Chapter Text
The schedule kept for a few months. Tony would visit Espresso Supreme every weekday morning, popping in briefly to get his daily shot of caffeine and an eyeful of Stephen. On Saturdays, he'd hang out during the evening, sipping and eating idly as he worked and starting up relaxed conversations with the barista. It took a lot of prodding and time but Tony soon learned that Stephen had been a doctor before some sort of incident kept him out of the medical practice. A friend landed him the job as a barista, one that paid well enough for him to live comfortably, and he in turn befriended the other employees as well. It sounded too good to be true, of course, but Tony was cautious for once and didn't want to press lest he scare off his crush. What they had so far was hazy but good and Tony only wanted it to grow.
The holidays passed. Tony spent them alone. Ice melted and the world warmed. Spring breathed new life into everyone who experienced it.
"Gooooood morning!!" Tony called, whipping the door open with a flourish. April was nestled in his chest, making him feel bright and peppy.
"Morning, Stark." Wong grumbled. The faintest of smiles lingered on his lips. "We have a marshmallow latte starting today that Strange wanted you to try."
"Then he should make it for me." Tony winked.
He stopped, following Wong's sideways glance. His favorite slim waist and shock of salt-and-pepper hair was absent. Instead, a stockier man with a greyed ponytail and weathered skin was in his place. Tony's heart sank slightly.
"Who the fuck is that." He whispered, prompting a hard glare from the cashier.
"That's Kaecilius. Strange called in sick last night."
Tony's eyes narrowed slightly. Kaecilius. He knew that name and could now put a face to it. The man in question had his back to the register, working away. His movements were as confident as Stephen's were but harsher, jerkier. Where Stephen seemed to dance behind the counter, this man was robotic, almost emotionless. A chill ran up Tony's spine.
"Just uh. Give me a medium marshmallow latte, Wong." He shoved a fistful of bills into the tip jar, trying to keep the disappointment off his face. "Do you know when Stephen'll be back?"
"No," Wong replied, snapping the register around for Tony to sign. "Soon, not soon. I'm not sure. Strange sounded awful on the phone so I'm guessing it'll be a few days."
Tony nodded slightly before sliding down the counter to the pick-up area. Kaecilius was dressed like Stephen, confirming his suspicion that the black on black was a uniform. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, his shirt buttoned up to his chin. Instead of comfortable dark sneakers, he looked to be wearing dress shoes. He turned slightly, eyes downcast and focused on his work. The skin below his eyes was dark. From lack of sleep or horribly smokey eyeliner, Tony couldn't tell.
"So you're our doctor's little friend."
Tony looked up, the color washing out of his face. Something sinister echoed in the man's voice.
"Yuh-yeah. I am. Is that a problem? 'Cuz last I checked, Stephen was a grown ass man and--"
"No problem. I'm sure Mordo has already appropriately threatened you."
Tony nodded, swallowing thickly.
"Good. As he should," Kaecilius placed Tony's drink on the counter. "That goes for everyone else here."
Tony muttered his thanks, snapping up his drink and absconding immediately. A dark cloud passed over his heart, sending down a flurry of rain and lightning. He'd be fine, he decided. If Stephen truly was sick, the man deserved his rest.
Tony only hoped his fellow barista wouldn't slit his throat by the end of the week.
"Strange, Strange, Strange-- you'd think such a weird fucking name would yeild immediate results."
Tony thumbed through Google, his soldering iron still flickering at his elbow. He was deep in work but an incessant and annoying buzz hummed at the back of his mind.
"So you're our doctor's little friend."
Kaecilius was creepy for sure but it was his intonation then specifically that stuck. It was the realization that Strange's past as a doctor was, to some capacity, complicated. That little tidbit had never escaped the barista's lips. Maybe he was condemned or possibly even ashamed of his previous career. No matter the reason, Tony's curiosity was piqued and he needed more to go on.
The term was broad, the fields of science and medicine being endless, so it was challenging to narrow his scope, but he was determined. He spelled Strange's name at least a dozen different ways, hoping that would yield results. He assumed he was a medical doctor, seeing as he understood Tony's notes on spinal cord rehabilitation with ease. Even then, Google gave him nothing.
"Perhaps this is something to discuss in person and not to snoop around for, sir?"
Tony gasped, scrambling in his seat. He gripped at his chest, his breathing heavy and panicked.
"Fucking hell, Jarvis!" He barked, taking deep shaky breaths. "Knock next time maybe?!"
"I apologize, sir." Jarvis didn't look remotely sorry.
He crossed the workshop, expertly balancing a tray of food as he stepped over countless abandoned projects. When he reached Tony's desk, he set the tray down. Coffee, tea, a bowl of oatmeal, a banana, an apple, a sandwich, a bag of chips. He'd come well prepared.
"Seeing as Mr.Strange has never mentioned his past," Jarvis resumed, his gaze lowered as he swirled a spoon through the coffee. "I would highly recommend you not look for answers like this. I'm sure when the time is right, he would mention it to you. No good ever came out of snooping."
"... You promise, J?" Tony quirked his brow, curling a hand around the apple and taking a large bite.
"I promise."
Pursing his lips, Tony swallowed thickly. The sweet juice of the apple felt bitter at the back of his throat. Putting it back, he ran a hand through his hair, reclining in his seat. The HUD before him read 12:25am.
"Perhaps... A gift would impress Mr.Strange when he returned?" Mischief glittered in Jarvis's eyes.
"Yeah?" Tony smiled. "That's definitely an idea. I'll start some blueprints. You should get some sleep, J."
"As should you, sir."
With an affectionate smile, Jarvis made his way out of the workshop, leaving Tony to his work.
A week later, Stephen was back.
Tony was thankful, the gift he'd prepared having weighed heavy in his pocket for the full seven days. When he walked into Espresso Supreme the morning of, the air felt warmer, the shop looked brighter. A subtle sunniness emanted from Wong who offered his first hint of a smile in two weeks.
"Stark." He nodded, watching their most dedicated customer's face.
"Wong," Tony replied, matching his demeanor. "Any springtime specials today?"
"I'll see what the barista recommends."
Tony signed the tablet with a flourish, tucking a twenty dollar bill into the tip jar. When he slid down the counter, he was surprised to find Stephen waiting for him already, his hip propped against the cabinets, his gaze burning brightly.
"I heard you missed me," Stephen's bassy timbre sent chills down Tony's spine. "Mordo thought he saw you openly weeping into your cup yesterday."
"Yeah well Mordo clearly needs his eyes checked. I was sobbing, not weeping, huge difference."
Stephen smiled and any lingering ill feelings disappeared immediately. Tony felt like he was on cloud nine, floating high above the city in the arms of a man too wickedly charming for his own good.
"How are you feeling?" Tony prompted, watching as Stephen started to work.
"Better, thank you. Just a common springtime cold, nothing serious."
"I mean. Serious enough for you to miss work."
Stephen nodded slightly, humming under his breath. He brewed up three shots of espresso, ducking under the counter and pulling out a small can while the cup filled with dark bitter liquid. He spooned three gooey helpings of condensed milk into a separate cup then topped it off with ice. A dash of water helped thin out the espresso before it was poured into the awaiting cup. Whorls of creamy beige and earthy brown swirled together before settling, creating a lovely gradient of color.
"Vietnamese iced coffee." Stephen receited.
He showed no hesitation when Tony retrieved his drink, covering the other man's hand with his own. The thin layer of Stephen's gloves served as the only barrier between them. Cold condensation trickled down Tony's palm while comforting warmth seeped into the back of his hand.
"Would... You like to come over tonight for a drink?" Stephen asked. His cheeks were slightly pink but his eyes sparkled with confidence.
"... But you're working right now."
"I meant come over to my apartment."
Tony's eyes widened. Finally they were making progress.
"Yeah, sure, I'd love to." He replied smoothly, trying his best to appear nonchalant.
"Excellent. I'll see you at 8pm then."
Wong called an order, prompting Stephen to draw his hand back. He managed a quick wink, lips curling into a smirk, before he swept his hands over his beloved machines and got back to work. Tony took his drink, twirling it gently to mix it better. He took a long sip, moaning happily as bitter coffee and cloying condensed milk burst across his tongue. As he walked through the door, he could hear Stephen chuckling softly to himself.
Tony pulled up in front of Stephen's apartment complex at 7:55pm on the dot. He made his way to the door, quickly finding the apartment number and buzzed the intercom.
"Hello?" A familiar baritone purr rumbled.
"Candygram!" Tony replied, trying his best to smother the smarm in his voice.
"About time, you're only five minutes early."
The intercom snapped off as the door clicked open. Tony stepped inside and made his way to the third floor. He barely had a chance to knock before apartment 301 swung open.
"Evening." Stephen beamed.
Tony tried his best not to squawk like a flustered teenager. Stephen was wearing a dark slim-fitting sweater with even darker and slimmer pants. He looked the picture of casuality, his usually perfect hair mussed up in an artful swoop, his posture relaxed. Tony swallowed thickly, his heart hammering even harder.
"Come in, I was just making some tea."
"Oh? No coffee?"
Stephen hummed a laugh, leading Tony inside. The apartment was decently sized, though the endless rows of bookshelves made it feel smaller. Incense was burning somewhere, filling every room with a thin spice-scented fog. Every surface was neat and clean but the coffee table was littered with books, some open to a bookmarked page, others closed and set aside. Stephen made short work of cleaning it up, returning each book to its rightful spot. Music was playing softly (possibly Journey but it was hard to tell).
"Oh, I uh brought this," Tony held out the box he was holding, plucking at the pink bow tied around it. "I assumed we were gonna have coffee so I picked up some stuff."
"Thank you so much." Stephen grinned.
When he took the box, he leaned in close, dropping a soft kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth. He took it to the kitchen, leaving Tony to steam in the middle of the living room.
"Oh wow, these looks delicious!" Stephen called. "I'll have to pick a different tea to go with these."
As he busied himself in the kitchen, Tony took to looking around. The books seemed to be the centerpiece, taking up every possible corner they could. From a glance, the subjects ranged wildly, from cookbooks to astronomy, medical journals to travel guides. They all looked well taken care of but clearly used, each seam and page lovingly turned and appreciated. Tony pulled one from a shelf and thumbed through it, eyes darting back and forth. He didn't remotely understand any of this spirtual nonsense but Stephen seemed to at least be fascinated by it. Page after page detailed the effects of meditation on the body, opening chakras, focusing your inner self, and so on. The herbology seemed flawed at a glance but Tony wasn't well versed in Eastern medicine, or really much medicine at all.
He rubbed one of the page's corners between his fingertips, smiling to himself. 3D imaging software suited him better but the weight and nostalgic scent of a physical book had its comforts.
"Tony?"
He snapped the book shut, delicately tucking it where he'd found it. When he sat on the sofa, Stephen joined him, placing a cup of tea in front of either of them and laying out a plate of desserts. Tony had visited his favorite pastry shop, one filled with sugary Mediterranean sweets. He picked up plenty of baklava and finger cakes, as well as crisp cookies and fillo dough rolls. The tea smelled heavenly, minty fresh and lightly sweetened, the herbal overtones complimenting the taste of spice and rose water.
When Stephen went for a cookie, Tony realized he wasn't wearing gloves for the first time. He tried not to be loud but a gasp was ripped from his chest.
"Oh. Hah. Right," Stephen set the sweet down, lifting his hands. They were trembling. "I guess. You've never actually seen them."
"What. What happened...?"
Tony hesitated, pressing his palms to Stephen's. The back of his hands were a map of scars, pale lines tracing down every finger, spiderwebbing down to his wrists. They were all precise, clearly expert work, but gnarly nonetheless. A pang of empathy ran through Tony's chest. His own scars, especially the ones sitting atop his sternum, seemed to throb in his skin.
"It was a car accident," Stephen's voice was thick. "I uh. Wasn't paying attention to the road and. It was raining. I lost control. It's a miracle I survived but. My hands clearly didn't."
"... That's why you had to leave the medical field." Tony replied in awe.
"Yeah. Kind of hard to operate as a neurosurgeon when your hands shake."
Tony tried his best not to stare. He cradled Stephen's hands in his own, stroking every fingers and squeezing his wrists gently. Stephen was tense but didn't voice any nonconsent.
"I was... Offered a job at Espresso Supreme through a uh. Rehabilitation program," Stephen spoke up. "Many of the other employees are physically disabled to some extent. The owner works in physical therapy as well so. We're taken care of. She belives in looking beyond what you might feel you are and..."
Stephen exhaled slowly.
"Sorry. It's been a couple years but it's all still--"
"Fresh?"
Stephen nodded, eyes wide.
Tony took one of his hands and pulled up his shirt. Stephen watched, holding his breath, as his fingers were led to Tony's chest. Right in the center, he could feel the distinct pattern of a scar, twisted and raised on smooth skin. It was circular with a shaky triangular pattern etched within the ring.
"I was caught in an explosion out in Afghanistan," Tony explained. Stephen's palm was warm on his skin. "A... Friend took care of me, ripped out the shrapnel that threatened to stab into my heart. I almost died in that cave, Stephen. I've had my own share of miracles."
Without thinking, Stephen leaned in and pressed his lips to Tony's. The kiss was chaste, barely skin deep, but tears prickled at the corners of Tony's eyes. He let his eyelids flutter shut, indulging in the feel of Stephen's soft mouth against his own, the catching velcro of their beards. One kiss melted into another and another until neither man could breathe. Even as they struggled for air, the kisses continued. Tony found himself sinking into the couch, Stephen pressing into him from above. When his head hit the armrest, they parted. A lone tear was fading against Stephen's cheek.
"Sorry," the barista panted. "I'm sorry, I. It's hard to find people who understand."
"I getcha."
"Plus I also do actually y'know. Like you."
Tony huffed a laugh, tilting his head back to meet Stephen's gaze. Even after all these months, his eyes took Tony's breath away.
"Yeah. I like you too."