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Chapter Text

Steve's heart stops the second this man walks through the door. He has his hands in the pockets of an incredibly tailored suit, and he's wearing these stupid red sunglasses over eyes that are turned away from Steve and towards the cakes in the display case. His hair has this messy quality to it that makes Steve feel all tingly, like he's seeing this man in bed in the morning, his hair over closed eyes. To put it simply, Steve was fairly certain that an actual deity had just walked through his door. Luckily he doesn't look at Steve, because Steve thinks he would die of embarrassment given how long he's been staring.

"Boss," Nat says, bumping his hip with hers and looking up at him through her lashes. She's holding a tray of chocolate peanut butter fudge destined for the display case, but she apparently felt the need to interrupt Steve's pining with a teasing smirk. "I think you might need to remember to blink," she teases, continuing on her trip to the display case.

His cheeks flush bright red as he goes back to what he thinks he was doing—a rag in hand could only mean one thing, right—and continues to wipe down the marble countertop. He steals a glance in the mans direction and catches him mid yawn.

That doesn't exactly help Steve erase the visions of him waking up in Steve's bed, between soft sheets with one arm tucked around Steve's waist and—NO! Nope, nuh uh, that's not what he's thinking about. Steve squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ground himself with the feeling of the wet cloth under his hand. There was a task at hand. An important task. Like cleaning the counters. They weren't going to clean themselves. Steve lets his eyes open back up, keeping them firmly focused on the counters and later the glass furthest away from the stranger. What the hell did he even want? He was just standing on his phone in front of the cakes with that perfect hair and those ridiculous sunglasses.

Not like Steve was going to offer his assistance. And he was pretty sure that Nat wouldn't either, because she longed to set him up with someone and she would never miss an opportunity like this. It's not that Steve doesn't want to date, it's just that he doesn't really know how to talk to people. Making stunning desserts? Piece of cake (get it?). Starting a conversation with someone he found attractive? May as well be the most difficult task known to man.

That surprised most people. They pegged him as the type who would have no trouble picking anyone up. Going off his looks alone, he could probably get half of New York home with him. And he was a pretty nice guy, with a stable career who was doing pretty well for himself. So Steve, why are you so incompetent with people? Great question thanks for asking. He liked to blame his asthma. When he was little, it was so bad that he was bedridden and scrawny, and nobody wanted to flirt with someone who couldn't even come to school half the time. Then he hit puberty and he got some experimental drugs that shot him up to being easily the most attractive person in the high school. Even then, he was struggling to keep up in school after so much time sick that he didn't have time to consider dating. When he finally got out of college, he realized that maybe he should've learned how to talk to people, after all he didn't want to be alone forever.

Nat was sweet because she really did try, but Steve was pretty sure by now that it was a lost cause. He couldn't even speak to a customer.

"Hello," a voice says only a little to his left.

Steve jumps a little, startled out of his thoughts and even more startled to find the catalyst of them standing only a foot away from him. "Hi, how can—how can I um.. help you," Steve fumbles out, squeezing his cloth tightly like a stress ball. Water drips onto the floor.

The man raises his glasses to rest against his head, pushing his dark hair away from his face to reveal dark brown eyes. "I was wondering how much your special event cakes cost," he says cooly, an easy smile on his face despite the roaring waves in Steve's gut.

Steve decidedly did not have butterflies. "Uh.. we have these um.. pamphlets," Steve says, trying to kickstart his brain back into action. He walks around the counter and the man follows, thankfully now separated from Steve by a clean counter. Steve slides one of the pamphlets over and their fingers brush if only for a moment. "We do custom cakes.." he blinks, watching the strangers calloused fingers open the delicately folded pastel pink paper. "You can um.. pretty much pick every aspect of your cake. The prices can range anywhere from 30$ to 500$."

He nods, looking back up at Steve after a moment with a dazzling smile that makes his heart do backflips. "Do you do weddings?" Suddenly, Steve feels like he's rammed himself headfirst into a brick wall. He didn't see a ring, but then again usually the person that proposes doesn't get a ring. Of course. This was exactly his luck.

Steve tries not to let the palpable disappointment show on his face when he regains enough composure to respond. "Yes of course. We can also do cupcakes, if you'd rather, a lot of couples are going with that option nowadays.." he says, all the feverish excitement gone from his voice.

The man lets out a laugh. "I think Pepper would kill me if I got cupcakes. She's already a bit of a bridezilla, so the cake is the only thing I'm allowed to be in charge of, even though I'm paying for the whole ordeal." Even though Steve just got hit by a truck, the easygoing smile on the strangers face is almost enough to make Steve feel better.

"Right.. well, I'm sure we'll be able to fit your needs, if you'd like a card." Steve plucks a business card with the words Star Bakery written on it in swirling blue letters.

He takes it between two deft fingers and salutes to Steve with the card. "Pleasure doing business with you sir, I'm sure we'll meet again." Even though it wasn't exactly ideal circumstances (of course it wasn't, he was engaged), Steve can't help but feel excited by that promise. The stranger tucks the card in his front pocket and turns away, flipping his sunglasses back down out of his floppy brown hair.

"Yeah," Steve says breathlessly as he opens the door and steps back out onto the busy streets.

As soon as the door closes, he hears Natasha laughing behind him, apparently delighted by his misery. "You're such a disaster Steven. Here have this posch cruptje." She hands him a broken chocolate chip cookie, and it almost makes up for her teasing him.

"Oh Nat, he's engaged," Steve whines quietly, leaning against the back wall.

She winces and hands him another cookie, this time whole. "Sorry broučku."

Steve bites into the delectable cookie, savoring it as it crumbles into his mouth. "I'm cursed, Nat. Cursed I say." He had only ever had one successful relationship, and even Peggy had ended it with him in a matter of months. She was engaged now too, and he was happy for her, really. It just stung a little.

"Nonsense, you just need to let me help you," she declares, not for the first time.

Steve sighs, finishing the cookie. "Fine."

Chapter Text

Sharon was a nice enough girl. They went out for dinner and a movie, and they even kissed at the end of the night, but there just wasn't really anything there. Once again, Steve goes home feeling just a little too empty for his taste. Which is fine. He wasn't expecting his first date to be the one. He knew this wasn't a rom com.

God, it sure would be nice if it was one though.

Steve goes into work the following morning to find Sam already behind the counter. "Hey, Steve. How was your date."

"You guys must have a group chat to gossip about me," Steve grumbles, moving behind the counter and grabbing a fresh apron off the rack behind him. "Not great. She was nice, but not really.. my type." Brown eyes behind red sunglasses flash through his mind and Steve feels heaviness in his chest.

Sam pats his shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face. "It's okay man, I'm sure the right person is out there."

Steve forces his lips up into a smile. "Get to work Wilson," he says teasingly, looking down at the keys dangling from his fingers. "We open in 20."

For the next 20 minutes, they work together to get the shop ready for customers. The thing about running a bakery is that oftentimes the more delicate goods would go bad if they were left out overnight so every time they opened or closed, they had to move trays upon trays back and forth. As soon as the clock hits 6:00, Sam is out front, unlocking the door and setting out the signs. Almost immediately a woman comes through and ends up ordering a dozen cupcakes. Sam goes back to start working on the cupcakes while Steve starts to whip up a batch of frosting, which he preferred to do by hand and knew that people liked to watch, especially the actual frosting process. About halfway into the process the phone rings. Steve abandons his powdered sugar in favor of pressing the phone to his ear, holding it against his shoulder. "You've reached Star Bakery, how can I help you?" He says, picking the measuring cup back up.

"Hey there, I came in last week about a wedding cake? I was wondering if I could stop by sometime after closing to do a cake testing. I'll be more then willing to compensate you for the extra time." The voice on the other side says and Steve feels his heart leap into his throat. He knew that voice.

How could he not know that voice. It was a voice that tormented his every sleeping moment and more than it's fair share of walking ones. Well, not just the voice. There was something about that man that Steve couldn't shake off and it was driving him crazy, especially because it was more then his inability to flirt keeping them apart. Hell, he didn't even know if this guy was into men. "Yes, of course. You could come in on Friday." That was three days away. He could wait three days. "We close at 8 on Fridays."

"Sounds perfect." Steve can imagine the dazzling smile on the other side of the phone. "I'll see you then."

"Can I get a name for that?" Steve says gently, almost guiltily. He didn't really need a name for what it was. He would know that man anywhere. However, he couldn't stand another waking moment not knowing the mans name, not now that it was so close to his grasp.

There is a momentary pause on the other end. "Tony."

"Alright Tony," Tony! Tony, Tony, Tony! It was perfect. It fit him like a perfect rhyme, like warm coffee in the morning. "I'll see you on Friday." Already, Steve couldn't wait until Friday. He also felt the need to punch himself in the face.

"I'll see you on Friday," Tony confirms, clearly smiling. "Goodbye."

"Bye," Steve says, feeling the simple goodbyes like a punch to the gut. He was so screwed. Head over heels for an engaged man. A man who was most certainly out of his league and probably straight and definitely not interested in a baker. The click of the phone is another punch in the face. He deserved every ounce of pain for crushing on Tony. Beautiful, perfect, torturous Tony.

Steve goes back to making the frosting, a mix of joy and self loathing swirling in his gut, but nevertheless he finishes the frosting in time for Sam to lean out over the window holding a platter of dark chocolate cupcakes with a smile on his face. "Here ya go," Sam says, as Steve takes the platter, smiling at Sam graciously.

Sam was a good employee and a better friend. One of the perks of being a young business owner is that you can straight up hire your friends, or in Sam's case, befriend your employees. Bucky had come right out of high school and he left for the Army. He returned 5 years later with only one arm and a haunted look in his eyes. He moved to New York to stay with Steve, who had just been starting his business at that point. Bucky hadn't been the same man he was when he left. He was quieter at first, and he would sometimes wake up screaming. Once Steve made the mistake of waking him up in the middle of a nightmare and ended up with a knife to his throat before either of them knew what was happening. After that, Steve put Bucky to work in the shop. There was less time to dwell in the terrible things you did if you were painting walls. Bucky had stayed on, and even though he wasn't great in the kitchen, he could do the front work just fine with one arm.

Steve also convinced him to start attending meetings for soldiers with PTSD who returned from the war. Bucky had met Sam and convinced Steve to bring him on. Sam and Steve had gotten on like a wildfire, after all they shared a common trait; they both loved Bucky; Sam, as it turns out, in quite a different way from Steve. So Sam and Bucky moved in together, and Steve was about 90% sure that he was going to have to rent a tux pretty damn soon.

Nat on the other hand, Steve has met in culinary school, a second generation Russian immigrant raised on more Russian then English. She was a whirlwind from the first meeting, after all, both of them shared a love of real red velvet cake. None of that box shit. You make it from scratch the right way, or not at all. She had no interest in dating herself, but she was always the most invested in Steve's love life. They had stuck together after graduation and she moved in with her friend, Maria. She had helped Steve build up the business from the floor up, and if there was a single other person he owed the bakery to, it was her.

Then there was Wanda and her brother Pietro that were his youngest employees by far, but when the young twins had come into the store with flourishing Western European accents and nowhere near enough meat on their bones, with resumes and what were clearly their nicest clothes, Steve couldn't help but feel responsible for them. He had taken them on as a kindness, but they had turned out to be wonderful employees. Both could bake well enough and they were good at following instructions, even if they had a bit of a rebellious streak. They had been adopted from Sokovia when they were only 5 by a man who had turned out to be a psycho murderer who's name they never uttered. The cops had got the twins out just in time and they got stuck in the system, but it was the American system at least. When they turned 18, they moved to New York with nothing but the clothes on their back, hanging out around a homeless shelter. That was where Clint had met them and directed them to the bakery. Now the twins crashed in Bucky's old room in Steve's apartment. It was a little weird, but they helped cover rent and they were technically adults, so really, it wasn't wrong.

Clint was perhaps Steve's only friend who wasn't also his employee, because he had a job at the YMCA as an archery instructor. Even then, Clint hung out around the bakery a considerable amount, and sometimes he would pick up a shift that nobody else could. He wasn't allowed in the kitchen though, the one time Steve made that mistake he had gotten cookies about the constancy of a rock. Clint was deaf too, but he was the only one of Steve's friends who was married with a kid, so he had that going for him. Him and Nat had gone to high school together, which was how he joined the friend group. He helped out at the homeless shelter pretty often, because that's where he found his dog Lucky.

Steve finishes frosting the cupcakes, a deep purple color in curling petal designs, and sets them in a box, a content smile on his face. He had his friends, and soon he would be seeing Tony again, even if that held equal parts guilt and excitement.

Chapter Text

"You sure man? I know cake tastings are hard," Sam says, his apron already off and hung up.

Steve waves his hand through the air. "You worked your share for the day Sam. Besides you're not scheduled again until Monday, enjoy the break bud." Truth be told, Steve just didn't particularly want anyone else to know that he was ridiculously infatuated with an engaged man, and all his employees could see right through him. It would be easier to just do it alone, even if that meant no back up.

Sam smiles, patting Steve's shoulder. "You should come out with Bucky and me next Sunday. We're going ice skating."

"And third wheel? No thanks Sam," Steve says with a smile. "Now get home to your boyfriend."

Sam picks up his rain jacket with a chuckle. "Night Steve."

"Night," Steve says, not watching as Sam leaves, flipping the sign to closed after him. Steve turns off the brighter lights, watching the clock turn to 8. Not a minute later, Tony walks through the door in all his same glory, except this time he was wearing a rain jacket over his perfectly styled hair, up in a swooping style. He's got on purple glasses this time, with an AC DC tee shirt under his jacket.

He's a bit breathless when he looks up at Steve, a wide smile on his face. "Hey there," he says, removing his wet jacket and hanging it up next to the door. "Thanks so much for doing this, it means a lot to me," he says, his brown eyes twinkling at Steve.

Steve pinches his hand in an attempt to get his brain to work. "Yeah, no problem sir."

Tony wrinkles his nose at that, furrowing his eyebrows at Steve. "Call me Tony, please. And what's your name? I can't keep thinking of you as that hunky blond."

Tony was thinking of Steve. It probably wasn't like that, but that didn't stop Steve's knees from going weak. And not to mention, he thought Steve was hunky, which means he was admiring his muscles. "My names Steve. I um.. this is my bakery."

Tony's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh, I didn't realize you were the owner. Well, it's nice to meet officially." He holds a gentle hand out to Steve and Steve feels his cheeks flushing at the simple offer of a friendly touch. No—it was casual at best. Steve takes his hand, feeling strong fingers scarred with years of hard work.

"Nice to.. meet you too," Steve says, feeling the smoke rising from his brain. Maybe he should have just fled and made Sam take care of this. He didn't know how he was going to make it through this. "Um.. you can sit down over there if you'd like.. I'll get the samples."

Tony let's go of his hand. "Sounds great Steve," he says, turning away like that one word wasn't enough to send Steve's heart up into his throat. Steve turns away before he can further embarrass himself, heading back to the kitchen. He really couldn't be acting like this. That man was happily engaged and Steve was a looser with a crush. He had to get himself back under control.

After semi-effectively composing himself, Steve grabs two of the cakes, carrying them out on either hand. "So all the cakes have a simple buttercream frosting. This one is lemon poppy seed, and this one in double dark chocolate," Steve says holding up each in turn as he comes around the counter, setting both samples on the table in front of Tony. "I just need to um.. lock up the doors if you don't mind."

"Of course," Tony says with a smile. Steve steps over to the door, flipping the keys into his hand and locking the glass door. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he could just.. sell Tony a cake. It would be alright.

Steve heads back towards the kitchen to grab two more cakes. He brings out all the cakes, two by two, until he finishes. "That's all the cakes, sir. Would you like anything else?"

Tony looks up at him, his fork empty. "Can you sit. I don't think I can eat all this cake alone."

God damn it. Steve blinks at Tony, but far be it from his capabilities to say no, so he sits down, a smile toying on his lips. Steve sinks into the chair, unable to stop himself from leaning against the table, smiling over at the beautiful man in front of him. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost think you were flirting." Oh no. Oh god. Oh no. Shit, he just doesn't know when to shut the hell up. Did every ounce of sense leave his body? Why the ever loving fuck would he say that out loud. Steve's eyes widen in fears she goes to apologize.

Luckily Tony just laughs instead of punching him in the face, silencing his racing heart. "Who knows, pretty boy." He takes another bite of cake, moaning in a way that sends Steve's mind right back to the image of Tony in his bed, this time under Steve, his head thrown back, a look of ecstasy on his beautiful face. Steve blinks and he's right back where he was, sitting across the table. "You gotta tell me though, which is your favorite."

"Strawberry creme. But I'm also partial to lemon poppy seed," Steve answers easily, grateful for a distraction from his twisted mind.

"Mm, which one did you say was Strawberry creme?" Tony says, looking down at the array of cakes.

Steve blinks at them. "This one," he points to the cake with SC on top in blue frosting.

Tony spears it on his fork, raising it to Steve before he puts it in his mouth. If there was one thing Steve knew how to do, it was make a good cake. All of them were moist and mostly fresh, but most importantly they had a lot of love put into them. It was a good job. Everything was worth it to see the way Tony's eyes light up with that one bite. "This is amazing, Steve," he says, taking another bite. "Here, do you want some," he offers a fork full of cake to Steve.

The blood rushes to his face, but he can't stop himself from leaning halfway across the table to take the offered dessert. His eyes slip closed and he savors the explosion of strawberry and vanilla across his tongue. Yeah, it wasn't his favorite for nothing. He sinks back into the chair, his eyes opening back up to find Tony starting at him with a look of wonder. Steve feels his throat go dry despite the milky cake still sitting in his mouth. He wants nothing more then to say fuck it and kiss the stunning man across the table. What's wrong with him? There was no way it was ever going to happen. "Thanks," he mutters, looking down at his hands.

"I'll have to run it by Pepper, but I think that might be the winner," Tony says softly, his voice like velvet against Steve's ears. "Could you do a three layer with this and one double dark chocolate in the middle?"

Steve looks back up at him. "Of course. What were you thinking about for frosting?"

"Strawberry with gold and coral fondant flowers. Kinda like that one in the case." He points to the purple flowered display cake, currently in a darkened display case.

Steve nods, standing up. "Would you like me to mix up a batch of strawberry frosting?" He shouldn't. He should box up the cakes and send Tony on his way. That was the smart thing to do.

But the smile on Tony's face when he looks up at Steve is enough to eradicate his common sense. "That would be nice. Thank you so much." Steve goes back around the counter, trying to ignore the man who was ruining his composure. He is, however, pretty fucking surprised when he turns to find Tony leaning across the counter next to the cash register, a plate of raspberry chocolate cake in his hand. "So where'd you learn to bake like this," he says, taking a large bite.

"Four years of culinary school with the Art Institutes in Virginia," he answers readily, pulling out a bag of powdered sugar. "Then I moved up here. It's nice."

Tony makes a little noise of confirmation, clearly not minding that Steve's back was turned even if they were going to have a conversation, "I went to MIT and got four PhDs. Lived in Malibu most of my life though."

Huh? Steve blinks down at the frosting he was working on, hardly hiding the shock on his face. "Did you say four PhDs?" He was pretty glad Tony couldn't see his face right now.

He just makes a little noise like it's no big deal. "Yeah. Head of my class too. Everyone hated me to some degree, I think. Spunky little rich teenager smarter then all of them combined." He chuckles, taking another bite. "Really, what's not to hate?"

"You don't seem so bad to me," Steve says honestly, his brain hardly even registering the rest of what Tony had said.

A beat of silence passes then and Steve can feel eyes boring into the back of his head before Tony decidedly chuckles again. "Thanks. You might be the first."

"Well that can't be true," Steve says, pouring out some strawberry syrup into the almost finished frosting. His fiancée had to like him at least a little. Tony doesn't answer that, and Steve can't decide if he thinks that's a good thing or not. Steve finishes up the small batch of frosting with a faint pink tint and brings it over to Tony, who was still leaning over the counter. "Here you go," Steve says gently. He looked vulnerable in a way that Steve hadn't exactly been expecting.

Tony puts his fork in the frosting and licks the frosting off the metal prongs. Steve can't help but imagine him licking something else. "That's amazing," Tony says after a moment, his sparkling eyes meeting Steve's in a tender way. Suddenly, Steve can't help but feel every inch between them like a burden, few as they were.

Captivated by Tony's eyes, he raises a thumb to swipe the excess frosting from the corner of the other man's mouth, and Steve watches his lips part ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving Steve's. Then there are soft pink lips on Steve's lips and everything feels right in the world.

Chapter Text

The kiss tastes like strawberries and vanilla, the dim lights shining down on them making Steve feel dizzy. Or maybe it was the man in front of him and the hand on his cheek that made him feel dizzy. Why had he ever tried to fight this? What had he thought to gain from denying himself perfection.

There had to have been a reason that he hadn't done this sooner. Something right on the edge of Steve's fogged up mind.

Oh right. Tony was engaged. Steve snaps back away from him, his hands gripping into the counter farther away from Tony, near where he had made the frosting mere moments ago. "I'm so sorry, you need to go." If Steve couldn't control himself, then he would have to get Tony out of here as quickly as possible.

He would like to think that the look on Tony's face is hurt, but that was surely his twisted mind playing tricks on him. "Can I have a cake box?" He asks quietly, stepping away from the counter. Steve sets the box on the counter, then ducks into the back room, trying to calm his beating heart. He was a terrible person. Steve was a terrible person. He kissed a man who was trying to buy his wedding cake. Never in his life, would he have thought himself capable of something so terrible. Something so inherently wrong. When he gets himself back under control and peeks around the door he finds nobody, only an empty bakery with several sample cakes abandoned at an empty booth. He picks up the slip of paper left on the counter, finding a check for... no, there was no way that was right. Three thousand dollars? Three thousand dollars. What the hell?

But the number was spelled out correctly under the name, addressed to Star Bakery. Steve would've been fine with no payment after the way he acted but this.. this was far from what he had expected.

Steve closes his eyes, stuffing the check in his jacket. Tony would probably come in again and he would be able to have Sam or someone else ask if he meant to leave three thousand dollars. He walks around the rest of the shop, turning off the rest of the lights and discarding the cakes Tony had left behind. By the time he finally pushes through the door, hearing it lock behind him, it was fully dark to the point where it would be dark even if it wasn't still raining.

Puddles of water splash under his feet as he walks the long New York streets, his shoes soaked by the time he finally reaches his apartment building. He usually walked to and from work, the motorcycle in his spot in the parking garage was usually reserved for longer journeys. He climbs the stairs to the 12th floor, pushing through the door and into a quiet apartment. Not uncommon in itself, Wanda spent increasingly more nights at her boyfriends apartment and Pietro had always been quieter. He was content to sit in bed and read, but even the crack under his door was dark. Steve takes his shoes off at the door and hangs his jacket on the hook next to the door. He trudged into his room and throws his clothes in a wet pile in his laundry basket. He pushes into his bathroom and glares at his reflection in the mirror. He looked as disgusting as he felt with his hair plastered to his head and his eyes gaunt and shallow. The water he turns on is warm, but not warm enough to completely erase the chill from the inside of his bones. It was okay though, he deserved it.

His hair is smooth through his fingers as he washes it, rubbing at his scalp. How would he be able to face anyone he knew ever again knowing what he had done. While it wasn't exactly illegal, it was still wrong, no matter how right it had felt to his heart. At the time he hadn't even registered how wrong it was. He kissed a man who he still wasn't certain liked men, but that he was certain loved someone else. Loved Pepper a lot.

God, he hopes Pepper knows just how lucky she is.

He also hopes that Pepper doesn't show up at the shop to try and kill him. That wasn't even something he had been worrying about, but now that he thought about it, it was a real possibility. He doesn't really know if he would even have the heart to try and stop her from breaking his face. He deserved it.

The water slowly turns cold but Steve doesn't get out until it feels like ice spattering against his back. He turns the water off and steps out, pulling on boxers and a black tee shirt before collapsing into soft sheets. His eyes close to the world but his mind continues replaying the kiss the feeling of Tony's hand on his cheek and the reciprocation of the kiss. It had almost felt like Tony had wanted to be kissing him. Maybe that was just what Steve wanted to have happened, but it had felt so real. It had felt like an actual kiss, and it wasn't Tony who had pulled away, it had been Steve.

Was Tony a cheater? It was almost a comforting thought, that he wasn't the only terrible person tonight. Did that mean that he had a moral obligation to tell Pepper that her husband to be was kissing other men? Oh, but how the hell would he explain that? Hi, I kissed your fiancé, but he kissed me back and I think he's cheating on you. Doesn't exactly sound like a good excuse.

He spends that night restlessly, only to be woken up by a loud noise at 5:34 in the morning. Steve sits up, his head pounding and his eyes aching. "Hello!" He calls out, already resining himself to being awake today.

"Sorry!" Pietro calls back, somehow sounding wide awake despite the early hour. "Making breakfast before I head in for my shift."

Steve rubs his eyes, groaning quietly. It was his own fault he slept so poorly anyways. Couldn't just stop overthinking everything. To find Pepper or not to find Pepper. Was Tony even a cheater. Who kissed who. Was it his place to meddle. How was he supposed to make this cake under these circumstances. He and Nat were the only ones allowed to make wedding cakes, being the only ones with any actual training. His shag carpet is soft against his bare feet as he trudged towards the kitchen, pulling a pair of sweatpants on on his way to his bedroom door.

Turns out that Pietro had knocked over three boxes of cereal that were now scattered across the kitchen floor, Pietro next to them holding a newly fetched broom. "You can go back to bed, I've got this handled."

"I'm good. Just.. throw it all out," he says, waving his hand at the cereal as he plops onto one of the bar stools.

Pietro begins to sweep up the cereal onto a dust pan Steve hadn't noticed before. Every so often he plucks it up and throws out the cereal. "How'd you sleep?" he asks, looking up at Steve.

"Like shit," he answers honestly, resting his head in his hand. "We got a new coffee pot, right?"

"Yeah." The old pot had broken a few weeks ago, and Wanda was the only one of them who ever used the thing. Pietro didn't like the taste, and Steve usually preferred to sleep. Not today though. Today, he would settle for chemicals. "Want me to brew you a cup."

"Yes please," Steve says slowly, blinking down at his hands. "How'd you sleep?"

"Great actually. I had a dream that I had super speed. Guess that would come in handy, 'cause then I coulda grabbed the boxes."

Steve laughs. "Yeah, it woulda." Pietro was a good guy. He never failed to brighten any room he was in, even if sometimes his humor was a little dry. He even cleaned up nice when he wanted to, and one day he would make a just fine husband. As it stood now, he tended to jump from girl to girl, but the one he was with now was pretty nice. Steve had even met her once, which was further then most of the girls got. Crystalia, her name was. She said her dad had never been in the picture and her mom had gotten to the birth certificate before the birth drugs had worn off. Everyone just called her Crystal though, which was an actual name, so what did Steve know really. "I didn't know you were scheduled so early," Steve says, squinting at Pietro.

"Oh I'm not, I was going to run by Victor's. Wanda asked me to bring her a dress. Apparently they're going on a date." His voice takes a bit of a mocking tone at the last sentence, but Steve knows that for all his bravado, Pietro actually liked Victor. He was a decent guy from what Steve had seen of him. Very polite. Obviously he had come from money, so Steve had been a bit wary at first, but he did really love Wanda, middle class as she was. "I don't get why she can't come by herself, but who am I to question the mistress."

"Isn't that the truth," Steve mutters with a smile, as Pietro sets the cup of coffee in front of him.

It's nicely made, with less creamer then Pietro would've put in it if it were for himself, but more then Steve usually preferred. "Hey so Crystal was going to take me to meet her mom next weekend. Can I take a few days off?"

Steve shrugs, taking the first sip of warm coffee. It sprouts across his mouth with the taste of searing vanilla and strawberry. He blinks away the vision of Tony's lips on his. There was no hand on his cheek and no puzzling man in front of him, just a question. "Yeah of course. Gotta meet the parents." He was proud, really. That was way further then Pietro usually got, and as far as Steve was concerned, it was time for him to settle down. Even if that made him sound like his mom.

Oh well, there were worse people out there.

Chapter Text

Steve doesn't end up in work again until Monday with Wanda, who apparently wants to go to a wedding with Victor on Sunday, and then he's at work all day with Bucky on Tuesday, who is entirely content to chat up customers and Steve alike all day.

It was good to see Bucky back on his feet like that. When he started working, he would hardly say a complete sentence to a customer and would only speak to Steve when necessary. Yeah, Steve wouldn't mind going to Bucky's wedding soon. It was written in the stars, as soon as these two assholes got their shit together. He was almost ready to start placing bets on who would propose first with Nat. She said it was going to be Sam, but Steve wouldn't put it past Bucky to grow a pair, not with the way he looks at Sam.

They were good for each other, in a way that Steve hadn't really expected. They had clashed a bit at first, but now it was as if there had never been another alternative. It was sweet, how good together they were.

And there's the added bonus that with Bucky working, he's the one up front when Tony walks through the door. Steve ducks below the window before the bell on the door is even ringing, feeling awfully like a goddamn child. Really? This was what he resorted to? Hiding behind a counter? He had half been hoping that Tony would never show up again and he would just be able to move on with his life.

The other, worse side of him had wanted Tony to return and.. and do what? What the hell did Steve really expect.

Bucky pokes his head around the corner, his eyes landing on Steve crouching begins the counter with an air of confusion. "Hey Steve... what are you.. doing?"

"None of your business," Steve snaps. He still hadn't told a living soul what had happened on Friday night, and quite frankly he would rather keep it that way. He knew there wouldn't be teasing, but there would be judging looks and then pity. He didn't want that.

Bucky hesitates, but seems to understand that he should drop it until after work. "Uh, ok.. this guy wants to know if you can make that cake he asked for by Sunday."

Steve bites his lip. "Yeah I can do that. Can you ask him if he meant to write a check for three thousand dollars?"

Bucky's eyes bulge out of his head. "Three thousand. That's..."

"I know." Steve interrupts him and Bucky disappears for a moment, returning after a short conversation.

"He said yes. Holy shit Steve," Bucky mutters, clearly doing some mental math about exactly what that much money would do for them. Nothing Steve hadn't already thought through. Steve gives him a thumbs up and Bucky goes back around, apparently to let Tony know that that was all good, because the door bell rings with the sound of someone leaving.

Steve rises back to his feet, thoroughly disgusted with himself. Bucky leans through the window, his eyes concerned as they look Steve up and down. "Don't mention it, really. I don't want to talk about it. Also, would you mind doing a wedding for me?"

The judging and concern increase exponentially. "Not.. really. Not unless you give me a reason. Sam and I are having a date night, remember."

That's right. Sam had invited Steve out to go ice skating with them. That meant neither of them could do it, and both of the twins were preoccupied then. He could ask Nat and have Clint pick up her shift here. "Fine. Just so you know, you're an asshole though."

"Yeah I know." Bucky shrugs, handing him the golden envelope in his hand. "And you're a secretive bitch."

"Yeah I know," Steve parrots, opening the seal on the envelope. Out slides a creamy white slip of paper with metallic coral trim and golden lettering inscribed with the words Ms. Virginia Potts and Mr. James Rhodes. Maybe Tony was a nickname? Pepper was clearly a nickname for Virginia, so maybe Tony was a nickname too. Or maybe his middle name. That wasn't unheard of. Then it had the date, address, and time. Fine.

He can make a cake. It'll all be fine.

Nat picks up the phone on the second try once Steve gets back to his apartment. "What do you want Steven," she snaps at him, clearly cross, despite it only being 3.

"Hello to you too. I was wondering if you could do a wedding on Sunday," Steve says, leaning back in the armchair.

She goes silent, for a long moment, then yells something indistinct to someone else. "I'm very busy right now. Why can't you just do it, Rogers," She says quickly.

"Um.." He didn't particularly want to say it. Like, not at all.

"You're the face of the company, not me. Clint will lend you a tux." She says quickly. Clint yells something he can hear through the phone and Nat mutters something angry back at him that causes him to quiet down. "Perfect, it's decided. Bye Steve."

"No wait—" but the line goes dead anyways. God damn it. Never get on a Russians bad side, just a word for the wise. Even if it's only for a minute. She'll make you do something you don't want to. And knowing her, he had probably just interrupted a game of cards or something. He loved Nat, but god could she piss him off.

Steve stands up, kicking the couch. He was suddenly really regretting letting his employees have whatever off time they ask for. Pietro had gone to the last wedding with him, and he had been good at it. But no. Crystal's mom wants to meet him. Damn it.

He walks into his room and throws himself down on the bed, groaning into a pillow.

Curse it all. Curse it fucking all. Clint wasn't technically an employee, so he couldn't do this, and frankly, Steve was pretty sure that Clint would be too chicken to go against what Nat said anyways.

Not that he blamed him for that. Nat was rather terrifying. One of Steve's fondest college memories was Nat snapping a dudes finger after he touched her plate presentation of a croissant. Yeah, but somebody had to put Brock in his place, and well.. there was a pretty nurse at the local ER, so maybe he was fine with it.

Steve only went to the ER in that town once, but the woman had made an impression to say the least. She was beautiful, but far too interested in getting Steve's number for his taste. Besides, she wasn't really his type. He had had a really bad allergic reaction to some poison ivy in the woods near the campus, so he hadn't exactly been in the mood to flirt at the time either when his legs were covered up and down with blisters.

Maybe he could wade through some poison ivy before the wedding. That would probably help him keep his damn head on. God damnit.

Chapter Text

Sunday comes too fast. Way too fast. He may as well have blinked, and then the cake was constructed and in boxes, sitting in Sam's car. Steve climbs into the front seat, looking at the invitation on the other seat and the borrowed tux on his body. He could just not. He could go home and watch Legally Blonde for the thousandth time.

Now on the other hand, he kind of was expected to be somewhere important in an hour. Even if he didn't want to be there.

At all.

Curse his untimely phone call to Nat. But she was true to her forcing Steve to do it, and he hadn't brought himself to ruin Sam and Bucky's night or tell them exactly why he didn't want to do it.

His friends were the worst. Sure, they got him out of more sticky situations then he cared to count, but they were so mean.

So mean.

Steve drives to the expensive ballroom anyways, careful with the precious cargo in the back of the borrowed Honda. He, after all, was expected to deliver it, and he wasn't going to back out now, even if he wanted to. He pulls around back, 30 minutes before the reception was to start. The window rolls down as a man approaches holding a clipboard. "What do you have?" He asks.

"The wedding cake. My names Steve Rogers." The mans gaze snaps up to Steve in surprise. His eyes then squint shut in a calculating look. So now Steve's a little uncomfortable. It's fine. "Do you.. have a cart?"

"I'll get it," he says a bit coldly, making a note on the clipboard as he walks away.

Huh. That was a pretty weird reaction. Unless Tony told this guy that Steve kissed him and he was like.. black listed. No no, that's not important right now. Steve would do his job, and that was it. He gets out of the car and goes back around to the trunk, opening it to find the disassembled cake along with the support structure and the topper, which was two swans. It was unusual for them to not know what either the bride or groom looked like, but this was a fine solution, especially because there had been no specifications made.

The tall man returns with a cart, offering it to Steve, who takes it graciously. "Thanks."

He nods, then walks away without another word, leaving Steve to move the cake to the cart alone. Something he could handle. He was a grown up, and he was certainly capable of moving the cake, large though it was. So Steve piles the tiers in their separate boxes onto the cart, then he tucks the extra pieces under his arm and begins pushing them towards the building. A man wearing a chef's hat opens the door for him, and Steve smiles gratuitously.

"We can help you assemble that on the cake cart," the man says, gesturing to a cart covered in a lovely golden table cloth draped in rippling pleats.

Steve nods, pushing the cart up next to the display cart. "Thank you." Indeed, the chefs help him assemble the towering cake onto the cart, the fondant flowers complimenting the cloth nicely. "Does the cake have a place where it should be?" Steve asks the chefs, glancing around.

A woman sets a hand on his shoulder. "I'll show you." She leads him out to a spot near the unset banquet tables, draped in the same gold cloth. Across the room, Steve spots Tony, but he doesn't see the bride anywhere yet. "There. It's pretty, isn't it. You did a great job." She compliments, patting his arm.

"Thank you," Steve says with a smile. His eyes aren't on the cake though, they're on Tony across the room, dressed up in an impeccable tux, far more expensive looking then the one he had originally come in wearing. His hair is impeccable too, and Steve's pretty sure he's the prettiest sight ever. Which makes sense. It's his wedding night. He's a married man by now. Which is odd, because Steve doesn't catch the glint of a ring.

The chef follows his distracted gaze and she punches him. "I know, right? It's so weird to be in the same room as the Tony Stark. Well, you look dressed for the party, but if you want to come back, I'm sure Meredith could put you to work." Before Steve can ask what that means, she's gone, presumably back to the kitchen. What did she mean Tony Stark? Wasn't his last name Rhodes?

With a measurable amount of effort, Steve tears his eyes away from Tony to scan the other people there. More and more people were filling into the massive ballroom, but the only one that surprises him is Wanda, on the arm of Victor, smiling up at him. He had known she was going to a wedding, but if he had known it was going to be this one, he would've never come. She could easily have delivered the cake.

Steve picks his way over to her, with a look of exasperation. "Wanda Maximoff, I think you forget to tell me that this was the wedding you were going to."

"Nat said you had to," she says with a sly look on her face. "You look good Steve."

He points an accusing finger at her. "You're a brat. Victor, I'll warn you, she's a brat."

"Yeah I know," he says with a fond look on his face as he adjusts the arm around her bare shoulders. She was wearing a strapless scarlet dress that matched Victors tie nicely. "It's nice to see you again Mr. Rogers."

"You too Victor," Steve says, rolling his eyes. They were good for each other. "What time is it?"

"Five minutes out," Wanda says with a smile. "You have to see Pepper's dress, it's so amazing. It looks like a cloud."

The bride arrives five minutes later on the dot, and indeed it looks like she's floating on a cloud. That thing had to weigh a thousand pounds in tulle alone. However, the confusing part about how she arrives was that she arrived with a man who was certainly not Tony on her arm. More confusing then that, is when they kiss and the crowd begins to cheer. Steve looks back to where Tony was and sees him clapping too.

Oh.

Wait.

Was it possible that this was James Rhodes and that Tony wasn't getting married today. Which would mean that he had actually been into that kiss a week ago and that he wasn't a terrible person and neither was Steve. Oh, but that also meant that Steve had pushed him away and practically told him to get the hell out and proceeded to actually literally hid from him like a child. So there had been actually chemistry between them, and Steve had ruined it by assuming that Tony was getting a cake for his wedding when he had never even said that.

That was so fucking typical of Steve's luck with relationships. Damn it.

But this could be salvageable. Maybe he could still fix this.

Chapter Text

"Excuse me," Steve says to Wanda, taking his leave to pick his way through the preoccupied crowd towards Tony. He registers the exact moment that Tony sees him, because his skin begins to heat up with the weight of a heavy gaze.

What was he even going to say? It was going to have to be good, and he was going to have to figure it out quick because he was still moving towards Tony and Tony was still watching him with that heavy gaze. Yeah, this was going to go either really well, or really poorly, but damnit, he was going to try. He genuinely liked Tony, and then there was the bonus that he was gorgeous and also really smart and apparently obscenely rich.

Steve finally comes to a halt a few feet away from the object of his more guilty dreams over the past week and the object of his apparently unwarranted self loathing. "This isn't your wedding."

Great job. Excellent. That's exactly how you win a man over. Really, it was a wonder that people weren't falling over themselves to listen to this. Tony clearly feels the same way, given the bewildered and confused look on his face. "I mean.. shit." Another beautiful line. Steve could've been an author in another life, this was perfect word usage. "I thought that the wedding cake was for your wedding, but it's not, actually, which means that um, I probably shouldn't have freaked out when we kissed on Friday."

"Sorry, wait. You thought I was getting married?" Tony interrupts and Steve nods like a madman.

"Exactly. So I um.. I kinda had a massive crush on you, but I thought you were engaged, but you're actually not, so I guess that it's not a terrible thing that I have a crush on you." Someone stop him. Someone punch him in the face. "I mean I guess if you don't want me to have a crush on you still, we can just forget this ever happened, but you didn't seem opposed to it when we kissed, so maybe I was thinking that—"

Oh. That's nicer then a punch in the face. Tony's hand is cupping his jaw and their bodies are pushed flush together in a passionate kiss. There were what felt like thousands of people around them, but as far as Steve was concerned, they were the only two people on the planet. This was right. His hands snake around Tony's waist to deepen the kiss, leaving him breathless, but still kissing. He didn't need oxygen anymore, just Tony. It's Tony that pulls away first, but he doesn't go far.. in fact, hardly even an inch. "How would you feel about being my date to this thing I'm going to. It's my friends wedding, and it would be embarrassing to show up alone. I think you'd make a pretty cute accessory," he says gently, quiet enough that only Steve can hear him.

"That would be nice. Also, thanks for shutting me up." Steve moves his hands down the fitted seams to hold his hips gently.

Tony laughs like the stars twinkling. "Any time angel. The cake is nice by the way."

"I'll make you a thousand cakes," Steve says, pressing their foreheads together.

He laughs again, and Steve decided that he never wants him to stop. If he could pause the world right here, this wouldn't be such a bad place to stay forever. "You're only saying that because it's your favorite flavor."

"You got me." Steve doesn't try to hide the look of adoration in his eyes when he cooks down into Tony's stunning brown eyes.

"You know, I'm the best man, but I'm sure I could sneak away to sit with my beautiful date for a minute," Tony says, a very similar look on his face. He was beautiful, like he stepped right out of a painting. Maybe one day he would paint Tony. Hang it up for everyone to see.

"How kind of you," Steve says, like he isn't imagining a life together already.

Tony nods his agreement, sliding his hands to lock around Steve's neck comfortably. "You know, this is probably going to be all over the tabloids tomorrow. Tony Stark sleeps with baker."

"I didn't realize we were sleeping together," Steve says quietly, hoping to all hell that Tony didn't feel the increase in his pulse or the tightening of Steve's hands on his hips. It was a nice thought, even if it might end up splattered for everyone to see. Also, apparently Tony was famous or something, which was maybe something Steve should look into at home where nobody could make fun of him for not realizing that he kissed a celebrity.

Tony raises his lips in an uncaring expression. "Doesn't matter if it's true or not. But the night is still young, so we'll just have to wait, huh?"

"Yeah," Steve says, the breath already knocked out of him.

His lips tilt up into a smirk, and he opens his mouth to say something presumably very suggestive, but they're interrupted by a voice Steve know. "Uncle Tony.. I hope I'm not interrupting," Victor says, clearly very aware that he was interrupting.

Tony rolls his eyes, but steps away from Steve slightly, his hand reaching down to keep one of Steve's hands on his hips. "Victor, what can I do for you." Steve glares at Wanda who seems caught between laughing at him and freaking out because she just found her boss/roommate kissing her boyfriends uncle.

"I wanted you to meet my girlfriend, Wanda," Victor says, gesturing to Wanda.

"Hello Mr. Stark, it's nice to meet you. Hey Steve," Wanda says, returning his glare then smiling at Tony.

Steve rolls his eyes and fixes them on Tony. "It's Tony, please. Also how do you two know each other." He glances up at Steve, tightening his grip on Steve's hand.

"She's my roommate. And my employee. And a brat." Steve shrugs, tangling his fingers together with Tony's, still holding it firmly against his hip.

"I learned from the best," she says, patting his arm.

Tony laughs that pretty laugh again, a smile on his face. "I like her. Congrats Vic, I approve."

Victor rolls his eyes. "Thank you, oh gracious one. Pep and Rhodey are sitting down, I'm pretty sure that means you have things to do Tony."

Tony looks up at where Pepper and James are indeed taking their seats with a little huff. "Damnit. I'll catch up with you in a minute, Steve." He retracts his hand from Steve's and Steve lets the hand fall to his side, content with the promise that Tony was going to return. "You two kids behave." He winks at Victor.

Then Tony's gone, only to appear standing next to James a minute later. "So when did that happen?" Wanda says.

"About three minutes ago." Steve says with a little shrug.

Wanda huffs in disbelief. "I can't believe you hooked a billionaire in three fucking minutes." She slides her way into Victors arm, holding his hand tightly. "Took me months."

"Haha. You're very funny," Victor says nudging her hip.

"Billionaire?" Steve asks looking back in surprise.

Wanda laughs. "You didn't know? Allow me to be the first then," she gesture to where Tony is taking a mic from the table. "That's Tony Stark, sole heir to the largest tech company ever, built by Howard Stark. The Manhattan Project? Stark Tower? Ark Reactor technology? The whole family is full of geniuses."

"Flattering," Victor says, right as Tony begins to speak.

"Alright folks, welcome to the reception, woo. Yeah." He pumps his fists in the air in a mocking manner and the crowd laughs. "So, you probably know me and you probably know the bride and groom. Let me be the first to tell you though, that they only met because of me." Another chorus of laughter. "Really! Pepper was my personal assistant, and one of the only people I knew who could tolerate me, when my old college buddy got assigned to liaison between SI and the federal government. Next thing I know, they're making out in my bar. And then this jackass." he bumps James with his hip, and James smiles up at him with a fondly resigned look. "Proposed! Well, so of course I'm paying for the whole shindig. So I guess what I'm saying is, the foods going to be good! We'll be serving shortly. Until then, enjoy the music!" Loud 80's rock begins blaring and Tony takes a seat saying something quiet to Pepper and James. Both of their eyes land on Steve and he gives a little wave to them. Pepper raises a brow at him and looks back at Tony.

Tony smiles at Steve and waves him over. Alright. He steels himself, walking towards the large table, through the people, some of whom were now dancing. This was all going to be fine, yeah? It's not like he had really done anything wrong. He hadn't kissed anybodies fiancé. Well, at least not that he was aware of. He had, however, probably hurt Tony a little in the past week or so. If Tony's friends wanted to chew him out for that, then they could get that right. They deserve it, even.

Steve steps up with a little smile. "Congratulations on the marriage."

"Thank you," Pepper says, holding a gloved hand out to him. He takes it, with a smile. "So you and Tony?" She says, the words feeling almost double edged.

Steve bites his lip, glancing over at Tony who is in the process of rolling his eyes. "Pepper, we talked it over." 

"We're just having a friendly conversation," Pepper says, fixing him with a look that somehow manages to quiet him down. "Right Steve?" She fixes him with the same look.

Well, of course he nods, he wasn't going to ever say no to this woman. "Right. Um, yes. Me and Tony."

"You hurt him again," James says. Tony mutters something along the lines of Jesus fucking Christ. "I break all your fingers." Yeah, Steve didn't exactly find himself doubting the merit to that statement. He was glad though. Glad to know that Tony had good people on his side, just like Steve's friends, all of whom he probably owed an explanation and apology to.

"I'll.. um, do my best sir," Steve says, mentally hitting himself in the head. Repeatedly.

"Ok, that's enough of that," Tony interjects, pushing away from the table. "You two, behave," he says sternly, pointing between his friends.

Pepper purses her lips at Tony, and the brunet shrinks back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and mouthing something that Steve can't make out. "Thank you for the cake, Steve, it looks wonderful."

"Oh of course. You know, strawberry creme is my favorite." Steve smiles, grateful for the release from their scrutiny.

However, not a moment later, her eyes narrow and she looks over at Tony. "Anthony Edward Stark, did you get me a strawberry cake for my wedding?"

Tony sits up, looking at her questioningly. "Yeah, but you like strawberries."

"I'm allergic to strawberries," she corrects, and Steve is very very glad he isn't on the receiving end of her fiery glare. Even James looks increasingly uncomfortable, being in the middle of the face off. He looks up at Steve and shrugs.

Realization dawns on Tony and he puts his head in his hands. "I knew that."

"You most certainly did not. The only thing I'm allergic to, really?"

"The middle layer is double dark chocolate," Steve supplies, not wanting Pepper to murder his new boyfriend. Or—date. Whatever they were.

Her gaze redirects on him and she deflates with the realization that this was still her wedding and they still had an audience. "You—I—ok. Thank you. I like dark chocolate. Tony, I'm still going to beat your ass," Tony winces, "but I'm not going to kill you anymore, so take what you can get."

Tony smiles up at Steve, relived that he would still be alive tomorrow. "My Prince Charming. Ok, you two can go dance or something. Steve and I are going to go find something to help with, right Steve."

Tony grabs his hand across the table before Steve can say another word, pulling him away from the newlyweds. "Um, right," Steve says, too little too late. But Tony keeps holding his hand once they've cleared the table, so maybe it's all a win in the end. "Tony, I don't think you're going to avoid her wrath," he mutters.

"Look, it's not my fault. I was distracted by your pretty blue eyes." He bats his own up at Steve, ignoring the unimpressed look on Steve's face. "You don't have to help if you don't want to, but I'm going to go help in the kitchen."

"I'm coming with you," Steve says, squeezing his fingers and feeling warmth in his chest at the smile that spreads across Tony's face.

Chapter Text

Well, Pepper gets the beautiful chocolate cake (sans-frosting) smeared on her nose, as does James, who Tony tells him is actually called Rhodey, and all's well that ends well. "Have I told you how pretty you look yet?" Steve asks, holding a glass of champagne and leaning on a pillar near the outskirts of the ballroom.

"Only 20 times, I think," Tony says with a smile. "To be completely clear though, right back atcha." That's of course when his phone starts ringing in his pocket and Tony's eyes flicker down to it. "You should probably take that," he says, stepping back.

"Don't go too far," Steve says, squeezing his hand before grabbing the phone out of his pocket. He turns away as he presses it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey Steve," Wanda greets. "Vic and I are going to head back to our apartment for the night, I just wanted to check if you needed a ride or anything." She was sweet to think of him. He could also tell that there was a warning to be heard there. She had said our apartment, and since she was still living with Steve, she was probably letting him know that with Pietro gone they were going to spend the night at her place. Which was fine, they can do whatever they want. She does pay rent.

"I'm good Wanda, thanks. It's not that late though, is it?" He says, wishing he had thought to wear a watch.

"It's almost one, Steve. If you don't need anything , I'll see you tomorrow." Jesus, how time flew when you were having fun. That expression had always seemed a bit circumstantial, but this had been the shortest four hours of his entire life

He nods, even though she can't see him. "Yeah I'll see you. Be safe." That was just a blanket recommendation. Safe on the roads, safe walking up the stairs, and maybe safe in the bed if they so chose.

"You too. Bye," she says, a bit muffled like the phone is already being pulled away from her ear to hang up.

"Bye," he still says though, the phone clicking shortly after he turns to see Tony, nursing his whiskey and standing a few feet away, clearly trying not to eavesdrop. "I'm all done, if you're looking for a reason to come back over here."

Tony perks up, walking back over to Steve. "Like I don't have enough reasons, I mean, really." He reaches out and squeezes Steve's arm.

Steve laughs, pulling Tony closer with that same arm. "I think I'll still keep giving you reasons, if that's alright with you."

"Very all right with me," Tony says, hooking Steve's hand to pull Steve's champagne glass to his own lips, keeping direct eye contact the whole while. He licks his lips when he's done, and Steve desperately wants to drag him into one of the oddly large bathroom stalls and make out, maybe even more. He could if he wanted. He has the feeling that Tony would be an enthusiastic participant in such an activity. "You know, it's getting late enough that if we left, nobody would bat an eye."

Steve squeezes his hip gently. "Isn't the best man supposed to help clean up?" No matter how good of an idea it sounded to him, Tony did technically have duties or whatever.

He laughs, which is an unexpected outcome. "Oh honey, I'm paying people a lot of money to clean up for me. I'm talking a lot."

"Just like how much I'm going to charge you for the cake now that I know you're loaded," Steve teases, kissing his cheek softly.

"Rude! I would think I'd get a special discount for being pretty, right?" Tony protests, gently smoothing Steve's jacket with his hand. The simple action is almost enough to make Steve's knees go weak. He got what he wanted, and never thought he could have. What's better then that?

"Oh honey, I'll give you all the discounts you want," Steve says quietly.

"And I'll pay you for a thousand cakes," he says in an equally sappy tone. "Seriously though, how much do you want. Ten, fifteen?"

"Ten fifteen what?" Steve asks, furrowing his brow at Tony.

"Grand, sweetie," Tony responds with a sappy smile. "We can just go fifteen. It was a really fucking good cake."

Steve holds his hands up. "Woah woah woah, I can't ask you for that."

"You're not asking." His voice has a finality to it that Steve knows means there was no talking him out of the obscene number. Tony kisses him on the cheek. "Now do you wanna get out of here or what?" Tony runs Steve's suit jacket between his fingers with a suggestive glint in his beautiful eyes.

He would do anything Tony asked. "Yeah. I um, took my friends van here though, and I think he'll kill me if I leave it here overnight."

"That's fine. My driver can take my car up to my place." Tony hooks his arm in Steve's.

The money was probably going to take a while to get used to. Tony had a driver for Christ's sake. He could hire people to clean up an expensive and massive ballroom and pay Steve fifteen grand for a cake. Yeah, it would take a while to get used to, but he was happy for that while, assuming Tony even kept him around that long. Although, given the stern talking to from Pepper abd Rhodey, he assumed that Tony did actually like him quite a bit, however he managed that. "Sounds good. You wouldn't mind riding on a motorcycle though, would you?"

"Mind? I would kill to ride on the back of your motorcycle sweetheart." He gets a little spring in his step while he pulls Steve towards the back entrance Steve had come through at the beginning of the night.

At the time he had never imagined that Tony would be leaving with him. With anyone other than his wife. That's just how the cards are dealt though. They make the drive back in mostly silence, listening to the radio, but Tony keeps his hand in Steve's the whole ride back to Sam's. Steve parks it and climbs out, locking it behind them. He had already agreed with Sam to keep the keys until they saw each other again. "I only have the one helmet, so you're going to wear it," Steve says, swinging his leg over the seat and offering Tony the helmet that had been left on the handlebar.

"Now wait a minute, what about you honey bun?" Tony says, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Steve sighs. "I didn't anticipate another rider, so I only have one. I'll be fine, I promise." He pushes the helmet towards Tony with more force. "Just take it, please?" Must be his puppy dog eyes win Tony over because he takes it, despite appearing quite unhappy with the arrangement. He plops behind Steve, plastered firmly against his back, which Steve must say, he quite enjoys. "I'm gonna need you to give me directions," Steve says, running his thumb over one of the hands wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Okay," Tony mutters, clearly enjoying the closeness just as much as Steve. By the time they make it to Tony's house—which is apparently at the top of a massive tower with a stunning view of the city and the ocean—both of them are playing a game of chicken with brief touches and chaste pecks on the cheek. "The is my penthouse. The whole floor is private, and we're the only ones here tonight so." He waggles his eyebrows at Steve likes that's a completion to his sentence.

But when it comes down to it, isn't it? It gets the point across. "It's beautiful." Really though, he's just looking at Tony, and he knows that Tony knows that, because he's staring right back.

Steve takes the first step, cupping Tony's jaw and pulling him up into a real kiss. Tony's arms slide up around his neck, so really what's Steve to do other then what he does. He picks Tony up, clean right off the floor and carries him to the window. Tony's legs wrap naturally around his waist, but he's clearly entirely comfortable with the new position given the way he licks into Steve's mouth. He was beautiful, he really was. Like the stars in the sky or waves on a beach.

He could see himself getting used to this. And lots of cake in their future. Towering monsters, or one layer simple cakes, coffee cakes and pound cakes and lemon cakes and cupcakes. Yeah, he'll bake Tony as many goddamn cakes as he wants.