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Tony doesn’t expect the event to be any more or less exciting than the others Pepper has roped him into attending. This one includes masks, though, so maybe a little more exciting. At the very least it means he doesn’t have to pull his usual dog and pony show, schmoozing and boozing his way around a room full of people wearing a fake smile and drinking far too much champagne in an effort to feign interest.
He almost never gets a chance to actually enjoy the event he’s attending, so he uses his time to look at some of the paintings around the gallery. The night is about displaying works created by students receiving the Maria Stark art scholarship and there’s something almost surreal about seeing them all here in one place, indirectly brought into existence with her help. She’d love this, he thinks.
Some look like someone vomited bright colors on a canvas, splatters upon splatters that make no sense. Then there are portraits and landscapes, and other abstract but still somewhat identifiable pieces. He’s rounding a corner after studying one that honestly looks like a Rorschach test, when he sees it.
His mother, young and vibrant with life, is painted on a large canvas. It has a wall to itself and Tony can’t help but gravitate towards it. The edges are feathered in a way that only watercolor can accomplish, the colors blending and swirling in a beautiful representation of his mom.
He doesn’t know how long he stands in front of it before he realizes there’s another person staring too, just a few feet away, hands tucked in his pockets. Where Tony’s mask is a mixture of gold sequins and red feathers that cover the top of his face and curl to cover his cheekbones as well, this guy’s reminds him a little of an old school superhero. Just with more feathers. Tiny red feathers line the eyeholes and the rest is covered in blue, except for patches of white feathers one either side of his head right above his ears.
The guy seems to sense his gaze because he angles his head enough to see him and nods in acknowledgement before turning back to the painting. Tony does the same, expecting the man to wander off soon, like the other guests who move through, giving it a cursory onceover before moving on. But he doesn’t. He stands and studies it like the canvas might reveal the secrets of the universe.
On a whim, Tony slides his phone out of his pocket and shoots Pepper a quick text. Less than a minute later his phone buzzes in response. <<It’s all yours. Now mingle.>> This painting is officially his, signed, paid, and to be delivered after the event ends at midnight. Giddy on his success, he turns to the blonde still staring at the painting and says, “it’s really amazing, isn’t it?”
The guy startles but quickly recovers, giving him a sheepish smile. “Yeah. It really is. Love the way it’s displayed.”
“Seems weird to stand here with someone for forty-five minutes and not swap introductions. What’s your name?” Tony steps a bit closer and extends his hand, which the other guy shakes.
“Thought this was a ‘no name’ kind of thing?” he asks instead of answering. His eyes are impossibly blue now that Tony is close enough to get a good look at them.
“Oh, yeah good point. Okay, fake name then, whatever you want. Go wild.”
“Grant?”
“Woah, there, too wild. Pull back on the reins a bit. Think of the children, will you?” Grant’s surprised bark of laughter is infectious and Tony can’t help but smile.
“It’s the first thing I thought of!”
“I can see that,” Tony laughs. “No, really it’s great. Grant it is. For solidarity’s sake I’ll pick a wild child name, too. I’ll be Edward.”
“You’re too kind, lowering your name standards for a total stranger.”
“Not a stranger anymore, Grant. And besides, anything for a guy who can stand here in complete silence admiring the same piece of art for this long.”
Grant rubs at the back of his neck and drops his gaze. “It just...it looks great. Never thought I’d see it in a gallery like this, so I-” Grant cuts himself off abruptly, sucking his lower lip between his teeth and shooting Tony a side-eyed glance before turning his attention back to the painting.
“Seen it before then?” Tony asks carefully, taking note of the tense line holding the other man’s shoulders rigid. The man’s worry is palpable, but it makes sense that he might have caught a glimpse of it before seeing as the whole guest list revolves around individuals involved in the Maria Stark Scholarship for the Arts Foundation.
“A time or two,” Grant agrees after a stretch of silence. He’s wearing a small, mischievous smile and Tony wonders if he’s missed the joke somewhere in their conversation.
He wants to ask, but instead he shrugs and says “I heard it’s sold already, so it’s a good thing you came to see it tonight.”
“It what? Someone actually bought it? Really? Wow,” Grant is far more excited at the news than Tony had anticipated, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he continues to express his elation in wild hand gestures and bright smiles. “Thank you for telling me, that’s amazing. Do you, uh, do you know who bought it? Not that it matters, I just…” he trails off and turns bright blue eyes on Tony, who’s temporarily frozen under the eager gaze.
“Stark. Tony. Tony Stark.”
“The Tony Stark?”
“Do you know any others?” Tony jokes, keeping his tone light even though his pulse is suddenly racing.
“Ah, no, no, I just didn’t realize he was interested in the arts, I guess. I didn’t even realize he’d see it. I hope I- the artist, I mean. I hope the artist did her justice and Mr. Stark didn’t just buy it to toss it in a dumpster somewhere.” He’s rambling now, something that Tony’s all too familiar with, rubbing his hands nervously down his jacket under the pretense of straightening it.
“He doesn’t have to know a lot about the arts to know something’s beautiful when he sees it,” Tony explains. He doesn’t realize he’s been staring at Grant until the man turns back to face him, hopeful grin curling the corners of his mouth.
“You really think so?”
“I really do,” he confirms, relieved to see a full smile light up the blonde’s expression.
“Wow. I’m still just, I’m blown away. I’m really glad I came tonight.”
“I’m glad you came to.” He doesn’t realize what he’s said until he catches the questioning look in Grant’s eyes and the start of a blush high on his cheeks. In for a penny, in for a pound, Tony thinks, feeling suddenly bold. “I know this is supposed to be a masked night of anonymity for all but do you think you’d want to maybe grab a cup of coffee with me one day? Or dinner? Long walk on the beach? Any of that doing anything for you?”
“We’re not- where would we even go to find a beach?” Grant laughs. “You’re really something, you know that?”
And Grant is smiling at him but he’s sure that he’s about to get rejected, but in that nice guy way that leaves you feeling like you didn’t just put your foot in your mouth and make an idiot of yourself. He takes a step back and lifts his empty champagne glass, readying an excuse about needing a new one so he can scamper off and forget he ever tried to set up a date with a total stranger. He really should just- “what?”
Grant is looking at him, head canted to the side, and Tony realizes he’s completely missed what he said. “I said coffee sounds great. Unless you’ve changed your mind? That’s fine, I mean, I get it, I-”
“No! No, coffee, yeah. Coffee is great. Definitely want to get coffee. With you. If you want, still?” Smooth, Tony. Real smooth. At least Grant seems to find him endearing and not insane, as he huffs out a surprised laugh and shakes his head.
“I want still. I’ll just write down my number if I can find a pen,” Grant says, patting at the various pockets of his outfit in what Tony takes is an effort to make a pen appear from thin air.
“You mean stuffing your suit with writing utensils for a late night, masquerade party wasn’t at the top of your getting ready routine? I’m shocked. I see you rolling your eyes, Grant, and I’m taking that as a compliment to the fact that I, at least, had the foresight to bring a pen. And this very high quality and definitely not used cocktail napkin to write on.”
Grant bites his cheek in a failed attempt not to laugh when Tony hands him a pen and napkin from the inside pocket of his jacket, the latter sporting a water-ring from where his champagne glass had rested earlier. He scribbles his number and holds it out for Tony who reaches for it slowly so as not to seem as eager as he really is.
Except. The paper vanishes just as Tony goes to close his fingers around it and he’s left clutching at air. Grant’s a magician , is his first thought, followed closely by the realization that there’s someone else standing there with them, blowing his nose into the napkin.
Tony wonders is he looks as surprised as Grant does. The blonde is staring, slack-jawed with surprise before he shakes himself out of it.
“Not a good idea. And oh look, time to go Cinderella.”
“What? Cl-”
The newcomer flails his hands wildly, interrupting Grant with, “ No names , dude. We talked about this. Ixnay on the amesnay. But really, we gotta go, so...come on we gotta-” he shoots a look in Tony’s direction and clamps his mouth shut, apparently not wanting to give anything else away.
Grant looks torn for a second, before the other, shorter man grabs him by the arm and starts dragging him towards the nearest exit. “I’m so sorry, I’ve got to go. Seems like an emergency, so I- It was really nice meeting you! If you want to find me just-”
And then the door slams, cutting off the last of Grant’s sentence and leaving Tony standing alone wondering what the hell just happened. No one else seems to have noticed the Twilight Zone episode Tony has suddenly found himself in.
He makes for the door, hoping to catch sight of them again, ask Grant what he had been trying to say maybe, but there’s no sign of them outside. He takes a few steps further anyway, lifting his mask and squinting into the night. Even with the streetlights, there’s no movement he can see, and he stops after a few minutes of searching, frustrated.
It’s when he turns around to head back in that he sees it, the red, white, and blue of Grant’s feathered mask lying near the top stair. Tony scoops it up and examines it carefully, hoping that it might offer some kind of clue as to where he can find its owner. There’s nothing, but he keeps it anyway, sliding the band over his arm so he won’t lose it.
He turns back to the street one last time and shakes his head.
“What the fuck just happened?”
---
By the time Pepper tracks him down the next day, he’s already ruled out every person on the invite list, including their plus ones, the kitchen staff, and everyone who works in a three block radius of the event venue that might have been involved in the event. He’s surrounded by paper and digital files when she arrives, taking in the scene around her as she slides Tony’s coffee across the desk towards him.
“New project?” she asks, and then, “wait, why are these all the guests from last night? Is that- why are you looking at our florist? Tony?”
“I’m trying to find someone.”
Pepper brows rise in surprise. “Must’ve left quite an impression. I’m surprised you haven’t just hacked the security cameras already, if we’re being honest.”
“I...might’ve already done that,” Tony shrugs, taking a long pull from the coffee Pepper brought. He doesn’t mention that he scrubbed through the various feeds, watching as Grant walked through and seemingly admired every painting on the walls until he had reached the picture of Maria. And the outside shots after they left hadn’t revealed much either. The two had simply jogged around the building and into a copse of trees nearby, effectively disappearing from view. “Nothing on it that helped though as far as I could tell. All he left was this.” Pepper picks up the mask that Tony points at and turns it over in her hands in a search that mirrored Tony’s own. She didn’t seem to find anything unusual about it either, however, and returned it to Tony’s desk.
“And you want to find him so badly because?"
“We had a date. Okay, well we were supposed to have a date, but then this dude blew his nose on the phone number and ran off with him so. I’m working on it.”
Pepper blinks at him, trying to unpack the meaning behind the words and eventually deciding to let it go without comment. “The fact that you’re still sitting here means you haven’t found him, I’m guessing.”
“That’s the weird thing. At first I tried sorting out anyone without blonde hair or blue eyes. Seemed easy enough. Except he wasn’t in that pile. So I thought maybe he’s had his hair done recently and just checked anyone with blue eyes. Nada. He’s not in that pile either. So then I just went through everyone on the guest list. And then the kitchen staff, the chef, the janitors, the security guards. All empty. None of them match. Jawlines don’t match, eyes don’t match. I don’t know what I’m missing.”
Tony huffs and sets his coffee down harder than is strictly necessary, then scrubs a hand over his face. “Who else would even know about it? Friends and family of the guests maybe? I could go through them all. Shouldn’t take to long for J to pull and sort through the files. I’ll give it a shot. J, give me a hand.” His fingers fly over the keyboard as the AI’s voice gives an affirmative from somewhere above their heads. Pepper starts thumbing through the files closest to her, even as profiles of the guest’s immediate family start to appear is small, holographic frames around Tony.
Tony is drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, waiting for JARVIS to finish compiling the data when Pepper’s sharp intake of breath knocks him from his reverie. “Tony!”
“Did you find someth- Pep that’s Mrs. Danners file. I know I’m pretty obtuse sometimes but I don’t think I’d mistake her for a man in his prime, even with the mask on.”
“I- what? No, Tony, I just had a thought. You said he ran off, right? What if he ran off because he wasn’t supposed to be there? What if he heard about the show and wanted to see it.”
“Why would anyone want to sneak into something like that? It’s boring. Free champagne and hors d'oeuvres are nice, but not exactly a huge draw for trespassers.”
“There’d have to be something you wanted to get from it.”
“Or something you wanted to see.”
Their eyes lock in a sudden eureka moment, and they both shout “the paintings!”
“If your art was going to be displayed at a prestigious venue for the first time, you’d definitely want to see it, right?” Pepper continued, speaking fast in her excitement.
“Pep, you’re a genius.”
“It’s about time you noticed,” she laughs, before it dies off and her brows knit together.
“No, go back to the happy face. I feel like you’re about to tell me bad news with this one.”
“It’s just...all the paintings were donated anonymously for the fundraiser. They came from schools all over the country. It could be any one of them. It’s more likely from a closer one, since they showed up to the event, but there’s no guarantee.”
“Okay, so, new plan. We figure out which painting is his and then find the school it came from. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?”
“If he’s an artist. We still aren’t sure about that. Did you see anything on the security footage that seemed like a giveaway? Any painting he stared at more than the others, anything he kept going back to, or something like that?”
Pepper waits while he debates on it. Grant hadn’t really hovered too long at any one painting, he’d just given each and everyone one a long look-see before moving on. Until he came to- “Maria!” Pepper startles as he snaps his finger and jumps from his chair.
“The painting of Maria. He said he’d seen it a few times before. That must mean something. And even without me there he stood at that one the longest. I think...I think it was him.” Grant’s behavior from the night before suddenly made sense- getting nervous when Tony asked questions about it, being so excited that it sold. It had to be him.
Pepper turns on her heel and takes off towards the living room where the painting is still wrapped and leaning against one of the walls from the night before, Tony right behind. The elevator takes far too long but it finally opens on the right level and Tony nearly trips in his hurry to get out.
She helps him extract the painting from its protective covering. “It really is beautiful, Tony,” Pepper tells him once its out. The soft features of his mother’s face look even better up close like this and Tony can’t help but to reach out and trace the gentle waves of her hair with his fingertips.
“And you say I don’t know art.”
“You don’t. But, this. You made a good call.” He sticks his tongue out at her and she just shakes her head before they examine the canvas. Tony finds the signature on the back, butted up against the edge and so small he’d probably have overlooked it if he hadn’t been looking so hard.
“So, who is it?” Pepper asks.
“I don’t know.”
“What?” Pepper comes around beside him to look as well.
“I mean that if art doesn’t work out for him he’s clearly got a place as a doctor. Look at that handwriting, it’s horrible.”
“It’s a signature, it’s not supposed to be in block lettering.”
“Would’ve been easier to read that way.”
“Would’ve. But on the bright side, you’ve found your mystery man. Sort of.”
“Stuart Little’s signature was bigger than this,” Tony grouses. With Pepper’s help to prop up the painting he takes a picture of the writing on his phone. “JARVIS, help me enhance this and search for matches online. Think we can do that?”
“Of course, Sir,” is JARVIS’ immediate reply.
It doesn’t take long for JARVIS to find a match, connecting it to an online portfolio belonging to one Steven Grant Rogers, a Studio Arts major at a college in Brooklyn. After that it’s a matter of following the trail. The school has shit security so Tony is able to glean the guy’s address from their database. He checks the profile while he’s in there, calling it due diligence when Pepper questions it. They keep the student ID card photos online as well and Tony might accidentally, definitely on purpose, click it just to be certain. He’s half afraid it will be someone else’s face that pops up but it’s Grant’s - Steve’s - sky blue eyes that peer back at him through the screen, same neatly parted hair.
“I’ll take care of your schedule,” Pepper promises on her way out the door. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
---
The fact that this is not a very good idea doesn’t set in until Tony’s already rapped his knuckles on the front door of a worn out looking apartment complex, unit 107, just like the school files indicated. He’s still wondering if there’s enough time to run when the door swings open, revealing two people that definitely aren’t Steve. The taller one has long black hair and the other looks oddly familiar although it takes Tony a few seconds to place why.
“It’s you!” Tony exclaims, jabbing a finger towards the shorter of the two. The one who dragged Steve away and ruined the phone number.
“Oh shit!”
Their eyes go comically wide seconds before the door is slammed in his face, leaving a confused Tony on the doorstep. Okay, so maybe not the best plan he’s ever had. He knocks, then knocks again when he hears muffled scrambling behind the door but no answer.
“I can hear you,” he calls out. A muffled “no you can’t” followed by a yelp and silence reaches him through the door. “Look, I’m here to talk to Steve. Steve Rogers? Is he home?”
“What do you want with him?”
“Just want to talk. He left something behind the other night, I just want to return it.
There’s more sound on the other side of the door and Tony thinks he can make out “he knows, he knows, oh shit” and “it’s actually Tony fucking Stark” before one of them pipes up louder to say “don’t know a Steve, sorry. Try New Jersey, maybe.”
“Not happening, big guy. Now just open the door and let’s-”
A third voice cuts in, and Tony thinks he recognizes the voice, even muffled through the door. “Steve?! Steve, is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s-”
“Can you come out here a minute, please?”
“Yeah, I uh, just give me a second. Be out in a minute!”
There’s more scuffling and what sounds like a hushed argument from inside the apartment that lasts a few minutes before Steve emerges, backing out of the door and pulling it closed despite the protests from inside before he turns around and goes stockstill.
“Hi, uh, Mr. Stark? I didn’t, I had no idea you were coming, or I’d have- why did you come?” He’s rubbing his palms on his khakis nervously, shifting from foot to foot. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he’s doing his best to look at anything that isn’t Tony.
“Tony. Please, Mr. Stark was my dad.”
“Oh, um. Sorry, Mr. St-Tony,” he corrects.
“We were supposed to get coffee,” Tony blurts. He was going to be tactful. Really, he was. He’d come up with all kinds of clever things to say on the way here that would make him sound like a reasonable, responsible adult and not like a tongue-tied teenager. Well, the best laid plans.
“What?!” Steve gapes at him from the doorstep, doing a fairly accurate impression of the goldfish Tony owned when he was eight.
“Coffee? You said you’d be okay with coffee because we couldn’t find a close enough beach and then your friend Nickelodeon slimed your number so I couldn’t call and here I am?” He ends it like a question, spreading his arms wide and trying his best not to look too hopeful.
“But that was…” Steve’s brow beetles in confusion. “That was you? You bought my painting and then asked me out for coffee?”
“To be fair I didn’t know it was your painting at the time. I just really enjoyed talking to you and thought maybe you had fun talking to me to. But, maybe I was wrong. This is stupid, I’m st- I shouldn’t have assumed you still wanted to go. Especially when you found out it was me. I’m sorry, I’ll just-” Tony’s already turning to go, so he can get home and hide in his lab for three days straight and decidedly not think about this ever again.
Suddenly, Steve is in front of him, barring his exit with a hand on his arm. “I do. I want to go. I’m just, shocked I guess. I didn’t think you’d find me. Or that you’d want to. Also not really sure how you did, but you can tell me another time.”
“Are you busy now? Want to grab a bite? My treat for the whole ‘showing up on your doorstep quoting Shakespeare and tossing pebbles at your window’ thing. Oh, here, I brought this back. You dropped it during your great escape.” Tony pulls out Steve’s mask, some of the feathers lightly crumpled from where he’s had it stashed inside his coat the whole way here.
Steve takes it from his hand with a laugh. “Let me go grab my jacket and I’ll take you to eat some of the best pizza you’ve ever had,” he promises. “Just, one second, be right back.”
It doesn’t take long for Steve to emerge once again, without the mask in tow but sporting a leather jacket. He’s also got a helmet tucked under one arm and Tony raises a single eyebrow in question.
“How do you feel about motorcycles?” Steve queries, as Tony takes the helmet extended his way. He pictures sitting close to Steve, holding tight and pressing against the length of him as they ride.
“I could get used to it.”
A warm hand cups his cheek and Tony leans into it instinctively, eyes fluttering closed for a brief second before opening to see Steve licking his lips. “I want- can I kiss you now?"
In lieu of answering Tony reaches out with his free hand and pulls him forward. It’s a sweet kiss, short and chaste, before Steve leans back enough to rest their foreheads together. Tony’s hand is still tangled in the other man’s hair when he says, “So, I heard something about the most amazing pizza in existence?”
Steve laughs, straightening up and hooking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his bike.
“Your carriage awaits.”
Yes, Tony thinks, he could definitely get used to this.