Chapter Text
Steve nodded his head back and forth to the beat of the tinny music that piped through the coffee shop speakers. He'd tied his apron too tight and it was digging into his side, but he was too tired to straighten up from where he leaned both elbows on the edge of the counter to fix it.
"Is that an octopus?" Darcy asked from behind him.
"It's a squid," Steve corrected, pulling the sharpie away from the cup he was doodling on and holding it up so she could see the shape of it.
"Oh my god, is that Tony Stark?"
"No, I told you, it's a squid," Steve said with a laugh, then he looked up and saw a man with sunglasses and a goatee, in the most expensive suit Steve had ever seen in his life, pushing through the front door of the shop. "Oh my god, it is."
"Give him the octopus cup!" Darcy hissed, shoving Steve towards the cash register and making him stumble over his own feet. He caught himself on the edge of the counter and smiled up at Tony Stark, who had found the cash register while they were wrestling and was peering at the giant menu boards.
"Look, I'm going to be entirely honest with you," Tony said, pulling off his sunglasses and dropping his eyes from the menus to Steve's face. His eyebrow quirked up the tiniest bit then his gaze flicked down and up again. Steve told himself firmly that there was no chance that Tony Stark had just checked him out. He met Steve's gaze again and leaned in conspiratorially. "I left the house in a bit of a tornado this morning and I forgot my contacts. I can usually fake it pretty well, but whoever wrote that menu -" he pointed with the arm of his sunglasses "- has very pretty and completely illegible handwriting, and I'm kind of fucked here."
"Um." Steve swallowed down the knot in his throat. "That would be Darcy. Don't worry I'll fire her immediately."
"I'd like to see you try!" Darcy's voice came out from the back kitchen.
"Doesn't seem like that's going to stick," Tony said with a smirk. "You can make it up to me by telling me what's good?"
"Okay." There was really no point in hyperventilating just because Tony Stark had wandered into his coffee shop. They were in New York - granted not the fashionable parts usually populated by rich, famous, super-geniuses, but still. "Bitter or sweet?"
Tony grinned like a shark and now he was definitely checking Steve out. "I'm flexible."
"Oh." It came out far too close to a squeak for Steve's comfort and he cleared his throat aggressively. "The dark chocolate mocha is good. Kind of halfway between bitter and sweet."
"Perfect. Give me a large. And something dangerously buttery from that pastry case."
"You got it." Steve set the squid cup down by the espresso machine and rang up a large mocha and a croissant. Tony paid with cash then shoved a large wad of bills in the tip cup. Steve mixed the chocolate syrup and then pulled a shot over it, steaming the milk while the coffee burbled out. Tony didn't speak, scrolling through his phone, occasionally making grumpy, little noises.
With a sigh, Tony stopped scrolling and shoved his phone in his pocket, then turned and stared at Steve for a moment, blinking with the glassy stare of a man who hadn't gotten enough sleep last night. "Are you alright?" Steve asked quietly, while the water hissed through the espresso maker.
"Huh?" Tony's gaze snapped into focus. "Shit I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare. I was -" he waved his hand vaguely "- somewhere else."
"That's alright. I just hope you're not going to be responsible for operating any heavy machinery."
Tony chuckled. "Why do you think I made an emergency coffee stop? We're buying a building down the street and we keep having these early morning design meetings here, which means I have to go into the office even earlier, and it's really messing with my schedule. Thank god I noticed you guys. Been here long?"
"The shop's been here for three years. I've been here for two and a half."
"Oh? You don't own it? I thought you were the owner for some reason."
Steve tried not to beam at the idea that he could be taken for the owner. "Probably cause I threatened to fire Darcy. I'm the manager. The owner lives in Florida most of the year, so I do the bulk of the operation."
"Hmm." Tony gave him another once over, gaze considering. "Must be a lot of work."
Steve shrugged. "I enjoy it."
"You should buy the owner out," Tony said, smiling now. "Take over. Doesn't sound like they're very engaged."
"As appealing as that sounds… not only can I not afford it, but I have a dream job, and this isn't it. Not that I don't enjoy it!" he hastened to add. "I do. I love it here. But, you know."
"Gotta have a dream." Tony leaned forward over the end of the counter as Steve shook chocolate flakes on top of his mocha. "What's yours?" he asked, low and secret.
"Um." Steve pointed over Tony's head to the wall opposite. "That's my dream."
Tony spun around and came face to face with the huge painting of the Brooklyn bridge that greeted every customer as they came in the front door. "Wait, that's -" Tony turned back and peered at him. "Did you paint that?"
"Uh, yes. I did." And suddenly Steve felt very stupid placing the doodled cup in front of Tony. He considered double-cupping to hide it, but it was too late, Tony was already reaching for it.
"Wow. It's really, really good. I was going to ask if you knew who painted it. My CEO knows everything there is to know about art and I was looking forward to showing off my knowledge of my new favourite piece." Tony turned the cup to put a lid on and saw the squid. He broke into a smile.
"Sorry to ruin your brag. It's not a real artist, just me."
Tony's eyes narrowed then he smiled again. "Oh no, this is much better. Now I can tell her I know the artist personally. You're very good. Don't give up." Tony took another wad of bills out of his wallet and wriggled them into the already overflowing tip cup on top of his first tip. He picked up his coffee, smiling at the squid again, then grabbed his croissant bag and shot Steve a salute as he slipped out of the shop.
"Huh."
Darcy collided with Steve's back. "Holy shit, dude! Was Tony Stark flirting with you?! That was amazing. I almost came out, but you know, Ian and I are getting pretty serious and I'm not sure I could control myself from crawling over the counter."
"You've known Ian for three weeks."
"I know, right? We're practically married." Darcy elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Unlike Tony Stark, who is super single."
"Darce. I've been with my boyfriend for four years. I do not care if Tony Stark is single. I'm exponentially more married than you are."
"Oh. Right. Damn."
"Did you forget about Bucky?" Steve asked with a laugh. "That's so rude."
"Noooo. It's just you're the only gay guy who works here and he was hitting on you and I got excited."
"You get excited about everything." Steve pulled another cup from the stack and popped the top off his sharpie. "And he was not hitting on me. He was just being friendly."
"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say." Darcy twirled a rag around her finger then started rubbing at the coffee-stained countertop.
"He's right about one thing, though."
"What?"
"That menu is absolutely illegible."
**
Steve tried to juggle his keys, two coffee cups, a bag of muffins, and his backpack, but his keys kept sliding out of his tentative grip and he couldn't get the apartment one into the lock. He shoved the pastry bag between his teeth and tried again, but just as the tip was sliding in, the door swung open.
"Hey, Stevie," Bucky said with a smile. "I heard you jingling out there for like an hour."
"Thank you. Here." Steve nodded towards the cups and Bucky plucked them out of his hold and carried them inside. He sniffed both then set one on the counter and took the top off the other, blowing on it.
Steve dropped his backpack, kicked off his shoes and tossed the muffin bag at Bucky. He plucked it out of the air with one hand and stuck his face in it. "How was work?"
"Kinda wild."
"On a Tuesday afternoon?" Bucky reappeared, carrot muffin clenched in his hand.
"Not that kind of wild." Steve crossed the kitchen to press a quick kiss to Bucky's lips then opened the fridge door. He started pulling out the supplies for a sandwich. "You'll never guess who came in today. I thought Darcy was going to pee herself. She hid in the back the whole time."
"Who?"
"Tony Stark."
"No fucking way. What was he doing in your neighbourhood?"
"Hey! It's a nice neighbourhood. There's a… park."
"Sure." Bucky grinned around a mouthful of carrot muffin.
"Ass. Anyway, he's buying a building or something a few streets over -"
"In the actual nice neighbourhood."
"- and he needed a caffeine hit. He looked tired."
"Oh, yeah. I imagine being the richest guy in America is super tiring. Poor guy."
"Oh come on. He looked legitimately overworked."
Bucky set his muffin and coffee aside and hooked one of Steve's belt loops with one finger. He tugged him in close, leaning back against the kitchen counter and wrapping his arms around Steve's waist. He pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. "You are legitimately overworked."
"He - uh -" Steve's cheeks heated without his permission.
"What?"
"He said he liked my painting. The bridge. And I happened to do a dumb doodle on his cup. I should have given him a plain one. It was really embarrassing."
"What was it?"
"A dark chocolate mocha."
Bucky smacked him lightly on the arm and Steve laughed. "What was the doodle? You walnut."
"A squid."
"Cute."
"You're cute," Steve redirected gracefully, pressing into Bucky's space and stealing a long, heated kiss.
"I thought you were making a sandwich," Bucky whispered against Steve's lips, hands creeping up the back of his shirt.
"It can wait." Steve sunk against Bucky, deepening the kiss but not adding any urgency. They'd kiss and grope and tease, but Bucky knew how hungry and exhausted Steve would be after a shift and inevitably, he'd back off, making Steve finish his food before dragging him off to the bedroom.
Sure enough, When Steve nipped lightly at Bucky's bottom lip, he released him, pushing away from the counter and leading Steve back to the bag of bread he'd abandoned by the stove.
"How's Ed?" Steve asked as he tugged a knife out of the plastic cup they kept all their silverware in.
"She slept all day. She kept doing that thing where she has little doggie dreams and her feet twitch and she growls a little. She's chasing dream rabbits."
"She would never!" Steve insisted. "Hopper wouldn't stand for it. Maybe in her dreams they were having little Homeward Bound style adventures."
"There wasn't a rabbit in Homeward bound."
"I know. Hopper is the crazy young dog, Chance, and Eddy is Shadow. She even looks like him."
Bucky flopped back on the couch and stretched out long. "You should draw that," he said with a grin.
Steve laughed. "Maybe I will." He tugged a bag of sour cream and onion chips off the top of the fridge and pulled it open. There was a thump from the bedroom, followed by four steps with long breaks between them - stretching - and then the steady patter of footsteps down the hall. Ed appeared at Steve's side, panting heavily so she grinned up at him, eyes focused steadily on the bag of chips. "Oh I see how it is," he told her. "I come home and not a peep, but the chips come out -?"
"Cupboard love," Bucky said from the couch. "Come here, Eddy. If you come up here and look real cute, maybe we can each get a chip."
Ed set a slow trot for the couch then heaved her old bones up, first her front half, then her back, and flopped across Bucky's chest, stretching up to lick his face twice before tipping herself in the gap between his body and the back of the couch. Steve contemplated them from a few feet away, popping chips in his mouth.
"Aren't we cute?" Bucky fluttered his eyelashes, and Ed wiggled in his hold, fluffy golden tail going a mile a minute when his fingers found her belly.
"Yeah, I'll admit, you're pretty nice to come home to." Steve added himself to the haphazard pile on the couch, ignoring the way it creaked under their combined weight. He lifted a chip from his plate and offered it to Ed who crunched happily and wagged even harder. He dropped the next one in Bucky's mouth then set to work on his sandwich, one hand finding Bucky's where it draped over his thigh. His day at work started to drift away.