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If Tony was being honest, and he hardly ever was, he didn’t even know he was financing young artists, or for how long he had been doing so. Pepper sent him an invitation for an art gallery gala with his name on it and told him to show up. Apparently, he was leaning a bit too much on his new “reclusive genius” act since he returned from Afghanistan, and S.H.I.E.L.D. was demanding more public appearances to hide his Iron Man side gig.
“It’s not exactly fair. I already brought world peace, now I have to pretend to care too?” He tried to argue, half-reaching for at least a laugh from pepper.
“You’re not endearing, Tony. If you’re serious about the super hero thing…”
“I am.”
“Yes. So. You have to play your part in it. Dress nicely, cover that weird bruise you managed to get on your face and show up tomorrow night to meet the artists.”
“Cap and I were sparing. He doesn’t pull his punches, if you know what I mean.”
He meant, of course, that his childhood hero had no moral qualms about punching him in his pretty, albeit covered, face.
“You have a metal armour.”
“It’s no fun if it’s not skin against skin.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Great. Thanks for that mental image. Tomorrow, eleven. Be ready.”
Happy was there at ten thirty, but Tony made sure they waited until midnight before he climbed into his car. It’s not that he didn’t like art or galas. It’s more that he didn’t care about random artists trying to use his name to climb the social ladder, nor did he care about the people who had ascended it.
Before the Ten Rings – before weeks held hostage, before Iron Men – he would’ve taken the opportunity to flash his smile and get some pretty journalist to bed. Which he wasn’t exactly opposed to doing as much as he was tired of doing. There were bigger things on his mind now.
At least the gala was bound to have booze–––with all the money he had been apparently investing in arts and culture. They should have at least money for good booze.
“Guggenheim? Not the Met?” He asked as soon as he saw Pepper. A year ago, the vision of her in that dark-blue dress walking towards him would’ve stopped him in his tracks, but now it made his heart tight on his chest only once. “Why do I have the feeling it was your decision?”
“It was yours, actually.” She replies, reaching to adjust his tie. “Thank you. Please don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’m offended. I’ve been doing nothing but behaving myself perfectly.”
She eyed him, and he flashed his best smile before she left.
With a glass in his hand, he wandered around the galley. Paintings, drawings, and sculptures decorated the halls. They were all great, he would give them that – whatever they were using his money for was paying off. He was about to get his second drink when something else caught his eye.
That art was different.
It was a painting of an older version of a street in New York, watercolor and bright, in ways that old photographs never were. In the middle, however, his own tower cut the frame in plain charcoal, a modern building in all shades of gray in the middle of a colorful old town.
He whistled.
“I was hoping you weren’t going see that.” A voice said beside him.
The men besides him might as well have been another art piece in exposition. He work alongside an actual god, but this might just be the most gorgeous person Tony ever met, with broad shoulders and bright blue eyes and an almost shy smile.
“You’re the artist?”
He looked young, 25 at best, but the painting evoked a feeling of longing that Tony half-expected he should’ve been secretly 60.
“Steve.” He said, offering a hand.
“Tony, but you knew that already. I gotta say, I didn’t exactly expect my money to be used to hate my house.”
“You… actually live there?”
“You actually hate it?”
Steve blushed. It was honesty unfair that a men with an arm twice the size of Tony’s head could look so adorable while embarrassed. “I don’t… hate it.”
Tony looked at the painting again, how the tower darkened everything around it, then back at Steve.
“I do. I’m Sorry. I didn’t know you lived there, I thought It was more of a commercial building, you know?”
“Because who would live in a house with their own name in bold, shiny letters at the top?”
“Yeah.”
Tony laughed, and something softened in Steve’s smile too. “My ego does pressed me, I’m afraid.”
“It’s not just your building though. I mean, I’m not its biggest fan, but my whole work is about the modernization of this city, how it grows upwards and distance from the rest of the people. New York was always distant, of course, but it seems to want to be ever so far away.”
“You’re too young to be this nostalgic for a city.”
“I’m older than I look.”
Tony looked him over again. He wasn’t much taller than him, but still seemed impossibly bigger. His face was soft, smile growing playful, couldn’t be even thirty, but something in his eyes made him almost believe him.
“Do you think all modernization leads to distance?”
“I used to, when I painted this. I don’t anymore.” He licked his lips, as if almost holding back his next words, “I still think it’s ugly.”
Tony rolled his eyes, but the honesty was nothing but endearing. “In my defense, the view is unmatched. I never feel closer to the city than I do at home.”
It was a lie. The closest he had ever felt to New York was flying over it after defending it from aliens, a quietness after the battle only broken by Hawkeye’s bad jokes, but the tower’s view was a close second.
“I never thought about it.” Steve was staring at him, bluest eyes, kinder, and Tony couldn’t remember the last time he picked someone in their 20’s but…
“Let me buy you a second drink and we can…”
“Steve?” A voice interrupted him. “Those guys from the Chicago gallery are looking for you.”
A second work of art appeared by Steve’s side. As large as Steve, brown hair with a crooked smile to match. What were kids those days taking?
“Bucky!” Steve blushed furiously, turning away from Tony in a snap. “I’m sorry, Tony that’s Bucky, Bucky, that’s Tony Stark.”
They shared a glance that Tony knew all too well – Pepper could to tell him full sentences with an eyebrow raise. It was, of course, too much to ask that the smoking hot, twenty-something, talented artist was single.
“The boyfriend, I assume. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Bucky shook his hand. Tony noticed he was wearing a nice pair of gloves before his hand was almost smashed by the men. He bit down a cry of pain.
“Boy.. No, no. Bucky.”
He laughed, releasing his hand and taking a step back “I’m sorry, I just love to make Stevie annoyed. I’m his best friend, he needed a plus one. He is very, very much single.”
Steve blushed furiously. “Thank you, that’s much better” He replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Here to help.” He sounded proud of himself.
Tony snorted. “Well, in that case, can i get you another drink?”
Steve looked like he might never recover to his original skin color. “I would love to. I’m just… Those Chicago guys…”
“I’ll deal with them.” Offered Bucky “Just don’t say I never help.”
Tony forgave that men for almost breaking his hand in that instant.
Steve had to give it to Stark, the view of his tower was amazing, just not as good as pushing him against the wall, though, so he didn’t exactly took his time to appreciate it as much. Kissing Tony was a bit like sparing, pushing and pulling and stumbling against furniture. He had no idea why a billionaire cared enough to be this strong, and it was hard to keep in mind he had to pull back his own strength.
The next morning, over coffee, he was appreciating the view of a naked Tony Stark, trying not to think about how he met his father when he was younger than Tony is right now. Instead, he wondered if he could sketch Tony like this, leaning against a counter. He had never had a one night stand before, but he was pretty sure asking someone to pose for your drawings was a little too far. Maybe, when they were both dressed, it would be more appropriate for him to ask to sketch the view from the rooftop instead.
Of course, the universe wasn’t planing to let him any more free time, as his phone rang with a S.H.I.E.L.D. alarm. Great.
“Sir. I’m afraid you have a board meeting soon.” The voice of Tony’s robot butler had startled him last nice, and it startled him again now.
“Oh.” Tony frowned for a second. “I’m sorry, Steve, I always forget these. I’m afraid I have to go.”
Tony was already up, moving to his bedroom and pulling some pants on. He probably late, with that much hurry.
“Oh. No problem, actually, Bucky texted me about those Chicago dealers and I should be going anyways.”
He didn’t seem to be paying attention to him anymore, grabbing his watch from the side table and jumping to the bathroom. Steve got dressed in record time too
“So… See you?”
Tony stopped on his tracks and turned to him. “I had a great time last night.”
“Me too. We should do that again sometime.”
“We should. I’ll call you.”
Steve only realized he didn’t give his number to him when he was already in his Captain America suit, getting picked up by the quinjet. He was disappointed, but maybe he shouldn’t: he knew Tony Stark’s fame, probably that had been another one-night stand for him.
His phone buzzed when he reached the meeting room.
Tony Stark:
[09:43] Jarvis told me he took the liberty to save my contact on your phone this morning.
[09:43] Thought you should know.
Steve snorted, a smile slipping on his face
Steve Rogers:
[09:44] You really should teach your robot about privacy.
[09:44] … But I won’t complain this time.
Bucky saw Steve, or, well, Captain America, join the meeting room with his phone in his hand and the softest smile on his lips.
“That’s the face of someone who enjoyed your night.” He said out loud.
Black Widow turned to look at him as well, a smile slipping on her face. “Oh, did you and Iron Man make up?”
He knew for a fact Steve was blushing under the mask by the look of sheer annoyance he gave him.
“Shut up.”
“Why did I hear my name? Not talking about me behind my back, I hope.”
The suit Iron Man wore was always a little too much for Bucky, but he grew to appreciate it through the thousands of sketches of it Steve left around their house.
“Cap had a night out last night.” Said Hawkeye, as if this explained everything.
“Cheating on me, babe?” Iron Man put his hand on his chest, acting hurt. “I can’t believe it. That’s what I get for trusting older men.”
“That’s what you get for disobeying orders last week, shellhead.”
“You know, your words cannot hurt me today, Cap, ‘cause I also had a really good night.”
The innuendo was impossible to miss. Bucky blinked. Steve said something back as banter, in their usual old married couple vibe that earned them the Avenger’s mom and dad running gag, but he didn’t hear it.
There was no way, right?
He knew Stark took credit for creating the Iron Man suit, knew he used to work as Stark body guard before the first Loki attack in New York. It would be almost impossibly dumb to hide your secret identity in plain sight like that – or impossibly ingenious.
They had a weird alien to fight in Johannesburg, but when they were back at the jet, dripping with purple goo, he saw Steve check his phone.
“Last night was that good, huh?” He whispered to him.
Steve glanced around, making sure the team wasn’t paying attention.
“It was if you really have to know. It was a shame we had to rush out in the morning.”
“Him too?”
Steve frowned at him. “Yeah, he had a board meeting or something.”
Interesting.
“Are you seeing him again?”
He knew the answer before Steve even said it. “He just asked me to dinner tomorrow.”
Tomorrow night, huh .
“I cannot believe the only way for you to stop pining over a guy in full body armor is to bang Howard’s kid.”
“Fuck off.” He punched his arm. “And I’m not pining for anyone.”
“Sure, of course not. It’s just all very professional,” he said, getting up, flexing his arm over his head. “I think some of that crap got to my circuits. I’ll be right back.”
He walked to the workshop, correctly guessing Iron Man would be there. The guy was still in full armor, except for his leg, which currently was lying on the table.
“Let me guess, goo in your arm?”
He nodded. “Goo in my arm.”
Iron Man sighed, putting the tools down on the table and turning to him. “Let me take a look.”
“If you want to fix your armor first, I don’t mind. It’s just a little stiff around the shoulder.”
He rotated his arm for good measure. It was not a lie, he could feel the goo around his articulations very unpleasantly.
“I will take up that offer. I can’t get home until I fix my propulsion system.”
“We could meet at the S.H.I.E.L.D. lab tomorrow night?”
It was hard to read any emotion in Iron Man, but he seemed to stiffen on his bench. “Sorry, I’ll have to raincheck. I can the night after that, though.”
Bucky smiled brightly at him. “No worries, doll.”
He might have plans for tomorrow night as well. Oh, this was bound to be fun.