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"I'll just take two for the road, dad."
"Peter? Hang on, you need to… Peter!"
Tony watched in amusement as the barista literally threw his hands up in despair while the young man jumped on his board and rolled down the street at a break-neck speed, helmet firmly under one arm. Tony could just see the second of the pilfered cookies vanishing into the bottomless pit most teenagers called their stomachs before the teen was lost to his sight.
"That kid is gonna be the death of me. What can I get you?"
"A coffee, please, black. And two of those cookies. I hear they are pretty good." Tony smirked at the man. He was kind of cute. Pretty short, short-haired too, and wearing a hipster beard and honest-to-god suspenders and glasses. Tony tried not to stare. He'd never seen someone pull hipster off in such a casual way.
The barista gave him a mock-affronted glare, but set to brewing his coffee regardless. "To go?" he asked, waving a reusable and a regular cup at Tony in question. Because of course the hipster would not serve his coffee in a paper or, heavens forbid, a styrofoam cup.
Tony loved it.
"I think I'll take a short break," he decided and pointed at the ceramic cup.
The barista beamed at him and set the coffee to drip while he expertly fished two cookies out of the jar without any losses and put them on a plate with a flourish. "There you go, sir."
Tony carried his plate over to the closest table. The shop wasn't busy, but he didn't want to risk any newcomers sitting down between him and the interesting barista. As the man didn't seem to have any urgent business after handing Tony his coffee, Tony felt free to make a bit of small-talk.
"This your shop?"
"Heh, no. It belongs to my friend Peggy. I just work here for some additional income. Pays the bills, since…" He waved his hands indicating the shop as though that completed his sentence.
Probably meant the kid, Tony figured. "Your son's quite the handful, huh?"
In Tony's experience, asking a parent about their son never failed. The barista seemed determined to surprise Tony at every turn, though. "I love him to death, but yeah. Teenagers, you know." No name, no gushing about the kid's achievements, no diatribes about his horrible friends. What was this man?
…Oh. Tony was getting the suspicious side-eye. That explained it.
It should be humiliating to be considered a predator-suspect for asking after the kid, but for some reason Tony just found himself smiling at the protective dad in front of him.
Who was side-eyeing him even harder now. Oops.
"I wouldn't know," Tony replied belatedly. "Never had any kids."
The barista didn't reply.
A-W-K-W-A-R-D.
Tony supposed this was it, he wasn't going to get a shoe in with this guy. Admitting defeat, he leaned back and began to properly look at his surroundings for the first time. There was some interesting artwork on the walls. Now that he was looking, he found himself unable to look away.
He tilted his head; frowned.
How…?
The rest of his coffee vanished in a hurry, as did the cookies. As good as advertised by the teen, he noticed in passing. The larger part of his attention was on the large, framed picture on the wall opposite him, though. Tony got up.
Amazing.
The picture showed a surreal scene of a red-and-gold robot fighting a flying leviathan among the ruins of New York city. The detail in the painting was stunning, the raw emotion it transported; and the skill showing in every line was mind-blowing.
Pepper did all of Tony's art shopping. She despaired of how blasé he was about the priceless treasures she brought home. It wasn't for lack of education, though. Tony knew quality when he saw it.
How did a small coffee shop in Brooklyn afford this kind of top-notch art?
Turning around, Tony quietly stepped around a mother breast-feeding her child to gaze at the next piece of art. This one depicted a witch with red hair and red clothing hovering several feet above the ground. Energy crackled out of the young woman's fingers. Sparks danced around the little coronet on her head. But the captivating thing about her was the hint of tears in her eyes – and the naked fury in the set of her mouth. Once again, the subject was fantastic, but the emotion was raw and powerful.
Tony checked the corner of the painting. 'SR', signed with a flourish, just like the other one. There was also a QR code next to it. Tony scanned it and sent the link to Pepper, sight unseen.
Get in on this one, Pep. I feel this artist is going places.
Returning to his table, Tony sat back on his chair, albeit wrong way around, to consider the painting that had hung right behind his head, unnoticed.
This one was different. Where the other two pictures brimmed with battle rage, despair and determination, this one was calm. Soothing. It felt like coming in from a storm.
Warm, soft light illuminated a small bed with an even smaller shape inside it. Only one eye was visible beneath a tuft of black hair, and that one eye was closed. Tony had seen babies sleeping before. In fact, there was one not ten feet from him right now; the lady by the window had closed her blouse again and the little one was napping as its body worked hard to digest the warm milk.
But he had never looked at one the way this painter looked at that baby.
"Hey, are you alright?" The barista's voice startled Tony out of something like a fugue.
"Yeah. Yeah, peachy. Just… a little stunned."
"By my good looks, I'm sure," the barista dead-panned.
Tony briefly forgot about the art at the sarcastic look on the man's face. "Absolutely!" He wasn't even lying. The man did look good enough to eat. Probably married, though; kid and all. But then again, the barista had said it first. Surely, it was only fair to reply in kind? "Once I have recovered my wits about me, I'll make sure to ask you out to dinner."
The barista laughed. "I'd take you up on that. Making ends meet would sure go a lot easier with a rich sugar daddy."
Tony felt a smile grow on his own face. "How about seven tonight, then?"
The other man's smile dropped. "You're serious."
"Rarely. But I do want to take you out to dinner. Unless you are already taken, of course."
Ooooh, a blush!
"I am… free. For dinner. And for, uh. Yeah. I'm free. Just pick me up here? We close at six, I should be out by six thirty."
"It's a date, then!" Tony walked toward the door with a spring in his step, but then turned around at the last minute. "Oh, and hand me two of those cookies, please? For the road."
Tony didn't know how to dress for this one. He didn't own any hipster chic, nor did he want to, really. A tux was out, obviously. But his date had already seen him casually wearing Armani, would it be rude to dress down?
As he was waffling about his choices, Tony absent-mindedly answered his phone.
"Tony, oh my god! He's so good! How did you find him?"
"Pepper! Great timing! Suit or jeans and t-shirt?"
"What are you…?"
"I have a date with a hot hipster barista! He's seen me in a suit, but I'm not sure he owns one himself. Is it gauche to show up in less than a suit?"
"You have a date? Tony, that's great. I'm so happy for you! You haven't been on a date since..."
"No need to bring up Sunset, Pep. I'm in a great mood, so let's not ruin it."
"So am I, now that you mention it. Listen Tony, I am serious: Where did you find this artist? His approach to surrealism is amazing. Fresh and colourful and oh, I don't even have words. Are you fine with me buying as much of his art as I can get my hands on for your collection?"
"Get one for yourself, too, Pep. You deserve nice things. But please focus on the real question here: Suit or jeans?"
"Easy. Wear what you feel the most comfortable in."
Tony eyed his Black Sabbath t-shirt. "You think?"
"I know. You have to be yourself if you want this to work. Tony, I want that for you. I want you to be happy."
Tony felt his throat close up a little. "Thanks, Pep." He firmly pulled out the t-shirt and his tightest pair of jeans.
Tony knocked on the closed door to Captain's Orders. The barista's head popped up from behind the counter with a large smile. Tony waved. The man waved back.
Less than two minutes later, the barista was out the door and they were looking at each other a little awkwardly. Should they shake hands? Hug? It took them both exactly the same amount of time to decide that talking was the way to go.
"So, where should we –"
"My name is –"
They laughed.
"Tony," Tony finished his date's sentence.
"Steve," the barista said. "And how about the Star Trek-themed restaurant down the block? Peter says they have the most amazing snail steak and gagh."
Tony looked at him, mouth open. "Your idea of a romantic date is eating Klingon cuisine?"
Steve went bright red. "I'm sorry. We're nerds at our home. Also, snail steak is Ferengi, really… Ugh. I shouldn't have –"
"Where did you come from, you beautiful, perfect man?"
Steve shut up. Bit his lip. "You're serious?"
"I do not joke about Star Trek."
Steve laughed with delight. "I think I like you, Tony. Oh, and I got you something." He unveiled a small box with a couple of cookies. "We can snack on those in case the gagh is up to Klingon standards."
This date was off to a great start.
Three hours later, Steve the gorgeous barista said his good-byes in order to put his fourteen-year-old son to bed. It was Tony's great luck that the kid had stayed with a friend for dinner, freeing Steve up for Tony. Tony was hoping that Peter was going to have a sleepover at his friend's place sometime very soon.
Happily picking up the cheque while Steve hit the bathroom, Tony got himself ready to leave. He'd learned a lot about Peter tonight, and about Peggy's café, and about all of Steve's friends, but not very much about Steve himself. Other than the fact that he was a nerd, talkative and very attractive, of course. In return, Tony had talked about science, about his own friends, and about engineering ridiculous robots and not-so-ridiculous prosthetics, but failed to mention his last name. He loved the easy conversation and didn't want to spoil it with his famous name.
Tony was standing on the sidewalk waiting to say his good-byes to Steve before he called Happy to come pick him up, when Steve exited the restaurant with a dazed look.
"Steve? Everything alright?"
"Huh?"
"I said, are you alright?"
"I'm… yeah. Fine. Better than fine." Steve laughed, his deep voice rising with disbelief. "I just can't believe what Peggy just texted me. For the first time in my life, I might get to stop worrying about money for a while."
Tony smiled. "That's great news. Are you getting a raise?"
Laughing again, Steve shook his head. "Hardly. I was actually wondering how to let you down gently –"
Tony's heart seized painfully and his breath caught.
"– even though I didn't want to. Because wow, are you ever out of my league. My pride won't allow me to actually be a kept man. But now I don't have to!"
Steve beamed at him and Tony carefully resumed breathing. "Don't have to be a kept man?"
"Don't have to tell you no! I can have money of my own and not think about this being unfair to you because you'd always have to pay. I'm finally… Oh, right. I didn't even tell you what I do for a living, did I?"
"...Being a barista at Captain's Orders?" Tony asked, already sure that wasn't it. His heartbeat was taking its sweet time returning to baseline after the near-miss he hadn't even known about.
"I paint," Steve said. "I saw you looking at the pictures in Peg's shop earlier. Those are…" He grinned.
"Yours?!"
"Mine."
Tony felt his mouth drop open. He quickly closed it again. "Steve! Those are amazing!!! I want to crawl into your mind and see where you get those ideas from. Side-note, I want to crawl into you full stop, but –"
Steve chuckled, eyes shining bright.
"– but really, your imagination coupled with your firm mastery of the art is… Oh, oops."
"Oops?" Steve was still beaming happily, cocking his head in a cute question.
"Uh. Why did you say your financial troubles are over? Because of your art? Because it's… selling?"
"Yes! Peggy just told me that Pepper Potts has requested access to all of my works, and put down a ridiculously high advance payment. This is a dream come true! ...Why are you looking at me like that?"
Tony gulped. "There is no good way to say this, I think. But please believe me that I honestly had no idea that you are the artist when I forwarded your link to Pepper. This is not favouritism and Pepper wouldn't buy bad art even if I literally begged her to do it. Pepper is buying your art and paying you more than you expect which is probably still only a fraction of what these paintings are going to be worth in five years because they are that good. Not because I asked her to. Okay?"
"You are friends with Pepper Potts." Tony let Steve mull that over for a moment. "Tony… Stark?"
"Um. Hi?"
Not for the first time tonight, and certainly not for the last, Steve did something completely unexpected. He laughed and hugged Tony. "You're a tech genius. Peter is going to love you!"
Tony leaned into the hug and wrapped his own arms around Steve.
When they finally broke apart and he saw a smile on Steve's face, Tony bit the bullet. "You said you didn't want me to always pay for you. And now Pepper is using my money to buy your art. Are you okay with that?"
"Am I okay with being on the way to fame because Tony Stark thought my art was good when he didn't even know me?" Steve affectionately bumped Tony on the head. "Yeah, you bet I am."
Tony hugged him again. "You're an amazing human being, Steve Rogers."
"Keep telling me this and maybe I'll keep feeding you Peggy's cookies. You're as bad about them as Peter is."
"I will. I am. ... You most amazing artist in all the world, you funny and much too knowledgeable nerd, you terrific dad and all-around wonderful human being… do you still have those cookies you brought with you to dinner?"
Steve laughed at him. And also fed him the cookies.