Chapter Text
“Oh look, St. Matthew’s is having a bingo night,” said Bucky, nodding in the direction of the first sign that came into view as he, Steve and Sam walked out of the subway exit and into the chilly autumn air. “Why don’t we do that instead?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “While I will never stand in the way of your ambition to become a ninety-year-old man in a twenty-seven-year-old body, you’d still owe me a paint-and-pour, Bucky. You need to learn what happens when you bet against your boyfriend at beer pong.”
“I was cheated,” Bucky protested. “Natasha only ever loses at beer pong on purpose, and I didn’t count on her sadism beating her pride.”
“Nothing beats Natasha’s sadism, Buck,” said Steve. “You really think I’d be going to another one of these things if she didn’t make it a condition for covering my shift?”
“At least you can paint, ya punk. And the last time we went was your idea, remember?”
“Painting turned out to be a lot less fun surrounded by married women in their fifties ogling my pecs,” said Steve with a grimace.
“They’re nice pecs, Steve,” said Natasha.
Steve and Bucky were both more than used to Natasha’s ability to just show up among them like she’d always been there, but Sam must’ve jumped ten feet in the air.
“Somebody should put a bell around your neck,” said Sam.
“Clint tried that once. Ask him how it went,” said Natasha.
They turned the corner and the art store hosting the paint-and-pour came into view: a shabby little place called “If It Paint Broke,” right next to a dry-cleaner and a bodega with a fat grey cat snoozing in the window. At least we’re supporting a small business, Steve thought dully, and he steeled himself for a night of casual inquiries on his interest in being the unicorn of a married threesome.
“We don’t have to do this, Sam,” Bucky pleaded, “Lesson learned, I am a changed man. I am never betting or drinking again.”
“If you never drink again, you’ll have to paint sober tonight,” Steve reminded him.
“I am never drinking tequila again,” Bucky amended.
“I give it till Barton’s next mojito night,” said Natasha.
“What are you doing here, Nat?” said Bucky. “You hated paint-and-pour as much as me and Stevie did.”
“Am I the only one who wants to be here tonight?” asked Sam as they walked inside the store. “Why didn’t we invite Joaquín?”
“Joaquín got roped into hitting the town with Odinson and his Nordic drinking buddies, which means he’s probably plastered, arrested, and in an orgy by now,” said Natasha, (none of them questioned the ‘and’ in that sentence). “As for me, I’m not gonna pass up an opportunity to watch Steve warding off horny wine-moms with a more and more elaborate ‘busy schedule.’ Speaking of which, you never told me how base-jumping with Jason Statham went, Steve.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Sam sputtered.
“Oh didn’t you hear, Nat? He cancelled to go scuba diving with Bono,” said Bucky with a wry smile.
“Wow,” said Sam, “You really can’t lie on the spot, can you Steve?”
“He gets worse the more he drinks,” said Natasha.
“Bono flaked on me, so I played mini-golf with Tony Stark instead,” said Steve, leaning his elbow against the sales counter.
“Pretty sure I’d remember going eighteen rounds with you, hot stuff,” said a voice to their right.
Steve turned his head and very nearly face-planted as his elbow slid off the counter in shock. If it were just anyone Steve was seeing, his heart would be pounding out of his chest at the absolutely gorgeous brunette checking him out with big, buttery brown eyes. As it was, his heart had stopped completely because he was looking at Tony goddamn Stark, billionaire-inventor-philanthropist and Steve’s consistent “marry” in fuck-marry-kill.
Bucky and Sam howled with laughter. Even Natasha had her hand over her mouth as if to hide a chuckle, her eyes sparkling with repressed mirth. It was enough to make the people standing next to Tony, a tall woman with strawberry blonde hair and a general air of competence, and a tired-looking guy in a green polo shirt with standard military-issued reading glasses hanging from the breast pocket, all start laughing with them.
“The odds,” Bucky gasped, clinging to Sam for support. “You finally meet him and it’s like this, what are the odds? ”
“Finally ?” said Tony, raising an eyebrow. “Pepper, have you been giving Mr. Pec-tacular here the runaround? How dare you, you’re fired, go work for Bezos or something.”
“Not for all the shoes on fifth avenue,” she intoned before stepping forward. “Hi, I’m Pepper, Mr. Stark’s PA. If you’re here for the paint-and-pour, I’m afraid it’s been cancelled for a private event.”
“Yes!” said Bucky triumphantly, “Wait, hang on.”
Bucky took a second to shape the fingers on his prosthetic into a fist
“Yes!” said Bucky again, punching the air with his prosthetic. “Eat shit, Sam, we’re goin’ to Denny’s.”
“Is he eating shit, or is he eating Denny’s?” asked polo-shirt with a furrowed brow.
“Both, if those are the only options,” said Sam. “C’mon, babe, we live in New York City. If we’re going to a diner, it’s gonna be one that gives us free coleslaw and pickles.”
“When Dum-dum and Morita go work in a mom-and-pop diner, we’ll go there,” said Bucky perfunctorily. “For now, I’ll take free bottomless bacon-tots instead.”
“One second, guys,” said Natasha, as she stepped forward and shook Pepper’s hand. “Hi. I’m Natasha. The ones bickering over bacon-tots are Sam and Bucky—yes that’s really what he likes to be called, don’t ask—and the brick house with his jaw on the floor is Steve. He’s usually more articulate than this, but his brain should be finished rebooting any second now.”
“Uh, yeah,” said Steve, closing his mouth. “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t— Hi.”
“Steve, huh?” said Tony, giving him a once-over that made Steve feel hot all over. Then he walked forward and stuck out his hand. “Tony Stark. I’m sorry to inform you that your mini-golf partner was a devilishly handsome imposter.”
Steve shook Tony’s hand and suppressed a shiver at the tingle of electricity he felt when their palms connected. Get it together, Rogers, Steve admonished himself, before he replied, “Nah, when you didn’t show, I called up Beyoncé and we went to a monster truck rally instead.”
Tony barked out a laugh and it wasn’t the practiced one Steve had heard on The Tonight Show or the polite one he’d given when that asshole hosting the Oscars slut-shamed him in a joke. It was warm and mischievous and Steve felt it blooming in his chest like a flower he never even knew was there before. Get it more together than that, Rogers, Steve admonished himself again.
“You got a last name, Steve, or do you only share that with celebrities in your a capella group?” Tony flirted.
Fuck it, I haven’t had it together for thirty years, why start now? Steve thought before he replied, “Rogers. And it’s my number I make’em work for.”
“Challenge accepted, Mr. Steve Rogers,” Tony practically purred, and the heat of it made Steve’s breath catch.
“Excuse me, Mr. Stark,” said a woman in a pink hand-knit sweater whom Steve hadn’t even noticed behind the sales counter. “Gina’s ready for you and your party now. And for the rest of you, we’re sorry you didn’t get the email in time. You should have your refunds by Monday morning.”
“Thank you,” said polo-shirt pointedly. “Nice meeting you all. I’m James Rhodes, if you care. Now, Tony, can we get to my birthday outing, please? ”
“Rhodey-bear, we couldn’t possibly turn our new friends here out into the harsh, mean streets of Flatbush Avenue,” Tony pouted.
“Oh no, nuh-uh, you are not turning my birthday into a date,” said Rhodey firmly.
“Is it really a date if all of us come?” said Sam before giving Steve a wink, and Steve had never been more grateful to know the bastard in his whole life.
“Denny’s, Samuel,” Bucky muttered irritably under his breath.
“Steve, James,” Sam muttered back.
Bucky shot Steve a glare that telegraphed, “You’re lucky I’d die for you, you son of a bitch, because this is worse,” and he managed to bite out, “That’s right. This isn’t a date night, it’s friends night. We just wanna paint.”
“I don’t care what his wingmen say, Tony. You and I both know why you’re doing this, and you swore after last time that you’d never spend my birthday trying to get in anyone’s pants ever again,” said Rhodey sternly.
“Then I’m afraid you leave me no choice,” said Tony solemnly.
“Oh no you don’t,” Rhodey said with a note of panic in his voice. “No! That’s— we agreed that’s playing dirty! ”
Tony’s already big, buttery-brown eyes had grown into doleful, heart-melting puppy-dog eyes. If Tony had asked Steve to jump off the Brooklyn bridge while making that face, he’d be halfway there on the D train by now.
“Stop that right now, the answer is no! ” said Rhodey, but it sounded like his resolve was failing him.
“Hey, it’s your birthday, right?” said Natasha. “Tell you what: you let us paint with you tonight, and as a present, I’ll owe you a favor.”
Steve, Sam and Bucky all whipped their heads around to stare at Natasha in shock.
“Holy shit,” said Bucky breathlessly, “Dude, I know you don’t know us but trust me, take the deal. ”
“You’re right, I don’t know you,” said Rhodey, but his interest was clearly piqued at the recent turn of events.
“You’re military, right?” said Steve. “Remember that thing a couple of years ago with General Murphy and the American flag—”
“And the whipped cream? ” said Tony and Pepper together, now both openly staring at Natasha as well.
“That was you ?” said Rhodey incredulously.
Natasha examined her nails and she replied, “When you’ve got a friend close to being dishonorably discharged because he decked Murphy Jr. for being a nazi, and a sister who works at a coffee shop with a lot of cream about to go bad, sometimes strange coincidences happen.”
There was quiet for a moment, and then Pepper turned and said, “Rhodey, they’re coming. I am not passing up the chance to get this woman’s contact information in my phone.”
“Buy me dinner first, babe,” said Natasha with a wink that made Pepper go scarlet.
Rhodey gave one last defeated look at Tony, then threw his hands up over his head.
“Fine,” Rhodey grumbled. “But don’t you dare try to sneak out early to have sex with anyone in the back of my car.”
“That was two times,” Tony scoffed. Then he turned to Natasha and said, “I’ve got to ask, which one do I have to thank for punching discount Hitler?”
“Don’t look at me, I didn’t know these clowns back then,” said Sam.
“He’d’ve been a lot worse than decked if it were me,” growled Bucky.
In lieu of answering, Steve shuffled his feet innocently and put on his best Who ME, mister? face. Tony gawped at him for a moment, then took a breath as if to calm himself down, and said, “Steve Rogers, I will get your number if I have to mini-golf my way through the eastern seaboard to do it.”
“Eye-fucking counts as dating!” Rhodey called over his shoulder from where he was striding purposefully down the hallway toward the event room. Bucky, Sam and Natasha weren’t far behind, and as Nat passed Steve she whispered, “Pay us back by getting laid, Rogers.” Sam underscored the point by gently nudging Steve in Tony’s direction before putting his arm around a somehow-grumpier-than-usual Bucky’s waist.
“Some wing-men you’ve got there, Steve,” said Tony as they both fell in behind them.
“Is it ‘wing-men’ when one’s a woman and there’s three of them?” Steve asked.
“You can have three wings on a house,” Tony offered.
Steve chuckled and replied, “Pretty sure I’d have to trade in my gay card if I besmirched Top Gun with the ‘wings-on-a-house’ interpretation of the phrase.”
“Wow, the bisexual bylaws are much more forgiving than that. You’re only kicked out for good if you don’t like The Mummy. ”
Unfortunately, sometime around “Bisexual Bylaws” Steve’s brain finished its reboot and fully registered that he was flirting with Tony Stark at a paint-and-pour, holy shit. His anxiety immediately kicked into such high gear that all he could offer was a nervous laugh in reply.
“You ok there, Steve?” asked Tony, and the thread of worry in his voice was enough to snap Steve out of his spiral.
“Sorry,” said Steve, shaking his head. “It’s just… you don’t meet the inventor of the arc reactor every day, y’know?”
The worry on Tony’s face turned to something incredibly soft and almost vulnerable. “That’s not usually the first thing people associate with me, y’know,” he said quietly.
“Well, I’m not people,” said Steve, a little edge of stubbornness in his words.
“No, you’re not, are you?” said Tony as they came to a stop in front of the event room door. Then he cleared his throat, took out his phone and said, “I’m sorry, I’ve got to make a phone call real quick. Go tell everyone they can start painting, I’ll be with’em in a sec. Um…”
Tony made an abortive reach toward Steve which he played off poorly as running his hand through his hair, then added, “Don’t… don’t go anywhere, ok?”
“I’m right where I want to be tonight, Tony,” said Steve, and he’d never meant anything more sincerely in his life.