Chapter 1

“Are you Tony Stark? Oh my god you are! I’m your number one fan, I’ve been following your insta since you had less than 100,000 followers!”

Tony looked up from his phone to eye the woman bouncing up and down in front of him. She was late twenties, maybe a few years younger than he was, with long blonde hair and a face like a model. He looked her up and down appreciatively. Despite his annoyance with fans accosting him when he wanted to be left alone to get a coffee, this might be a conversation worth pursuing.

“A long time fan, then. Pleasure to meet you. You have a minute? Want to take a seat?”

She sat down at the table and leaned forward. “I own all your travel books, they’re amazing. The way you capture all the small details, and all the local traditions? It’s incredible. I just about died when you covered my very own home town of Brooklyn. Are you here to do a follow up?”

Tony was unaware that he had done a guide for Brooklyn. The situation around his travel books was...complicated.

It all started a few years ago when Tony made an Instagram. He had met a hot girl at a party, she had told him to follow her Instagram, saying anyone who was anyone had one these days. Tony was game, and so he downloaded the app and made an account. He followed the girl, and everyone else at the party, setting him up with thirty followers and thirty people to follow. His profile picture was him drunk as hell making a peace sign in the flashing lights of the private club. He forgot about it the next day, until the end of the week when he was in a taxi for the long drive to the airport and had nothing better to do. So, he pulled out his phone to see what exactly this Instagram things was. As he scrolled he got an interesting mix. Some people posted food, some parties, some pets, some traveling. Hey, he was traveling. As he stepped out of the taxi and onto the airstrip, he took a picture next to the jet and posted it on a whim, with no captions. He shut off his phone for take off, and settled in to do some paperwork. Pepper was going to be so happy with him for finishing up the contract for her.

When he got off the plane Pepper was not happy. She shook her phone at him. “I have received six calls from your public relations team because you are not picking up your phone.”

“It was on airplane mode, I was being responsible. What’s the big problem?”

“They need to know if you made an Instagram.”

Tony squinted at her. “How did they know? And why do they care?”

She batted him over the head with a folder. “Because you are the CEO and share the same name as the company! It’s their job to shut down any social media accounts pretending to be you, or defaming your name. You drag your name through the mud enough on your own, we don’t need people making things up too.”

“If it’s an account with one picture of me in front of the jet, then it’s me. And I’m keeping it.”

Pepper sighed in exasperation. “What are you going to do with an Instagram?” “I don’t know yet.”

“Just don’t post anything illegal or incriminating. Come on, I have a proposal for a new manufacturing location.” Pepper lead him inside, and the topic was dropped.

Tony kept posting pictures, partially because he thought it was funny that his publicist flipped out over every tiny thing (clearly he was joking about the cocaine), and partially because it was fun. He’d post pictures on his jet, of his hotel rooms, of local monuments. He had to travel for work so much that he was never out of new locations to take pictures of. Pepper quickly came around to the idea, happy that Tony was outside getting some fresh air and taking pictures rather than causing a ruckus at the hotel bar. She also used it as a way to make sure he actually made it on the flights he said he was going to catch.

Tony enjoyed taking pictures, and he liked all the comments he got. People would say “#Goals” and “Hot as hell” and other, more lewd things, and while he knew he was hot stuff, he liked getting the external validation. The mean comments were just as fun, Tony loved to verbally eviscerate people over the internet, and he got a reputation as a comeback king. His small group of 30 followers quickly grew to a couple hundred, then a couple hundred thousand. People started to recognize him, and his female fans were often happy to invite him back to their place for a night of fun. This instagram thing kept getting better and better. After he hit his first million his publicist finally stopped nagging him to stop, and flipped the opposite way, telling him to do more.

“More?” Tony had asked over the phone. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that a million followers is nothing to sneeze at. The official Stark Industries Instagram has about a hundred followers,and almost all of them employees. Right now you’re the face of the brand, and when you post it reminds people of us, and humanizes us. It’s the latest in social media marketing, except instead of hiring a group of influencers, you're the influencer.”

“I don’t know what you just said and don’t care.”

There was a deep sigh on the other end of the line. “Keep doing what you’re doing, and mention the company as much as you can in a positive light. And I’m signing your name to a book deal.”
Tony frowned at that. “I’m not writing a book.”

Write a new operating system in a week? Easy. Code an artificial intelligence? Sure. But a book? He had barely made it through high school English, there was no way he was going to write a whole book. He had better things to do.

“You’re not going to write it. It’s going to be a travel book, to fit with your account theme, and we’re going to hire locals for each piece, to give it an authentic flair. We’re going to have articles on the company mixed in too, it’s called native advertising and it’s all the rage these days. All you have to do is agree to put your name and picture on the cover.”

Tony was bored of this. “Whatever, I don’t care.” He hung up the call. He got the contract in the mail the next day, and glanced over it. He raised the portion of money the ghost writers were getting to 100% of the total profits. He didn’t need more money, and he’d feel dirty getting anything off other people’s writing. He signed the contract and mailed it.

Three months later he received his copy, Pepper putting it on his desk. He spun the book around to look at the cover. He didn’t remember taking the picture, it must have been from an older press shoot. He looked good, his teeth white and his face tan as he stood in front of a photoshopped beach. He shoved it in a drawer of his desk. He’d read it eventually. Right now Pepper had things for him to sign.

He never did get around to reading it, though he made a post about it for his Instagram. His publicist called him once a week to gush about how well it was doing, apparently giving the writers full royalties had resulted in some good stuff and the book was hanging around the bottom of a couple best seller lists. That meant he had to make a second one.

The second one went better than the first, and whenever Tony walked through the airport he’d catch glimpses of his face in front of a cozy mountain cabin staring back. They had photoshopped a hat on him and a snowy scene behind. It was sort of embarrassing, and he denied the publicist any more books. Two was already two more books than he had ever wanted to publish under his name.

And that was how he ended up as a bestselling author with millions of fans who didn’t know the contents of his own books.

Chapter 2

The hot fan he had met in the coffee shop ended up being named Christine, and he left the shop with her number and an agreement to get drinks that week at a bar that he had written about in his book.

Problem was, he had no idea what place she was talking about and had no way of asking without giving away the game. He didn’t think he was going to get an invitation back to her place if he admitted to only being the name on the cover and not much else.

So, option one: text her and cancel. He didn’t want to do that, she was hot as hell and had legs for days.
Option two: go to the nearest book store, buy a copy of his book, and read it. That was also a no. He hadn’t read a book that wasn’t an engineering textbook since he was in high school and he wasn’t going to start now.
That left option three, which was the option that made the most sense. He would call Pepper and harass her to go through his desk until she found the second book deal, find the name of the writer who did the Brooklyn articles, then Tony would give him a call and have him personally show him all the sights. Then he could meet up with Christine and wow her into bed. It was the perfect plan.

Pepper was not happy with him when he called, and he lied about why he needed the name and number. Pepper wouldn’t understand and he didn’t have time for a lecture. He scribbled it down on a napkin, thanked her, and dialed the new number.

“Steve Rogers, how may I help you?”

“Hey, you’re the guy who wrote the Brooklyn article for the Stark travel book?”

There was a pause on the other side of the line. “Though I am under contract not to discuss any ghostwritten pieces, I have a strong history of published work and could show you some writing samples if you’re looking for a discrete author.”

“So that’s a yes. Where do you live? I’m coming by to pick you up. I want an official tour of Brooklyn.”

“I don't give tours,” the man said with annoyance. “Look, this number is for serious business inquiries only. Who are you and how’d you get my number?”

“I’m Tony Stark.”

There was a loud snort on the other side of the line, and the phone hung up with a click.
Rude. Tony pulled out his phone and set Jarvis to sniffing out Steve’s address. In less than thirty seconds he was in a lyft and on his way.

Steve lived in a dull grey apartment complex on the non hipster side of the Brooklyn borough. The street smelled like sauerkraut and muddy water, and Tony stepped over garbage lying in the street with a grimace. How could a guy who lived here know where the good places were? This guy’s idea of fine dining was probably McDonalds.

The door to the complex was propped open, and Tony stepped inside. Inside it was dim and the air smelled moldy. He looked around for a concierge that didn't exist. The only other person in the hall was a man who looked like he had been dumpster diving, currently eating pizza with his dog.

“Hey, you know where Steve Rogers lives?”

The man squinted at him suspiciously from his spot on the floor. “Why?”

“I want to hire him.”

“Oh, that’s good. Last guy was here to collect a debt that Steve shouldn’t have had to pay, and me and Lucky took care of him.” The man patted a dirty purple bow that was half covered with duct tape. It was unclear if Lucky was the name of the dog or the bow. Tony didn’t want to find out.

The man tilted his head towards the staircase at the end of the hall. “Steve is the last apartment on the left side of the third floor.”

Tony thanked him and made his way upstairs to knock on Steve’s door. It opened, and they took a second to talk each other in.
Steve was a short man in his late twenties, pale hair and striking blue eyes, and his fingers were long and delicate where they were resting on the doorknob. Piano fingers, is what Tony’s mom would have said. There were smears of wet paint running up his arms and his apron was covered with the stuff. He was staring at Tony with wide eyes.

“You really are Tony Stark.”

“In the flesh!” Tony replied cheerfully. “May I come in?”

He was already shouldering his way past Steve, who was still too stunned to stop him. Tony looked around the place, noting the desk with the ancient computer, and the easel propped up by the only window. There was no separator between the kitchen and living room, and Steve don't appear to own a refrigerator. Whatever, he wasn’t here to judge the guy’s living situation.

“I need to give me a tour of all the spots you talked about in the book.”

Steve shut the door and leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. “Why? Just read the book.”

“I need to impress a girl with the spots from the book, and reading is boring.”

Steve’s face went red. “Reading is not boring. Books are the foundation of how humans have passed along knowledge for-”

Tony interrupted before he could get any more worked up. “I’ll give you a thousand bucks a day for the next week to show me the sights.”

That shut Steve up quick. Tony hadn’t originally been planning to pay him that much, but the poor guy was clearly on some hard times. Who the hell did not own a fridge?

“Deal!” Steve responded quickly, like he was afraid that if he hesitated then Tony would take it back. “When do we start?”

“Right now, if you’re not busy.”

Steve agreed and Tony leaned against the counter while Steve cleaned his paintbrushes and twisted the caps back onto his tubes of paint. He scrubbed furoious at the paint stains on his arms in the sink and they didn't come off, so Steve hid them under a jacket. He politely held the door open for Tony, who pushed himself off the counter and walked out, Steve locking up behind him.

“So you paint and write?” Tony asked. “You’re a jack of many trades.”

Steve shrugged and lead them down the stairs and out the front, waving at the man and his dog as they passed. “If I cared about writing I’d publish under my own name. Ghost writing puts food on the table while I wait for my career in painting to take off.”

“Sure. Sold any paintings yet?”

Steve scowled and kicked at a rock. “A couple.”

It was clearly a sensitive subject so Tony dropped it. “I’m sure you’ll get there. Now, where to first?”

Steve looked up at the muddy grey sky. “Looks like rain, so we’ll do something indoors. How about the Brooklyn Historical Society?”

“That sounds boring. I’m not going to take a girl to some stuffy museum. How about some places to eat? I could go for some dinner right now.”

Steve huffed. “Fine. It’s your tour.”

Steve brought him to the equivalent of a mall made up entirely of restaurants. Perfect smells wafted in from every direction. Tony looked around with his mouth open.
“I’m in heaven. I want to eat it all.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” Steve said with a laugh.

“I better try anyway, so I know the best place to take Christine to when we come back later. Let’s go!”

Tony grabbed Steve by the arm and dragged him to the first restaurant of many. Tony got at least one thing to go from each of the restaurants, collecting pancakes and pizza and fried pickles and cookies. He spread out his haul on an empty table and started to dig in, letting out a moan of pure bliss when he bit into the most perfect slices of pizza he had ever tasted. And he had been to Italy!

Steve watched him from the other side of the table, head resting on his hand and eyeing the food sadly.
Tony wiped his mouth off with a napkin. “What are you waiting for? Help yourself.”

“It’s for me too?”

“What, you thought I was going to make you watch me eat? I’m not that much of a douche. Dig in, there’s like twenty pounds of food here and there’s no reason it should go to waste.”

Steve pulled a plate of steak over and ate like he was starving. They spent the rest of the meal pushing plates back and forth, insisting that the other needed to try the new dish. Tony was full to bursting when they were done, and he leaned back happily in his chair. No wonder his book had sold well if it recommended food like this. He saw Steve eyeing the leftovers and offered to let him take them.

Steve shook his head. “Can’t, no fridge. But I’d like to give them to Clint.”

“Dog and bow man?”

“Yup. If you don’t mind me asking, why are you in town?”

“I’m doing contract negotiations for a consulting bid. Boring stuff, I’m going to be trapped in meetings tomorrow until 2. After that would you be up for some more tours?”

Steve agreed. He was free the whole day, one of the benefits of working freelance. Before they left, Tony asked for a picture for instagram.

“Sure, you want me to take it?” Steve said.

Tony shook his head. “No, I want you to be in it.”

He should have taken a picture of the food before they ate it all, it had been an impressive spread. Still, the occasion of enjoying such ambrosia needed to be recorded and he hadn’t posted anything yet today. He scooted around the table to be on the same side as Steve and took a picture of them in front of all the empty plates, Tony grinning wide and Steve slightly more hesitant beside him.

“Nice! Do you have an Instagram? I’ll tag you.”

“I guess, but all I post is my art.”

“Good enough.” Tony tagged him and posted it.

He put his phone away and parted ways with Steve to go back to his hotel. On his way back he passed a homegoods store and paused. He should buy Steve a fridge, that way he’d have a spot to put his leftovers. He went inside and picked out the biggest and nicest one they had, and paid to have it sent to Steve’s apartment. A voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like Pepper said that this was a bad idea. Why was this a bad idea? He thought it through. He went back and cancelled the order.

What had he been thinking? He had known Steve for maybe two hours, and was now buying him a fridge without asking. He needed to see things from Steve’s perspective. That meant picking a slightly smaller fridge so Steve would have space for it in his low ceiling apartment. He was being so reasonable, he was proud of himself. Should he tell Steve? No, it should be a surprise.

Chapter 3

Tony’s day started with meetings running from 8 to 2, with a short break in the middle so he could eat a soggy sandwich that was mostly bread and lettuce topped with an obnoxiously strong mustard that Tony bet was supposed to be artisan. He couldn’t wait to visit Steve and get some real food.

He arrived at Steve’s place at 3, and waved to Clint before trotting up the stairs. Steve was standing in the hallway, arguing with the delivery man who was trying to drop off the fridge.

“Oh hey, it’s here!”

Steve whirled on him, pointing at the brown cardbox like it was a dead bird Tony had dragged into the house out of a misplaced need for approval. “Did you do this?”

“Yeah, I got you a fridge. We’re going out for dinner again and you need space for leftovers.”

“You bought me a $900 refrigerator because you were concerned that i didn't get leftovers last time? That’s not a good enough reason!”

It cost a hell of a lot more than $900 but Tony knew this was one of those times he needed to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m rich and I felt like it, that’s all the reason I need. If you hang around me long enough these sorts of things happen. Why not take it? You need it and it’s not coming out of your pay.”

Steve was red with anger. “I don’t accept charity,” he insisted.

Tony sighed in frustration. Why was he being so stubborn about this? If this was like the time he bought Rhodey a sports car, he wasn't going to be able to change his mind. Whatever, if Steve didn’t want it he knew someone who would. He snapped his fingers at the delivery man. “You, follow me. I’m changing the address on my delivery.”

They went downstairs, Steve staying in his apartment until Tony came to his senses and got it resolved. Joke was on him, Tony hadn’t been sensible a day in his life. Tony went downstairs and walked up to Clint and put his hands on his hips. “Hey dude, you want a free fridge?”

Clint straightened up from where he had been slumped against the wall. “Holy shit, are you serious? Hell yeah!”

Now that was the correct reaction to getting a free fridge. Clint and Tony helped the delivery man unbox it, and they plugged it into the sole outlet in the lobby. The bright silver fridge seemed out of place against the dirty eggshell walls and flickering lights, like it was a monolith that had risen alien like from the ground to take over the world and also provide cold beverages.

“This is the 16th greatest day of my life,” Clint said with awe.

“That’s oddly specific. Enjoy your new fridge, if Steve asks, you found it in a dumpster.”

Clint agreed, barely listening as he ran his hands up and down the shiny silver finish, mumbling about how much left over pizza he was going to save now.

Tony went back upstairs and Steve let him into his apartment, still pissed.

“You can’t spring that sort of thing on me.”

Tony held his hands up. “Alright, alright. No more surprise fridges. Can we go eat now?”

“That’s not the only thing I wanted to talk about. Exactly how many Instagram followers do you have?”

What did that have to do with anything? He shrugged. “Millions? I don’t pay that close of attention.” He pulled out his phone and opened his account. “I have 134 million. Decent, eh?” “Decent???” Steve shrieked. “That’s more than Beyonce! How do you have more followers than Beyonce? She’s the most famous singer of our generation and you run a small technology company and spend your free time buying refrigerators for strangers.”

“I’m also a best selling author.”

“Of a book you didn’t write and haven't read!”

“If I’m more famous than Beyonce then I don’t have time for reading, now do I?” Tony said. “Why do you care?”

“Because last night after you tagged me, my account went from 6 followers to almost 50,000, and it’s growing every time I look. People have been asking to commision my paintings.”

“Ok?”
Tony didn’t get why this was a bad thing. Steve couldn’t seem to articulate why this was a bad thing either.

“If it makes you feel better, they’re not all real people.” Tony added. “Some are bots. I don’t have the heart to block them, they’re doing their best at what they were programmed to do... Which is spamming my DMs with links to sketchy porn websites, unfortunately. Anyways, lunch? Or dunch? That’s a mix between dinner and lunch, because its 3 in the afternoon and I’m starving.”

Steve looked at him like he was crazy. “I… ok. Lunch. We can go to Brooklyn Bridge Park and walk around and get hot dogs.”

Tony agreed and they went downstairs, where Clint was perched on top of his new fridge like a bird. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose like a headache was coming on.

“I found it in the dumpster!” Clint announced loudly, and the dog barked in agreement. Tony put an arm around Steve and hustled him out of the lobby.

At the park, Steve started to relax. The place seemed to hold a lot of happy memories for him. Tony got a hot dog, and followed Steve around as he pointed things out. The view of the water and the bridge was amazing. There was a carousel and after noticing Steve gaze at it with a dreamy expression, Tony insisted on taking a ride. Steve snapped back to reality and crossed his arms.

“We’re adults. People would stare.”

“So? Why do we care what a bunch of strangers think?”

“You’re the one who’s famous, what if someone gets a picture of you looking stupid on a metal horse?”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve been caught doing. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Tony paid for their tickets, and got on to pace around to find the best animal. “Which is your favorite?”

Steve walked around the loop, looking for something specific. He gently ran his hand over the head of an eagle. “This is the one I’d ride when I was little. When the carousel started, it felt like I was flying.” He pointed out a white wolf a couple animals ahead. “That’s the one Bucky would pick, he always wanted to pretend he was racing off ahead of me.”

A whistle blew, a warning that the ride was about to begin. Tony climbed on top of the animal next to the eagle, a study war horse with short cropped hair and heavy armor. The ride begins with a lurch, and Tony held on tightly to the metal pole.

He had never ridden one of these things before, though he had seen them in movies and wondered what it would be like. His parents weren’t the type to treat him to a day out at the park.

It was fun, between the lights and the motion and the music. There was a kid absolutely losing his mind in enjoyment a few animals ahead and it was adding to the overall experience. As the ride ground to a halt, Tony snapped a picture of himself on the horse, Steve on his eagle in the background.

“You really going to post that?” Steve asked. “I was joking about a picture looking stupid on a metal horse.”

“Why not? I looked extra stupid just for you. But if you don’t want to be in it, I’ll delete it.”

“You can post it. I’m just surprised. It's dark and blurry, and riding a carousel isn’t cool. Don’t you have an image to maintain?”

He posted it and hopped off the ride, offering Steve a hand down. “My image is that I’m a dumbass. The world is already aware. Let’s go get some snacks.”

They went and got caramel corn and sat down on a bench to watch the water. The waves lapped in and out, and in the background they could still hear the carousel playing cheerful music. The sun had started to set and the air cooled to a pleasant temperature. Tony couldn't remember the last time he felt so content.

Tony offered Steve some caramel corn. “So, who’s Bucky?”

Steve took a handful. “He’s my best friend. He’s over seas right now. I’m hoping he gets to come home for Christmas, but it’s not looking likely.”

Christmas? Tony mentally did the math. Today was what, December 16th? Christmas was a little over a week away. He had lost track of time, he needed to start looking for gifts.

“My friend Rhodey is overseas now too. He’ll be back on the 24th, then be gone again by the 3rd. It sucks.”

Steve glared at the ground. “I wanted to be there with him. I tried to join the army and they wouldn’t take me.”

Tony tossed a piece of popcorn at Steve who grabbed it out of the air. “With reflexes like those? Their loss. And my gain. Where to next, Mr. Tour Guide?”

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “I think that’s the nicest response I’ve ever gotten. Usually people try to convince me it was for the best since I’m sick all the time.” Steve lead them out of the park and into the busier part of the city. “You run a technology company, right? I think you’ll like this next place.”

After a train ride and a brisk walk, Steve lead them under a high ceiling stone tunnel filled with tables. He held out his arms dramatically. “Welcome to the Brooklyn Flea.”

Tony glanced around curiously. “A flea market? You teasing me about slumming it or something?”

Steve punched him in the arm. “I’m your official guide, I wouldn’t lead you astray. Come on, look what they have over here.”

He grabbed Tony by the arm and dragged him over to a small folding table that was overflowing with machine parts, everything from old computers to carburetors to gameboys to blenders. Tony started to look through it, the possibilities flashed through his mind. He could make Steve a fridge maybe? Or he could make Rhodey a waffle iron that made them in the shape of the air force logo. Could he build a machine for home drycleaning for Pepper?

None of the ideas felt right. Why did all his friends have to be so disgustingly practical? They wouldn’t take anything that wouldn’t be useful. He wasn’t in the mood to make anything useful, he had already spent eight hours a day at work doing that.

His eyes fell on a little toy robot dog. He had always wanted a dog, but he hadn’t been allowed when he was younger and now he traveled too much to take care of one. What if he built himself a pet?

He started gathering up the parts he needed, the robot dog, the engine of an rc car, a computer, and on a whim he took the hand from a mechanical claw game. Soon his arms were overflowing and Steve had to tell him to slow down.

“We’re only at the first table!”

“You mean there’s more?”

Steve gestured at the rows of tables, and dragged him around the corner to reveal a second area as big as the first.

Tony looked around with wide eyes. So many things to build! So many things to fix!

“We might be here a while,” he said sheepishly.

“I know the feeling when the muse grabs you and demands you listen. Go do your thing.”

Steve took what Tony already picked out and Tony bounced off to find more cool things. He felt like a kid in a candy store. He picked out more electronics to build out the pet’s body, and he found some lightweight aluminum bars he could use to build an arm to attach the claw to. He pretended to swing the bar like a bat as Steve tossed him an imaginary softball.
“Oh, what a shame, straight into the catcher’s mitt.”

Tony scoffed. “That was a home run worthy swing. Get a real ball, and I’ll prove it.”

Steve rolled his eyes and glanced around for something they could hit, settling on a crumpled up ball of paper. He tossed it underhand to Tony whose swing missed by a mile.

“What did I say?” Steve smirked. Tony frowned down at the paper ball and Steve took pity on him. “Your feet are all wrong, that’s your problem.”

Steve walked behind him to nudge his feet further apart, and put a hand on his hip to shift Tony’s weight to his back foot. Steve’s hand was warm and rested on his hip for longer than most men would be comfortable holding another man for. Maybe Tony wasn’t the only who who batted for both teams, if you wanted to get into baseball metaphors.

Steve pulled back with an awkward cough. “Try it again, and keep your eyes on the ball.”

Right, eyes on the ball. Steve walked back to his original spot and Tony dragged his gaze up from Steve’s ass to focus on the paper ball. Now that he was thinking about it, Steve wasn’t a bad looking guy. If Tony had to write the color of his eyes out in code he’d use rgba(0,0,255,1), and that was a compliment. It was rare to find blues that vibrant and pure in real life.

Steve also had the same rigid moral compass as Rhodey and Pepper, which was another factor in his favor. Tony enjoyed being around those types of people, he knew he had an overwhelming personality and he liked knowing that they were going to call him out if he went too far. Being around his friends, and now Steve too, made him feel more stable.

The icing on the cake was Steve encouraging his tinkering. Even Pepper got mad at him for that.

Too bad they had a business relationship, Tony had a rule against sleeping with employees. Well, it was HR’s rule, but he was happy to follow it.

Steve tossed the ball to him and Tony managed to knock it high enough that he had to jump to catch it.

“There you go! That would get you to first base no problem.”

Tony’s mind immediately went into the gutter. It took a huge force of will to keep himself from asking Steve if he would let Tony get to second base. Stupid baseball metaphors. He cleared his throat. “I think that’s as good as I’m going to get when it comes to baseball.”

Steve tossed the paper ball in the trash and they continued their shopping trip.

“You never played baseball as a kid?” Steve asked.

Tony shook his head. “Nah, I spent my recesses inside studying. My dad was a big believer in brain over brawn.”

“I usually stayed inside too, my asthma was much worse when I was younger. That was when I started getting into drawing.”

As he said that, they passed a nice looking set of charcoals and Tony was tempted. After the refrigerator fisco he had held himself back from buying things for Steve. So far he seemed willing to accept food and that was it, insisting that he didn’t need charity. Maybe he would accept a christmas gift? When it got closer to the 25th he would have to try.

After an exciting few hours, Tony ended up with several cardboard boxes filled with old electronics. They went back to the hotel to drop it all off, and Steve lead him to the next restaurant mentioned in the book.

“I noticed you liked the pizza last time, so we’re going to get more tonight. This place is called Archie’s, and they have the best deep dish.”

Tony was onboard with that, and they got slices from several styles of pizza, making sure to get enough for Clint and his new fridge too. Tony paused in front of a shelf filled with hot sauces, and picked up a bright orange bottle.

“Habanero? I bet that’s spicy. Steve, how much would you bet me to put this all over my pizza?”

“Nothing, because I want you to enjoy the pizza rather than spending your whole night crying in regret.”

“I never have regrets.” Tony laughed, and he tilted his head back to squirt the hot sauce sauce directly on his tongue. Immediately his mouth caught on fire and his eyes filled with tears. “Shit.”

“Jesus Tony, why’d you do that? Sit down, I’m going to go get you some milk.”

Tony coughed and pounded his chest a few times. He was alright, he had a pretty high spice tolerance. Steve came back with a cup of milk and Tony took a few swallows. “That was fun! Did you see that they had one with ghost chilies? I want to try that one next. I’ve heard they’re so spicy people have died from eating them.”

Steve stepped between Tony and the shelf of hot sauce, a panicked look on his face. “No! You are not trying any more hot sauce!”

“I’ll have more of this one then,” Tony said, already dumping more of the haberno sauce straight into his mouth. “It burns so delicious,” he said, tearing up. “It’s worth it.”

Steve sighed and held Tony’s face to wipe the tears away. “You’re a moron.”

“That’s why you like me.”

“That’s not the only reason,” Steve said, the words coming out more heartfelt than either of them were ready for.

After that Steve blocked him from trying any more hot sauce, but they still had an amazing night. They talked and laughed together for over an hour, and when Steve reached across the table to rest his hand on top of Tony's, he didn’t pull away. Friends could hold hands, right? And friends could tell each other they looked very handsome tonight, and friends could stare into each others eyes across the table, the whole world narrowing down to just the two of them, as Steve leaned forward and-

Tony jerked backward, pulling his hand away and clearing his throat. “I better get going.”

Steve blinked a few times and leaned back in his chair, clearly disappointed. “Yeah. Alright. It’s getting late.”

“I agreed to meet Christine tonight at 9 at a bar from the book.”

“Christine. Sure.” Steve took a deep breath. “The bar I wrote about is called Jacks, it's about ten minutes from here. I’ll walk you.”
Steve put his coat on and shoved his hands in his pockets. They walked outside, where it had started to snow lightly. Steve kept his head down. “She must be a special lady.”

Tony didn’t respond. She wasn’t special, that was the problem. She was a hot fan, a pleasant distraction from his week of meetings. At the end of the week he was coming to go back to California, and never see her again. He didn’t know anything about her besides her first name and her number. Steve was the one who was special. Steve was the one who made him laugh and made him feel more carefree than he had for years. Steve was the one who was showing him the hidden wonders of the city, and letting him try things he had always wanted to do and been denied as a kid. Steve was the one he wanted to go home with tonight. Fuck.

When the reached the right street Steve pointed out the direction Tony needed to go, and left to catch a train home. Instead of going into the bar, Tony ducked into an alleyway and called Pepper.

“Pepper, how flexible are the rules around dating another SI employee?”

“Not at all flexible. Don’t do it.”

He banged his head against the wall. “Fuck. What if-”

“No.”

“You didn’t hear the situation,” he said with exasperation.

“Because the answer is no. Having a fling is not going to be worth the amount of drama and trouble it’s going to produce.”

Tony hesitated. “What if it’s not a fling?”

Pepper immediately shifted from annoyed PA to interested friend. “Who did you meet? Man or woman? What’s their job?”

“You remember the ghost writer I had you look up? It’s him. I’m paying him to give me a tour of Brooklyn and things happened.”

“Is this the guy you’ve been tagging on Instagram? The whole world is already convinced you’re dating.”

“Oh god, Steve is going to kill me.”

“Well the good news is that if you survive, it wouldn’t be against company policy to ask him out. He’s a contractor whose contract ended. Quit paying for tours, and you’re in the clear.”

“Thanks Pep.” Tony hung up, and texted Christine to let her down gently. He promised that if they ran into each other again he’d sign her book. With that taken care of, he needed to figure out what to do to win Steve over.

Tony knocked on Steve’s door the next day around 5. Steve opened it, and crossed his arms. “I didn’t think we were still doing this.”

“I need one last spot. Where would you go if you needed to impress someone really special and you only had one chance to avoid ruining everything?”

Steve scrubbed a hand up and down his face. “Tony-”

“It’s ok, I already know the place. Come on, it’s my turn to play tour guide.”

Tony dragged him out of the apartment complex still protesting, and down the street to a little hol in the wall Irish joint. Steve looked at him in confusion.

“Who told you about this place? I didn’t put it in the book. It’s my favorite spot, and I didn’t want to have to fight a bunch of tourists any time I wanted a good lunch.”

“I found a new source on Brooklyn.” Tony gestured at the man who was standing in line next to Clint at the restaurant. Steve grabbed his arm.

“Is that…”

“Stark Industries still has a few old ties to the military, and my friend Rhodey has some pull too… He’s back the whole week.”

Steve ran into the restaurant where Bucky pulled him into a hug.

He came back out and hugged Tony next. “This means a lot, thank you.”

“I thought you might appreciate this more than another fridge.”

Steve laughed. “You guessed right.” The smile dropped from his face. “I’m sorry I acted like that last night, you’ve been upfront with me from the start about this being about Christine. I shouldn’t have tried for more.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“What?”

“I didn’t meet up with Christine last night.” He grabbed Steve’s hand and tugged him closer, looking at him from lowered lashes. “And if you’ll give me a second chance, I’ll take that kiss now.”

Steve pulled him down and pressed their lips together as snow fell from the sky in a scene straight out of a story book. Tony had a feeling that it was going to be a very Merry Christmas for the both of them.

The End