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“What’s the deal with that guy?” Tony asked.
“Who?” Natasha put down her magazine to see who Tony was talking about.
Tony pointed his scissors towards a tall man dressed in a dingy t-shirt and cargo shorts, a backpack thrown over his shoulder, standing outside the Curl Up and Dye. “That guy. I’ve seen him nearly every day since I got here. And all I want to do is cut and style his hair.”
“You mean Steve?”
“Yeah. Steve. I could do miracles with his hair, and that beard if he has to keep it.”
Steve stood out from the crowd of tourists, not only because of his height but his long, messy, straw-yellow hair and bushy beard. He could have passed as the blond cousin of a yeti or sasquatch. He walked past the Curl Up and Dye every morning, heading to the grocery store, the yoga studio or to the post office where he picked up what looked like art supplies.
Natasha shook her head. “Leave Steve alone. He’s a great guy, but there’s stuff there.”
“Doesn’t mean he has to look like he just woke up from a hundred-year long nap.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to poke at him either.” She closed her magazine. “I have to get ready for my next customer.” Natasha was the nail tech for the salon and would be working her ass off for the next ten hours.
Summer in Timely was ground zero for tourists visiting the California mountain town for hiking, bicycling and wine tours. Tony was surviving his first summer as the town’s newest and hottest hairdresser. He, too, was pulling long days with his regulars and drop-ins. Gotta make money to tide over the winter.
Later, between appointments, he watched Steve walk past the shop again, heading back to his house. Tony formed a plan in his head to lure the man into the salon to fix the hair, trim the beard, and maybe even get him into a better cut of t-shirt.
“Hey, Steve,” Tony greeted him. He didn’t expect Steve to nearly jump into the air, grunt ‘hello’ in return, and hasten away from the shop.
Every day is a new challenge, Tony thought, as he greeted Janet, the local clothes designer.
“Tony, I have got to show you my latest,” she said flashing her phone at him.
~~~~~
Steve had a routine. He got up, brushed his teeth, worked out if he didn’t have a yoga class, headed into town for errands, then came home and worked on his art until he feel asleep. Wash, rinse, repeat for the past year.
Now he had another element to his day. The new hairdresser, the one from New York, said hello to him every morning. It had been three times so far. At first he thought that if the new hairdresser was going to make a habit of this, he might have to change his routine. He liked, no, needed his routine. Otherwise, his life would fall apart.
After the shock wore off, Steve kind of liked it. The cute hairdresser had a cocky but genuine smile. Hello turned into small talk about the weather (always hot and sunny) and the traffic (too many tourists underfoot).
Steve began to look forward to seeing Tony as he passed the shop. Other times, too, he saw Tony through the windows of the Curl Up and Die. Chatting with a customer as he cut their hair, making precise clips with his scissors. Wielding a blow dryer or a curling wand to style someone’s hair. Consulting with a new client at the front desk over hair magazines and look books.
He should stop it. Too many echoes of his past. He wasn’t ready. So many reasons why it was a bad idea to keep walking by the hair salon, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tony and his sunny smile.
“I could cut your hair, you know,” Tony teased one morning when Steve lingered too long in his warmth after the usual good morning greetings. “Trim the beard. A good haircut lifts the spirits.”
Steve didn’t care about how he looked. People were perfectly happy to hire him to clean up their yards and haul garbage or fix their houses.
“That’s okay.”
“On the house.”
Steve shrugged and left. Maybe it was rude to leave Tony on the doorstep like that. But, he was fine, really. He didn’t need a change. He probably didn’t deserve it anyway.
~~~~~
“He isn’t interested,” Tony said dejectedly to Jan. Jan had come over to his cottage with her overstuffed portfolio, wanting his opinion on her latest work.
“That’s Steve for ya.” She pulled out more sketches.
“You have no idea. There’s so much potential there. He has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. A brilliant blue.”
“What did Natasha tell you? Leave it alone?”
Steve was overall the saddest man Tony had ever met. And Tony had met many, many people all over the world in his life. All he wanted to do was cheer him up. Maybe put some layers into that blond hair, a lowlight there, a highlight here.
“He’s just raw, untapped potential.”
“You’ve watched too many romcoms, Stark.” She poked him. “Look at this and let me know what you think.”
“Fine.”
“Has to be better than fine.” She showed Tony an Instagram post. “I’m going to enter this contest -- I’d love for you to help.”
“Justin Hammer is competing,” Tony said as he looked at the list of celebrity hair stylists at the event.
Jan finished her glass. “All the more reason to enter. I know you want to beat him.”
“That’s not me now.”
“We’ll see,” Jan replied with a grin.
~~~~~
Tony persisted in saying hello, talking about the weather and traffic, and not asking about Steve’s hair. Steve couldn’t stay away. Tony was exciting, interesting and overwhelming, and always thrilled to see Steve. Steve found himself smiling at Tony’s jokes. Then he was bringing Tony coffee. All fancy coffee drinks and the man beamed at him like he’d hung the moon.
It was ridiculous and Steve couldn’t possibly be that fascinating for someone like Tony to care two figs about him. But now he woke up in the morning thinking he’d get to see Tony that morning.
He’d even tried to draw for the first time in a year. He sat down at his drawing table in the room that was supposed to be his studio and took out a sketchbook. He managed to sketch Tony, all rough and terrible lines. But he could see Tony’s smiling eyes in the mess of charcoal.
~~~~~
After a day of trash runs, Steve walked into Sam’s bar. “Nice to see you, stranger,” Sam said from behind the counter. Sam had been his neighbor since Steve moved to Timely, and a friend to talk to when he needed one.
Steve ordered a beer. It was mid afternoon so business was slow, and Sam was free to talk. “What do you know about Tony? The new guy at the hair salon?”
Sam was washing and drying glassware. “Well, I know Tony is long-time friends with Pepper -- she got him to move out here a few months ago. He had the whole deal, a wildly successful business, thousands of instagram followers, bunch of awards, a brief reality show stint. Just everything. Gave it all up to move here.”
Steve froze. Tony was That Tony. Tony Stark. “I knew him,” Steve said. He hadn’t recognized the man in his California clothes in the simple salon setting, so different from Stark’s kingdom in New York.
“Right. You were a model,” Sam said. He wiped down the bar, waiting for Steve to continue.
“I got a haircut once in his salon in New York. Not him, one of his employees, Justin or something. My agent sent me there, and Justin did one of the worst cuts I’d ever gotten. Even worse than the bowl cut my grandma gave me.”
“Tony’s cute.” Sam smiled at Steve. “Any interest there?”
Steve set his mug firmly down on the counter. “No. Too many connections to my past. I don’t need that.”
“He’s good guy, Steve. You can’t keep punishing yourself for what happened.”
“I have to go.”
~~~~~
Steve couldn’t see Tony again. He couldn’t face anyone who might know him from his international model days. When he’d been a different man.
He stayed away for three days until he had to walk past the Curl Up and Dye for an errand. Tony rushed out to say hello and Steve was stuck.
“I’ve wondered where you went,” Tony said, fussing over him.
Steve was weak to Tony’s charm offensive. He looked at the ground, rubbing his neck, unable to look at Tony. “Busy?”
“Not too busy for lunch,” Tony replied.
Startled, Steve didn’t know what to say. Lunch could be a disaster. But Tony looked at him expectantly, a smile on his lips. Steve caved. “I’m free.”
Tony looked like he’d won the lottery. “Meet me at the diner in an hour and a half. I’ve got a client in a few minutes.”
He wasn’t going to let Tony down. Not when Tony had missed him.
Steve showed up to find Tony waiting for him. Lunch was delicious, mostly because of the company. And he laughed for the first time in a long time at Tony’s funny stories.
“We have to do this again,” Tony said while he paid the bill.
“Sure.”
He could do one lunch, then another, until meeting Tony for lunch was just like the coffee runs. Except better, because he got to sit across from Tony for at least an hour talking about everything.
~~~~~
Jan rushed into the salon. “Steve! You know who Steve used to be?”
“No?” Honestly, Tony hadn’t given much thought to where Steve had come from before Timely.
“Steve Rogers, the famous international model. You’ve seen him, right? All the runway shows, photoshoots, magazine covers? I can’t believe one of the best models ever is living right here in Timely, and I pay him to haul trash to the dump.”
Oh. That Steve. Tony had always wanted to meet the man, the quintessential All-American beefcake next door. Now he had, and they were having lunch dates in Timely of all places. Wow.
“Tony, you have to get him to model for me. You can do his hair. I’ll put him in my clothes for my Etsy shop and ---” Jan was winding up and talking so fast that Tony could barely follow.
“Think about the hair competition -- I know you want to beat Justin.”
Tony found himself tempted. How had Steve ended up in Timely anyway?
~~~~~
Steve waited for Tony at the restaurant, tamping down the nervous feeling in his stomach. He hadn’t been on a date for a long time. He’d pulled back his hair into a small bun and found good pants and a shirt. A far cry from his model days. But better than his don’t-give-a-damn time.
Tony swept in with a glowing smile for Steve. He linked his arm in Steve’s as they walked to their table. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Dinner went by fast. Tony had all sorts of fun stories about clients and tourists and Steve hung on every word. They avoided all talk of New York and Steve was grateful.
“Tony!” Jan said as she passed their table. “And Steve. So good to meet you finally -- Tony talks about you all the time. Janet van Dyne.”
Steve shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She pulled up a chair to the table. “I’m a big fan of your work. I heard that you moved here last year -- I’m surprised that you retired.”
Steve didn’t have a prepared answer for that. He froze in place, grief welling up.
“Steve,” Tony asked with concern.
He had no right to be here. He’d survived the accident that killed his best friends Bucky and Peggy. “All my fault,” he muttered.
“Steve, are you okay?”
They wouldn’t have been out driving that night if Steve hadn’t insisted on showing them this house he wanted to buy. He was at the wheel when a drunk driver crashed into the passenger side of the car. He’d walked away. Not his friends.
He was now shaking from suppressed sobs. Tony gently put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. So kind to Steve and, god, did Steve want things to work out with Tony.
“Take it easy, there,” Tony said.
“I can’t, I -- can’t,” Steve blurted out. He jumped to his feet and fled the restaurant.
~~~~~
The next morning, once his head was clear, Steve rode his motorcycle over to San Francisco to visit Bucky’s urn. Peggy had been buried back in England.
At first Steve didn’t know why he came.
He put flowers in the little vase near the block of granite engraved with Bucky’s name. He sat down on a bench nearby. He wiped a couple of tears from his eyes. Then he started talking, like Bucky and Peggy were right there sitting with him. He talked about how he could finally paint and draw for the first time since the accident. Talked about Timely, about how much he missed them and about Tony. How much Tony had come to mean to him.
It was late when Steve ran out of things to say. He put a hand on Bucky’s memorial stone and walked away.
It struck him when he was pulling into Timely why he’d made the drive all the way to San Francisco, when he realized he was going to Tony’s and not his own house.
He’d gone to ask permission to move on. He had, finally.
He parked his bike at the curb and knocked on Tony’s door. For the first time ever, Tony was at a loss for words when he opened the door. He pointed at Steve’s motorcycle jacket and the helmet dangling from his hands.
“I had no idea,” he squeaked out. “You are like a tall drink of water on a hot, hot day. Damn.”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure! Of course! Mi casa es su casa, all that jazz.” Tony threw the door open.
Steve memorized the scene -- the light from the living room spilling out over the porch like liquid gold, the light like a halo around Tony’s head, the warm browns of the wooden porch planks, the subdued white trim and railings and the vibrant red of an armchair. That feeling of home and love.
“About that haircut,” he said. “Let’s talk.”
~~~~~
Tony would have done it right then and there if he had his good scissors at hand and hadn’t left them at the salon. Instead he heated up food from the freezer and set out the best wine in the house. Steve didn’t care. They stayed up most of the night talking with a little side of messing around.
Steve couldn’t go back to his place. That cold, empty place filled with unpacked boxes and minimal furniture. So Tony let him sleep on the couch.
“I have big plans for you,” he said, giving Steve a good night kiss on the forehead. “Sleep tight.”
~~~~~
It felt like coming home when Steve settled into Tony’s chair, his freshly shampooed hair wrapped up in a towel turban. He’d done this for years since he was discovered at sixteen. Tony moved around him, unwrapping the towel and nervously arranging his hair.
“It grows back,” Steve joked.
“I know. I’m figuring out where to start.”
Steve had shaved off the beard in Tony’s bathroom that morning before they left for the salon. Tony ran his fingers along his jaw. His mouth curled up into a smile. “The beard didn’t do you justice.”
“You’ve seen my photoshoots,” Steve said, ducking his head.
Tony kissed the top of Steve’s head. “Okay. I’ve got a plan.”
“Like I said, cut it all off.”
“I’m going to do you justice.” Tony sectioned off Steve’s hair and snipped away inches.
“Why did you move to Timely?” Steve asked.
“Needed to get out of the rat race.” Tony clipped off another inch. Steve’s hair now only reached his ears and a pile of his hair lay around the base of the chair. “I was spending more time talking about cutting hair than cutting hair. An old friend -- Pepper -- needed a hairdresser for the summer season. I came and stayed.”
Steve smiled at Tony in the mirror. “I think I understand a little about that. I wanted to spend more time on my art than modeling. Found this place.”
Tony set down his scissors. He pushed aside the bottles on his workstation to find sculpting gel. He rubbed the gel into Steve’s hair. “Now I have a reason to stick around.”
He blew-dry Steve’s hair, the golden color shining under the salon lights. “Look at you,” he said in awe.
Even Steve’s breath was taken away when he saw his old self in the mirror. The hair was perfect, bringing attention to his eyes and jawline. He felt better, lighter, like he was ready to take on the world again. He squeezed Tony’s hand in gratitude.
“Thank you,” he said. “It looks great.”
“Say the word and Nat will do your nails. And Jan has clothes for you.”
Steve laughed brightly. “I know your friend Jan -- I’ve seen her clothes.”
Tony sat down in the chair next to Steve’s. “I have to warn you -- she wants to enter a fashion competition. With you as the model.”
“Ah.” Steve tipped his head back. “I might not be ready for that --”
“She wants to beat Justin Hammer. He’s an ass and he lost me clients back in New York. You might --”
“He gave me the worst haircut of my life.” Steve tapped his fingers on the chair arm, then grinned. “I’m in. Let’s call Jan.”
“Let’s get brunch first. I want to show you off, my beautiful new boyfriend.”