Chapter Text
„Don't you dare light that cigarette here inside,“ Tony points a finger, glaring at Maria who has a Lucky Strike in her one hand and a lighter in another. “Margaret will start coughing again and we don’t want that, do we?”
Maria rolls her eyes and slips off the stool. Tony watches her until she’s out of the shop, smoking outside. He resumes with washing the dishes, half listening to the ever-present chatter in the shop, half lost in his thoughts. It’s early winter, mid-afternoon and it’s starting to get dark outside which means it’s time to turn on the lights in the shop.
“Rhodey, do me a favor and turn on the lights,” Tony tells his friend who’s sat at the bar, annoying him every now and then.
“Hell no,” Rhodey responds and sips some of his caramel tea. “That thing flickers way too often.”
“I called the electrician again, just turn them on today,” Tony tells him as he carefully places teacups on their designated spots on the shelves.
Rhodey snorts. “You’ve called the electrician five times this month and the lights are still flickering,” Rhodey retorts, throwing a glance at the fairy lights surrounding the tea shop’s ceiling.
“Rhodey, it’s not a ghost,” Tony sighs and returns to drying the rest of the dishes.
“Oh, really?” Rhodey says, persistent. “Then how do you explain those footsteps you hear every night?”
“The neighbors.”
“Yeah, like our 95 pounds heavy Steve can make that much noise. Please, Tony,” Rhodey continues, scowling at Tony.
“Bucky is sometimes over, we all know they’ve been fucking,” Tony shrugs and bends under the bar to grab a dry towel – and to avoid Rhodey’s judging look.
He hears Rhodey lean over the bar. “Those footsteps started the night you moved in ten months ago and those two have been a thing for like six.”
Tony pretends he’s fumbling with something, stalling.
The footsteps didn’t start the night he moved in. Or perhaps they did? The first night he fell asleep as soon as his body reached his new bed. The day had exhausted him with moving in and decorating his new home and shop. His friends Pepper and Rhodey had helped him, bringing him ornaments of all kinds.
Pepper had given him a piano, black and matte – Tony had guessed that happened with age. Nevertheless, the notes sounded just right and Pepper had played a few melodies as Tony and Rhodey put up fairy lights Rhodey had brought him.
Rhodey, being a sentimental soul, had also brought along his cherished Polaroid camera and snapped pictures as the moving in progressed. Soon, walnut colored walls of the tea shop that had once been empty got covered by photos, fairy lights and posters.
Tony went to bed smiling.
The second night his friends dragged him out to a bar to celebrate and he returned home early in the morning with his clothes wrinkled, hair mussed, but a wide smile on his face.
The third day, a day before officially opening his tea shop, he spent the day checking and rechecking his supplies and deliveries. One of his neighbors, Darcy from the next door bakery, visited him with a plate of just-out-of-the-oven cookies. Tony offered her tea and they sat down at one of the tables and talked. She told him about the neighborhood, how close the community was and how sure she was Tony would fit right in.
“The comic book store next to you is owned by Steve,” Darcy told him, holding her teacup close to her lips with both of her hands enveloped around it. It was January; a rather cold one in Tony’s opinion and only then Tony noticed how truly cold the shop is. He assumed the fireplace in the shop would solve that problem, but he was wrong. Buy heaters, he noted.
“He’s sick, again , so he couldn’t make you a housewarming gift,” she continued. “Also, the twins are right across the street – you know, the tarot shop – and don’t be creeped out by them,” she said casually. “You might meet them at some point, I don’t know, I’ve seen them, like, seven times in the five years I’ve been here. They’re still an active part of our community though.”
Darcy spoke a lot and Tony was so glad he could sit down for the first time in months and relax before the opening.
When Darcy left after a few hours, Tony rushed out of the shop and purchased three heaters and placed them in the shop. He hummed satisfactory when the room warmed up within an hour. Things were slowly working out and he was happy.
He was putting his pajamas on, bones heavy under his skin and eyelids heavier when he heard something downstairs in the shop. He paused mid-step, kept his breathing silent as he focused on every sound.
Another thump.
His eyes flew to his phone which was charging a few feet from him.
Another thump.
His heart started racing and suddenly he couldn’t keep still anymore. He moved towards the phone, floorboards creaking, causing his heart to start beating even faster. He fumbled with his phone, his arms liquid-like.
Another thump. Then, a series of them. As if they were getting closer. Walking up the stairs.
The light from his phone blinded him for a few moments and he almost dropped it. He typed out his passcode, lowly cursing himself for having an entire ACDC lyric as his passcode and called Rhodey of all people.
“Hullo?” Rhodey said after a few rings in which Tony almost went into cardiac arrest. He had probably woken him up.
Tony was about to say something when he felt hairs on his neck rise.
Another thump. Right outside his bedroom door.
His breath stopped short and there was Rhodey on the line saying something Tony couldn’t put his focus on. He stared straight ahead at the shitty wallpaper, one hand holding his phone to his ear, other one limp by his side. His mind was racing, thinking if he has closed his bedroom door, if he had a lock, if he could make it to the window in time to jump, if he’d survive the jump, if if if if if if
A series of thumps. Tony let out a whimper. It sounded like they were stepping away from his bedroom door.
Tony doesn’t know how long he stood frozen in that spot that night, he just knows he went to bed and fell into a dreamless slumber and woke up the next morning with a million explanations.
It was a burglar. They didn’t take anything though.
Old pipes. He’s never called the plumber over.
The neighbors. Later he’ll learn his neighbor is Steve who has a body the size of a toothpick.
The wind?
Tony’s imagination?
A bad dream?
Stress?
He didn’t get his answer that night, or the following morning when he first opened his shop, greeting his very first customers with a genuine smile, traces of previous night’s terror gone from his face.
However, he received an answer by the end of the week.
A poltergeist.
The thumps proceeded to scare the hell out of him for a week. Then, they stopped and Tony was happier with admitting he was going crazy than acknowledging there was a ghost in his house. The first thump-free night made Tony’s skin crawl more than the night the thumps first began. It felt like calm before the storm, as they say. The silence was deafening.
He trudged downstairs the next morning, hating how loud his footsteps were in the house. Maybe he was alone after all.
He was proven wrong almost as soon as he put his foot into the shop. A wave of warm air flooded his body and the fairy lights started flickering. He stood fixed in the doorway, taking in the sight. He noticed a few of the photos scattered around the shop. Then, the bell above the front door rang once, causing Tony to jump a foot in the air.
“Jesus Christ!” he gasped, grabbing his chest. The lights stopped flickering, the cold air was back and the photos flew in the air as if something rushed past them. Then, Tony felt something – pressure ? – brush his forearm. He fell silent again.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay frozen in the entrance of the shop forever because he had an actual job which involved moving his ass around and being productive. He sighed and began cleaning the shop. He put the photos back on the walls, checked if the lights were still working and made sure the heaters were on.
It lasted for a month. He’d wake up every morning to find a mess in his shop, like someone held a softcore rave party the night before. He’d clean it up, prepared himself for the day full of steaming tea and chatter in the shop, as if it was completely normal to clean up after a poltergeist.
After a month of waking up early to tidy the shop before a ctually starting the day, the poltergeist would just welcome him into the shop with a gust of warmth.
“Thanks, ghost,” Tony would say, smiling to himself. He’d no longer find the photos cluttered on the floor. As the number of photos grew bigger after each day passed (Rhodey really liked taking photos), the more inconvenient (yet, somehow still convenient) places Tony would find them. Sometimes, Tony would reach under the bar to get something and find a polaroid in its place. Sometimes they were on his nightstand, sometimes in the refrigerator, sometimes in the drawer where Tony kept coasters. He didn’t mind it though. Sometimes he liked to be reminded of memories he had shared with his friends.
Speaking of his friends, he never told any of them that he had a poltergeist for a roommate. No one would believe him. And, a part of Tony always feared that they’d find out sooner or later and call an exorcist or something. He liked his poltergeist. They kept him company. Minimal and silent, but company nonetheless.
The minimalistic state began to melt as hotter days came. The amount of customers perpetually grew larger each week and even though the poltergeist rarely showed any activity during open hours, they proceeded to communicate with Tony more often.
Just like Tony became friendly with the shop’s regulars, the poltergeist became more comfortable with Tony’s presence in the shop.
Pepper would, if she was in a good mood, play something on the piano and rise the shop’s atmosphere in an instant. Nat, a ballerina from a circus at the edge of the town, would begin dancing to that and people would cheer and Tony’s smile would be so wide his jaw hurt.
At night, when he’d have a nightmare, he’d wake up in cold sweat to a broken version of Pepper’s melody playing downstairs. Despite the fact the melody didn’t sound the same, Tony appreciated the gesture.
To return the favor, Tony asked Pepper to give him notes of her melodies. He ignored her questioning look as he accepted the notes and placed them on the piano.
The melodies sounded better after each night.
Maria, a regular who sometimes acted like she owned the place, came in one day with an armful of books and dropped them on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. “Trust me with this,” she only told him before she left. Not knowing what to do with them, Tony was compelled to buy a bookshelf and place it by the fireplace.
The number of customers rose.
The poltergeist started pulling books out of the shelf and dropping them on the floor. It took Tony a while to realize that the poltergeist was asking for permission to read them. Tony more than eagerly nodded at thin air.
“Buddy, whatever helps you pass time,” Tony encouraged and even approached the shelf himself to point at his favorite books. Their tradition to discuss their favorite books every night before bed was created that day and soon formed into discussing whatever came to their minds.
Tony learned how to read the poltergeist even though he never heard them talk or saw them. A wind of warmth always meant a good thing or a yes while the temperature dropping was a negative sign. Sometimes Tony found it unfair how the poltergeist could see him, but Tony couldn’t see them. He contemplated Googling them and even went as far as typing in his address to find out more when his laptop was closed shut.
“What’s wrong?” Tony asked, fingers stuck mid-air since he had been typing. “I just wanna know what you look like.”
The room was cold, colder than usual. “But, why?” Tony insisted, furrowing his brow.
The laptop shook.
“I feel like you’re sassing me right now or something,” Tony said and felt the temperature rise. “But, come on. At least let me find out your name?”
The temperature stayed still.
“So is it like a male name or something? Tony persisted.
After a pause, as if hesitating, came warmth.
“Does it start with an A?”
Cold.
“Okay, B, then?”
Warm.
“Okay, nice, is the next letter a vowel?”
Cold.
“No? Is the second letter L?”
Cold.
“Is it R?”
Warm.
“Okay, we’re closer, good,” Tony smiled and leaned back in his chair. He cracked his knuckles and kept brainstorming. “B and R, names starting with B and R…”
“Bryce?”
Very cold.
“I agree, that’s a terrible name. How about Brad?”
Cold.
“Brock? Like the Pokémon guy?”
Cold.
“Brandon?”
Cold.
“Brat? Cause you can certainly be one sometimes.”
A shove on his left.
“Okay, calm down, jeez. Is it Brian? Bradley? Braxton? Brooklyn? Bruno?”
Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold.
Tony sighed. “Man, I don’t know… Bruce?”
WARM .
Tony, unable to hold back his delight, started laughing and didn’t stop for a good minute.
“Bruce, my man!” he shouted and started laughing and sweating and he felt pressure on his wrist and he tried to not to dwell on it for the rest of the evening.
That night, he found out Bruce was a man, around his age, had brown hair, wore glasses (“I knew you were a nerd”) and so many other things.
“Why didn’t we think of this earlier?” Tony asked as he scrolled down a list of 800 questions he found online. “What’s your favorite color? Mine’s red. Is yours blue?”
Cold.
“Green?”
Warm.
Tony didn’t go to sleep that night. He suffered the next day, but now he knew so much about Bruce and he was so interesting and Tony couldn’t wait to close the shop that day and start talking to Bruce again.
The conversation didn’t last long because Bruce purposely refused to speak to him unless he went to bed. Tony begrudgingly obliged, trekked upstairs as loudly as possible to let Bruce know that he wasn’t content with the arrangement. However, he fell asleep within the minute when he lied down.
“Do you like tea?” Tony asked Bruce one night as he lounged on the sofa in front of the fireplace. “I can’t believe I never asked you that,” Tony muttered, bewildered. “But yeah, yes or no?”
Warm.
Tony grins. “I knew I liked you for a reason,” Tony got into a sitting position, curiosity perking up. “Favorite flavor?”
Cold.
“You’re not usually indecisive,” Tony said. He got onto his feet and flew across the room to a drawer where he kept his tea bags. “Let me make you a cup of tea and you decide if you like it.”
Cold.
“Yeah, I know you can’t taste it, but you can judge by its color or something. You’ll figure it out. You’re smart.”
Warm.
“You like it when I compliment you, don’t you?” Tony winked at thin air and chuckled to himself as he started preparing orange tea.
Warmer.
“Is that a poltergeist’s equivalent of blushing?” Tony asked, slightly blushing himself, but he could easily blame it on the heat.
Cold.
“Yeah, and I’m Mother Theresa,” Tony replied, rolling his eyes fondly.
That night, Tony left Bruce a cup of orange tea on the counter and went to bed. “Let me know if you like it,” is the last thing Tony told him.
The next morning, Tony found the tea staining the carpet. He sighed. “Not quite what I meant by letting me know if you like it, but it’ll do.”
No change in temperature. Tony waited.
“I’m bitter because it’s 5 am, not because you spilled tea all over the carpet,” Tony reassured him and felt the temperature rise significantly. Tony smirked. “I’ll make you something else tonight,” Tony added as he placed the empty teacup in the sink.
Warm.
Tony smiled. He was smiling a lot lately.
He carried on making Bruce tea each night until he settled on one – vanilla tea. Tony woke up to find the tea unspilled and pressure on the small of his back.
He smiled a lot wider that day.
One morning in early June Tony woke up to the backdoor wide open, warm summer air flowing in. “Bruce?” he called as he made his way to the shop. He heard scratching as he got closer and was soon met with quite a display.
On Pepper’s armchair in the corner of the room was curled a white cat. A white and brown cat was scratching his carpet. A gray cat was walking between his feet, surprising him.
“What the hell?” he whispered, watching in shock as the gray cat purred and jumped on his knee with its front paws. “Bruce, was this you?”
Warm.
Tony scowled. “You fu – why?”
Warmer.
“Should’ve figured you’re a cat person,” Tony mumbled, shaking his leg in order to get the cat off of him.
Cold.
“Then why did you let them in?” Tony asked as he moved behind the counter to make himself coffee.
Pause.
“Don’t know how to say it?” Tony said. “Well, buddy, you should’ve figured it out before you turned my tea shop in an animal shelter.”
Pressure on his upper arm. An apology, Tony guessed.
Now it was Tony’s turn to pause. The pressure on his arm only grew firmer.
“Fine, I forgive you,” Tony spoke at last and continued to make himself coffee, adding three teaspoons of sugar because he felt like he deserved it. “Even though I still have no idea why you let them in. Are they stray cats?”
Warm.
The gray cat was back, mingling around again.
“Great,” Tony sighed and massaged his scalp. “I’ll need to take them to the vet then. Don’t want diseases near my teas.”
Pressure on his cheek.
“I said I forgive you,” Tony intended on saying it with more venom in his voice because a) it was 5 am and b) he didn’t know how to take care of cats. But instead, it came out softly and he found himself not minding it one bit. “Now help me name them.”
They named the white one Milk because Bruce was strongly against the name and Tony felt like avenging himself. The white and brown one was named Jasmin because the cat had been scratching the spot where Bruce spilled jasmine tea once. The gray one meowed very faintly, almost not at all and Tony named her Mouse because when Tony suggested the name to Bruce, he felt pressure on his whole left side and the room was instantly warmer. Bruce laughed, therefore, Tony had to name the cat Mouse.
Tony called Pepper and asked her if she could watch the shop for a few hours while he took the cats to the vet. She only sighed and said yes, getting very used to odd occurrences that embellished Tony’s life.
As he was saying goodbye to Bruce, he realized he hadn’t left the shop in months following the opening. Sure, sometimes he walked over to Darcy to borrow sugar or to sign a package. The awareness hit him like the hot sun when he stepped out of the shop, balancing three cats in his arms.
Milk was calm, seemed like she was always bored and hated everything around her. A typical cat then. Jasmin was loud, meowed at everything and scratched everything. His current target was Tony’s throat. Lovely. Mouse was wild, ran at least 3 marathons around the shop before the vet visit, and kept jumping everywhere because only sky’s the limit.
The vet declared the cats clean of any diseases and injury-free, much to Tony’s glee. He stopped by a pet store and bought them a bunch of toys and food and returned home smiling like a loon. He couldn’t wait for him and Bruce to play with the cats tonight.
Pepper greeted him with a raised eyebrow before breaking into a bright smile. “They’re adorable!” She pulled Milk out of his embrace and nuzzled her cheek on her white fur.
Soon, the whole shop found out about the new tenants and poor things had to endure hours and hours of annoying children and adults stroking their fur. After closing, they were so grateful of silence that they just lied in the middle of the shop, exhausted. Tony understood them completely.
The business continued to grow and Tony befriended even more customers.
There was Clint, an acrobat from the circus, who unapologetically started writing on the walls, starting a tradition among the customers. Promptly, the tea shop’s wall was filled with all kinds of text, ranging from quotes to lyrics to poetry to memes to gibberish. Clint also gave himself liberty to decorate Tony’s furniture with stickers. There was a rainbow sticker on table five, a Sponge Bob sticker on the fireplace, a row of kitten stickers on the mirror’s frame. They could be found everywhere and Tony had grown very fond of them.
Clint even once asked him if he could hold poetry nights in the shop, only once a week and Tony told he’d think about it. Later that day, he consulted Bruce about it, knowing how he felt about other people’s company in the shop.
Warm.
“Oh, so you like poetry?” Tony asked and sensed the temperature rising in response. “Didn’t take you for a romantic.”
Cold.
“Ah, no taking it back now!” Tony laughed. “Besides, I don’t mind.”
Pause.
Warm.
Tony laughed more.
And so Clint held his poetry nights every Saturday night from 7 pm to 10 pm. Tony could tell Bruce enjoyed them because it wasn’t as cold in the shop on Saturdays.
After an interesting poetry night, Tony started telling Bruce about his favorite singers and albums, played some of them to him and tried singing until his voice broke after attempting to hit a high note.
“Sorry about that,” Tony told him, rubbing his neck in embarrassment.
Pressure on his wrist.
Tony stayed silent.
In mid-July, Tony was woken up by loud thumping on the walls, floors, ceiling, everywhere and he jumped out of his bed so fast he gave himself a brain rush.
“What, what is it, Bruce?” Tony exclaimed, running downstairs frantically. Downstairs, the bell above the front door rang like crazy and Tony could only stare at it because he didn’t get it . “Bruce…,” he started lamely, feeling useless. “What is it, could you – “
Then he smelled it. Smoke. He first whipped his head to the fireplace, but there was no fire in it because he always put it out before bed. He ran to the stove, checked the wires, checked the fairy lights, checked everything he could.
“Bruce,” he said, desperately. “Where is it coming from?”
The bell above the front door rang again. The doorknob started shaking.
“Outside?” he asked as he moved towards the entrance.
Warm.
Tony sprinted outside. The street was filled with smoke, all coming from Darcy’s bakery.
“Oh, my god…,” he trailed off, captured by the sight of Darcy’s building engulfed by flames. He was put out of the trance by a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. He turned around, ready to shove the person away.
“She’s safe. She’s with us,” a young man told him, hand firm on Tony’s shoulder. Tony recognized him as one of the twins from the tarot shop. “We called the fire station. They’ll be here soon.”
Tony let the man take him to their tarot shop where he found Darcy wrapped in a blanket and being comforted by a young woman.
“Darcy, are you okay?” Tony asked immediately, kneeling beside her. She had some sort of powder in her palm. “Are those drugs?”
“Yeah, want some?” she chuckled when she saw the look of horror on Tony’s face. “Nah, calm down, Wanda says this’ll help me breathe.”
Tony looked at the young woman, assuming she’s Wanda. He nodded at her. She smiled in return, but only briefly before standing up and approaching her brother. They whispered something to each other, occasionally looking over to Darcy.
“Do you have somewhere to stay over?” Tony asked Darcy who snorted the powder.
She sneezed. “Oh, man, my sinuses are, like, super clean right now,” she chimed and took several big inhales through her nose. “Wanda, you’re the best.”
“Anytime, Darcy,” Wanda smiled. “I can let you have some more for later if you’ll need it.”
Darcy gave her a thumbs up and turned to Tony. “What did you say?”
Tony repeated his question. Darcy started nodding. “Oh, yeah, my apartment is downtown, I don’t live here.”
Tony sighed, relieved. “Thank God. But, what about your job?”
Darcy shrugged. “Gone, I guess.”
Tony frowned. “I’m sorry.”
Darcy smiled, obviously forced, but Tony let it slide given the circumstances. “I’ll figure something out.”
Tony returned home after an hour. He discovered the shop in a mess. Milk and Jasmin were meowing loudly, there were thrown chairs everywhere, peeled off stickers crumpled on the floor.
“Bruce…?” Tony called out. Lights flickered. The cats stopped.
Pressure on Tony’s cheek.
“What’s wrong?” Tony asked gently. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
Cold.
“Then what? Were you worried?”
Warm, very warm.
“Darcy is okay, don’t worry. Her bakery didn’t make it though,” Tony filled him in.
Cold.
“What?”
Pressure on Tony’s hand.
“I’ll pretend I understand,” Tony yawned. “I should go to bed.”
Warm.
Tony fell asleep that night, exhausted by the events, but the following nights he spent turning over and over in his bed. Over the months, he developed an attachment to the neighborhood and its residents. He had become good friends with Steve; a comic book store owner next to him who he rarely saw outside due to the fact Steve was a human magnet to sicknesses.
Tony and Darcy often visited Steve during his bad days, brought him freshly baked pastries and tea, listened to his oh no you shouldn’t have I’m already fine and to his coughs and wheezing. In fact, a few days before the fire, Darcy had mentioned how she had been thinking of raising money for Steve’s medicine.
They had already made plans to go around the neighborhood, collect money and spread the word about the fundraiser, but it all went to, well, flames.
It wasn’t the same without Darcy who would bring him blueberry muffins on her lunch break in exchange for chocolate tea and the latest gossip about what Bucky from the motor store down the street wore the other day. They’d moon over his God-like body over cups of steaming tea and part ways with blowing air kisses to each other. It annoyed the hell out of Rhodey.
Ever since Darcy’s unfortunate departure, Tony was left with outdated and dry donuts from the dollar store for lunch and moaning about Bucky’s perfectly sculpted biceps to Milk who couldn’t care less.
“Stop sulking,” Rhodey told him two weeks after the fire. Tony was laying face first on the counter, feeling nauseous from yet another stale donut. “If you miss her so much, just ask her to work with you. Start serving tea and pastries.”
Tony looked up. “Rhodey, you genius,” he gasped.
“Well, I a m a rocket scientist, after all,” Rhodey smirked, patting his chest with pride.
Tony all but scrambled to grab his phone and dialed Darcy’s number, tapping his foot impatiently when there was no answer after a few rings. Finally, after the umpteenth ring, Darcy picked up.
“What the fuck,” she mumbled. “You woke me up.”
“It’s noon?”
“I never had the luxury to sleep until noon, let me have this one good thing,” she said. Tony could hear rustling in the background. She was probably leaving her bed.
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it, I got your job back,” Tony told her and maybe, just maybe , did a little victory dance.
Darcy paused. “What do you mean?”
“You can work for me. We can combine our businesses,” Tony elaborated, flashing his most charming smile even though she couldn’t see him.
Darcy fell silent again. Tony grew more anxious. Perhaps it was a bad idea.
“You mean like, you make tea and I bake and we sell it together? In your shop?” she asked, just a sliver of uncertainty heard in her voice.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said and then trailed off. “It’d be fun. Right?”
“Let me call you back, okay?” she said and hung up.
Tony frowned at his phone, feeling hopeless again. He returned to work with his original sulking expression, much to Rhodey’s chagrin.
Twenty minutes passed when Tony’s phone started vibrating and he almost jumped out of his skin when he felt it in his back pocket. “Hello?”
“Oh, my god, I just had coffee and processed what you told me,” Darcy began right away. “Of course I’ll work with you; this is the best idea ever!”
Tony exhaled. “You had me worried for like twenty minutes, how dare you ?”
“Sorry, fellow co-worker – “
“You’re fired,” Tony feigned hurt in his tone. “You’re too unreliable.”
Pause.
Laughter from both sides.
Tony let Darcy use his regular kitchen as her workplace and the two hosted a party to commemorate the occasion and along with that held the fundraiser for Steve. Steve hadn’t been told anything about the event until the thing actually started on a Friday night.
Tony and company set the shop up for the party and then sent Darcy to go pick Steve up from his comic book store. Not even a minute after they had sent Darcy to Steve’s, she was already coming back empty-handed, but with a shocked expression.
A surge of questions followed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Is Steve alright?”
“Oh, God, it’s not another fire, is it?”
“Did you forget where Steve lives?”
Darcy flailed her arms to shut everyone up. “He’s fine. More than fine actually,” she told them and then giggled. “I caught him making out with Bucky.”
Everyone gasped and proceeded to cheer.
“You know, I was wondering why he wasn’t here tonight,” Tony said Darcy and sighed, relieved. Even the twins showed up, albeit Wanda didn’t look too comfortable. She kept looking around with a strange expression. Tony decided not to ponder too much, this night was meant for celebrating.
Tony said to Darcy in a mock-dramatic voice. “Who are we going to drool over next?”
Darcy wiped a non-existent tear from her eyes. “Our lunches are doomed. Our friendship is based on nothing now.”
Tony clutched his chest dramatically. “So… it’s all over?”
Darcy stepped towards the exit of the shop. “I’m sorry, Tony… I must go join those two in a threesome.”
Tony cracked up. “Just tell them to hurry up!” he shouted after her when she walked onto the sidewalk.
Finally, Steve and Bucky made an appearance a few minutes later with lips swollen and faces red. Darcy was behind them with a smug grin on her face.
Tony approached Bucky, grabbing his bicep to pull him closer. Okay, maybe the last part wasn’t as necessary, but Bucky had to hear Tony whisper:”You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”
The whole neighborhood was in on the fundraiser, including Bucky and even though their top priority was to keep it all quiet from Steve, Tony had to ask.
Bucky’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course, don’t even worry about it, man,” Bucky said, patting Tony’s shoulder.
Tony dwelled on the touch long enough to blurt out:”You’re so nice.” and then it was his turn to widen his eyes. To avoid any further awkwardness, Tony grabbed the first tray he saw on a table next to him and thrust it towards Bucky. “Have a cupcake.”
Bucky, no doubt a bit overwhelmed from almost having his nose shoved into cupcake frosting, excused himself and practically power walked to Steve.
Steve was on the other side of the room, sat on the sofa, smiling from ear to ear and trying not to have an asthma attack from all the excitement. Tony was beaming by this point, the sight of Steve with actual color in his cheeks completely erasing the embarrassment from a few moments earlier.
Darcy made her way to Tony, looking as pleased as Tony. They high fived and stood in silence a few minutes, content.
“So, Thor has massive biceps, right?” Tony said, winking at Darcy.
Darcy snorted before shaking her head. “He’s taken by Jane, sorry.”
Tony rolled his eyes agitatedly. “Why are all the hot ones taken?” Tony thought he felt pressure on his wrist for a fleeting moment. “Or dead,” he muttered to himself.
Darcy held her finger up. “A-a, have you met the new owner of the pet shop?”
Tony shook his head.
“His name is T’Challa and we should definitely take your cats there one day,” Darcy said. “For, you know, science.”
“Yes, of course,” Tony nodded. “Science is so… important .”
They burst into laughter. Their partnership was going to be so great .
The party continued in full swing until early hours of the next day, despite the fact Steve went back home after a few hours, exhausted and only a little drunk. He was not allowed to drink much due to his health, but it didn’t matter because only one glass of beer was enough to make him tipsy.
Once the shop cleared out, the sun was coming up and Darcy was barely keeping her eyes open. Tony let her stay over until she got enough sleep to drive back to her house. He tucked her in his bed and went back downstairs to clean up the shop. He was tired, but he didn’t like having his shop dirty. And, he hadn’t talked to Bruce the entire day.
“Bruce?” he whispered as he tiptoed down the stairs. “You near, buddy?”
Warm.
Tony smiled. “Hey, sorry for neglecting you the entire day. I’m sure you know why.”
Warm.
“Help me clean up?”
His answer came in a form of all popped balloons and pastry crumbs colliding into one in the middle of the shop’s floor.
“Oh, my god, I love you,” Tony gasped, staring at the pile of trash.
Warm.