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There’s a new tailor in town and Tony’s heard nothing but good things. Even Rhodey has given the guy his hard-won approval when he comes to the next military fundraiser dressed to the nines in expensive fabric.
That seals it. Tony has Pepper get him the next available appointment and she sounds amused when she relays that the tailor has refused Tony’s request to have the fitting done at the Tower.
“He prefers his professional setting,” Pepper says, and Tony can hear the smile in her voice as he cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear. He’s covered in grease, his hands buried in the wires of the Mark 42. “Though, he was quite agreeable to blocking out your appointment. So you won’t have to deal with other clients. Are you sure you want to do this? Monsieur Moreau will be devastated if he finds out you went somewhere other than La Rukico.”
Tony snorts. “He won’t even know. I’m not going for a wardrobe, Pep. I’m just going to get a... What do you call it?”
“Statement piece?” Pepper asks and now she’s chuckling at him. “Tony, I think it’s a good idea. Mr. Rogers made me that Charmeuse dress for the spring gala.”
Tony is quiet for a moment, searching his memory. It sparks and he groans appreciatively. “That silky, short silver piece?”
“It wasn’t that short, Tony,” Pepper admonishes, but there’s warmth in her tone and Tony knows he’s pleased her by remembering.
“Yeah, that was some dress,” Tony murmurs then shakes himself out of the memory. “Oh, yeah. I’m definitely going. You and Rhodey have gone. It’s about time I meet who’s been putting his hands all over my friends.”
Pepper laughs. “Tony, promise me you’ll behave. This man is expensive and I like him, so don’t waste his time.”
“I’m wounded.” Tony grins. “I’ll be the perfect client.”
“Behave,” Pepper stresses and gives him a fond goodbye before they hang up.
One week later, Tony parks his car right in front of the unassuming shop. He’s not afraid of any parking tickets, his car is too well known. He steps around the front of it and looks up at the simple, elegant sign ‘Break the Mold’. The window dressings are certainly geared towards being original and making bold choices.
Tony sucked his teeth then strode up to the door. A bell -and Tony has to blink up at it for a few seconds- tinkles as he enters the shop.
“One moment!” comes as an abrupt shout from the back and Tony’s not impressed yet, but at least he can admit the shop is clean and orderly. The samples of clothes and examples of suit pieces are all displayed wonderfully on the left side of the store. On the right, all the rich fabrics and different dress styles make Tony want to reach out and rub the materials.
He keeps his hands to himself, shoving them into his pockets and rocking forward into an aimless path through the store. He’s crouched down to examine a roll of blue acetate fabric. It’s such a clear azure that Tony immediately thinks of calm skies and flying. He wants it.
“Hey, man,” drags him from his perusal and Tony looks up to a half-smiling, half-exasperated expression. “Sorry about that. Inventory issues. I’m Sam Wilson. And everyone knows who you are, so we don’t have to waste time with that.”
“Not a problem, Sam. Can I call you Sam? Or do we need to keep this strictly professional?” Tony smiles and shakes Sam’s hand.
“Sam is just fine, but fair’s fair, so you’re Tony while you’re in here,” Sam says then crooks a finger. “I’ll show you back this way. Steve’s the head honcho. He owns the shop and he’ll be taking care of you today.”
“I’m quivering in anticipation,” Tony says absently, mostly true actually. He’s been dying to see this ‘miracle tailor’ in action. “Do you tailor, Sam?”
“Not full pieces like Steve does, I don’t have the patience. I’m mostly here for the alterations and finishing touches.” Sam stops at a counter that’s midway back in the shop. It has an updated P.O.S. system from Stark Industries and Tony smiles a little when he sees it.
“I see you’re in good hands,” Tony remarks, leaning against the counter.
“And you’re about to be,” Sam smirks back and calls over his shoulder. “Steve, your two o’clock is here!”
Two men come into the shop from behind a set of curtains off to the side. They’re both tall, strapping guys, but Tony hones in only on one. The guy on the right is wearing a tank top and toweling at his face and neck.
“Oh my god!” He shouts, forgetting to be any sort of contained. “You have one?! Were you in the testers program? That’s a shit question, of course you were. Look at my baby, all grown up and attached to someone’s body already. Ah, the childhood just flies by, doesn’t it?”
All three men are staring at Tony, but the one in question finally shakes himself out of it and glances at his left arm.
“Yeah, um... Insurance put me through the trial when your company issued the release,” he says, flexing the gleaming, metal appendage.
Tony pockets his sunglasses finally and steps right into the man’s space. “Look at her. She’s so gorgeous.”
The man beside them is snickering. “I told you it was a she, Buck.”
Buck flushes and tries not to grimace as Tony forgets his manners and practically feels up the prosthetic.
“Mr. Stark, the man you’re currently treating to almost second base is Bucky Barnes. He runs the numbers and handles the inventory. Do you, um, mind if we let him get back to that?”
Tony drags his eyes away from the prosthetic up to Bucky’s bemused face. “I am so sorry,” he says immediately. “Oh god. That’s... I’ve just not seen one in action yet. How embarrassing, right? Anyway, I’m sorry. Please don’t tell Pepper.”
Bucky waves him off. “It’s fine. We can talk later if you want after your fitting.” He rests his towel over to his shoulder and steps over to Sam who’s scribbling on a pad.
Tony watches for a moment and hears “Let me borrow your pen, Sam.”
“I don’t have one,” is the response and the two start a little glaring-scuffle that has the other man clearing his throat beside Tony. Tony shakes himself and turns his attention to the other man.
And wow. How had Tony been able to notice anything else? He blinks up at him and feels his mouth stretch into a mega-watt smile. “Steve, I presume. Head honcho and tailor extraordinaire?”
“Just Steve is fine, Mr. Stark,” Steve smiles, amused, and that’s good for Tony, that Steve doesn’t think he’s irritating already. “Miss Potts said you were interested in a full suit?”
“Yes, definitely. I’ve seen what you can do and I have to say I’m jealous that you worked on my friends and they waited so long to tell me,” Tony says, following Steve as he leads them back to the fitting stations. One is opened and ready for them. It’s spacious and comfortable with a steady, foundation for Tony to step onto when he’s ready. There’s a plush chair in the corner and the decor is simple and tasteful.
Tony walks further into the room and shrugs out of his blazer, handing it off to Steve before leaning over a side table to look at some sketches.
“Yours?” Tony asks and Steve makes an agreeable sound.
“For a client. They want the works. It’s a daunting prospect, but I like the challenge.”
“They’re good,” Tony murmurs, carefully turning a page to look at the next image. “I just need one suit for now, though, don’t worry.”
“For now,” Steve repeats with a knowing smile. “Come, up on the pedestal, please.”
“Ah, my proper place.”
Steve snorts and Tony grins at him.
For the next few minutes, Steve circles Tony and asks questions about style and tastes, cuts that he likes, cuts that he doesn’t.
Then, the torture begins.
Tony is a notorious flirt. Everyone knows it. What every doesn’t know, he’s also extremely shy in certain situations. And this is one of them. He’s full-on blushing by the time Steve is kneeling at his feet to measure his inseam.
Add the fact that he’s down to his shorts and undershirt and Tony’s sure this is a punishment for skipping out on that meeting yesterday.
Steve’s hand is warm on his calf and he’s looking up at Tony through his lashes. His mouth is curved in amusement and Tony flushes.
“It’s totally normal,” Steve says and Tony chokes on air and feels his face flame.
“You’re such a bad liar,” Tony accuses, hiding his face in his hands. He laughs because there’s nothing else he can do and Steve squeezes his calf.
“You’re right. But it’s not the first time I’ve had a client react,” Steve replies easily. Tony peeks from between his fingers as Steve stands to measure his waist.
Again.
With just his fingers.
“Would you mind terribly,” Steve begins, searching Tony’s face. They’re on level simply from Tony being on the stool. “If I took you to dinner?”
“Doesn’t dinner come before you getting into my pants?” Tony asks, trying to find his wit and charm. Its effect is muted from behind his palms, but he finally drops his hands, letting them fidget between their bodies.
“Just imagine what dessert will be like.” Steve’s smile is addictive and sweet. Tony stares at him and notes his eyes are the color of the fabric he’d liked so much.
“Yeah, um. Totally...down for that. Dinner is great, I love dinner.” He puts his hands back on his face and takes a steadying breath, tries not to sound so pathetically eager. “Mr. Rogers, I’ve changed my mind on my suit style.”
“Oh really?” Steve is grinning now and Tony can’t help but match it.
“Really. I have a very important dinner date on Friday and I need a suit that will drive my date wild,” Tony states, settling his hands on his hips.
“Ah, I think I can manage that for you. Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”
“For now, Mr. Rogers. For now.”