Captain America and Bucky Barnes Imagines

108. STEVE: The "Storm"

A/N: This was a request by sweet enswimmer! I hope I got everything in here that you wanted, and I hope you like it! The request involved a reader named Emily (sister to Tony Stark) a crossover with the Fantastic Four team, a flirty Johnny Storm, jealous husband Steve Rogers, among many other adorably fluffy things! 

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"What's up, losers?"

Two heads turn up at the sound of your voice echoing out into the wide, wide laboratory of the upstairs of the Avenger's Tower in downtown New York. Your brother, Tony Stark, shakes his head as you waltz in.

"If we're both losers that automatically makes you a loser by association."

Bruce Banner adds, "You do spend a lot of time with us, Emily."

You plop down a bag of McDonald's fast food on the table between paperwork piles that the two dweebs work on. You shouldn't call them names, because you love them firstly, but mainly because you're in the same league: you're a brainiac dweeb, too. Tony knows it's true; it's why he's got to remind you.

"Yeah, whatever. At least I'm not single," you boast with a smirk. Sliding into your favorite chair you pull out your tablet and get ready to jump back in on your work.

"Hey! That's not fair," Tony gripes. "You know I'm still sensitive talking about Pepper."

"Whatever, Antonio. It's been a year."

Tony scowls at Bruce who quietly chuckles at hearing you spit out his full name. "Can it, Green Bean."

With a laugh you take a short spin around your spinning chair before rolling over to sit between the two science nerds. "Anyway, where are we on the permits? Can we do the tests yet or not?"

Your brother scoffs. "Seriously, Em? Since when have you known me to wait for a permit to do something." He rolls his eyes and you chuckle in response.

"Mr. Stark," Friday announces into the room. "You have a call."

"A call? From who?" Tony hardly looks up from his tablet screen. You try to look over his shoulder and he gives you the whole thing—letting you take the lead.

"Mr. Richards, sir."

"Richards? Who the fuck is Richards?" Tony turns towards you to ask. You know everything he doesn't, which is a trait he oftentimes appreciates (and, sometimes, becomes annoyed by).

"Reed Richards," you reply without looking away from the charts on the tablet. When Tony's face is still one of confusion you promptly add, "He's the stretchy one. You called him Laffy-Taffy to his face and made him mad. One of the Fantastic Four fellows that you get annoyed by whenever they take up your "time" saving people on TV."

"Ah! Yeah! I remember that guy," your brother exclaims with pride as if he's come to the conclusion himself. Bruce snorts a tight-lipped laugh before getting distracted again.

"Should I put him on the line, sir?" Friday asks.

"Sure, sure. But put him on my personal—I don't wanna distract these two from any breakthroughs." He waves a hand in the air because he's unable to talk without moving some part of his body, it seems. He's been that way since you were just a newborn babe and he was thirteen.

Tony grabs his cell phone and begins pacing the floor. He lingers by the window for a short while, not even caring to look out at the beautiful scenery, and you munch on some over-salted fries and tap your greasy fingertips on the tablet screen. It's not until Tony's done with the call and walking back over to the lab bench that you realize he's frowning.