking a little more cautious. “Noted.”
Tony smirked to himself but quickly turned his attention back to the witch. “What do we need to do?”
She moved to the table, picking up a small, blackened crystal that pulsed faintly with energy. “The spirit you’re hunting is old. It’s not just jumping from body to body—it’s anchoring itself to the land, feeding off the fear and death it spreads. You’ll need this,” she said, holding up the crystal, “to bind it to a single host. Once it’s trapped, you can kill it.”
Tony reached for the crystal, but the witch pulled it back slightly, her eyes narrowing again. “This won’t be as simple as tracking it down and stabbing it. The moment you try to use this, the spirit will know, and it’ll fight back with everything it has. You need to be prepared for that.”
“I’m ready,” Tony said, his voice firm. He’d been doing this long enough to know the risks.
The witch studied him for another long moment, then finally handed him the crystal. “Good luck,” she said quietly. “You’ll need it.”
As Tony took the crystal, he could feel its weight, not just physically but in the way the air around it seemed to hum with energy. This was the key to ending the hunt, but it wasn’t going to be easy.
Steve, of course, couldn’t resist chiming in. “So, we’ve got a magic rock, and now we just go throw it at the ghost? Sounds simple enough.”
Tony shot him a look. “It’s not that simple, Steve.”
The witch gave Steve a withering glance. “If it were that easy, you wouldn’t be here.”
Steve shrugged, clearly unfazed. “Well, I’m just here to make sure he doesn’t screw it up.”
Tony clenched his jaw. “I’ve got this, alright? I don’t need you getting in my way.”
Steve smirked, stepping in a little closer to Tony, his voice lowering just enough for only Tony to hear. “You need me more than you want to admit.”
Tony narrowed his eyes, his hand tightening around the crystal. “Keep dreaming.”
The witch rolled her eyes, turning back to her table as if she’d had enough of the bickering. “If you’re done with your little lover’s spat, the spirit won’t stay dormant for long. You’d better move quickly.”
Tony shot Steve one last look before heading toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Steve followed, still grinning as he stepped outside. “Third time’s the charm, huh?”
Tony muttered under his breath, “I’m really going to kill him.”
Fenrir padded along beside him, his ears twitching as if he was silently agreeing with Tony’s assessment.
As they walked back to the car, the weight of the crystal in Tony’s hand reminded him just how dangerous this next step was going to be. He only hoped Steve’s presence wouldn’t make things worse. But knowing Steve, that was probably too much to hope for.
Steve watched Tony settle into the driver’s seat, that damn smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth. He crossed his arms, leaning against the car casually, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “You know, Tony, you could try to relax a little. You’re always so tense. Might be why you’re so exhausted all the time.”
Tony, eyes half-closed and resting his head back against the seat, let out a long, tired sigh. He didn’t bother opening his eyes, didn’t even lift his head. “Steve, if you keep talking, I’m going to regret not punching you when I had the chance.”
Steve grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “You’ve got a lot of talk for someone who’s been through the wringer. Maybe you just need someone to help you… unwind.”
At that, Tony opened one eye, glancing at Steve with a look that was both exasperated and dangerous. He let the moment hang in the air for just a beat before speaking.
“Maybe you should put your mouth to better use.”
Steve’s smirk shifted into something more heated, his gaze lingering on Tony with that familiar glint. “Now *that’s* something I can work with.”
Without hesitation, Steve stepped closer, pulling open the passenger door. His grin was all too eager as he slipped into the car, shutting the door behind him. “You sure you’re not too tired for this?”
Tony leaned back, closing his eyes again, his voice dry as ever. “Just shut up and prove you’re good for something other than running your mouth.”
Steve didn’t need to be told twice. That smirk never left his face as he slid closer, the tension between them thickening in the confined space of the car. This time, the playful banter had burned away, replaced with the kind of heat that came from knowing exactly what buttons to push—and how to press them.
As Steve leaned in, Tony couldn’t help but smirk just a little to himself. Maybe a quick distraction wasn’t such a bad idea after all.