All or Nothing

The apartment, as it turns out, is not really an apartment at all. Over the course of a week a certain set of bright brown eyes had looked over every surface, googled the value of a flat in SHEILD, Las Vegas, and interrogated Bruce to the best of his ability. But his answers had been lack luster to say the least. His questions had gone from reasonably suspicious talk over the breakfast bar-“how did you afford to rent out the whole floor in the first place?”
“I work at the local raves and bars as a bouncer sometimes.”- To Tony trying to beat Bruce at his own game because no way was that a real answer. - “oh my god, Brucie are you a pimp? That explains so much, like that one time when you went out at 11:00 pm and didn’t comeback until two. What the hell dude? Who are you even pimping?”
“I’m not pimping anyone but if it makes you feel better I did set up two of my friends once. Besides how do you even know what pimping is?”
“I’m asexual not blind.”- But to no avail. It wasn’t like his roommate wasn’t a social person. Ok that was a lie Bruce, whatever his middle name is, Banner had no concept of social skills and it would have been a tad worrying if tony wasn’t confident that he could balance it out with his amazing personality and wonderful influence (which still hadn’t taken effect yet but whatever.) now he sat on one of the living rooms many beanbag seats and watched the seemingly always tired man cook pancakes. Even though he hadn’t gotten all of the answers the genius had gotten to know him a bit better so it wasn’t a total loss, and he didn’t have time to waste today on that anyway.
“Hey what am I supposed to wear for a job interview anyway?” Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed in thought as he placed the plates at the table.
“Well I know that usually you wear a suit or a dress or whatever but I don’t think Rogers going to care that much, if you haven’t already noticed the neighborhoods pretty close so just wear what fits with music I guess.” Now that was something he had noticed. When Tony had gone down to the hair salon during his job hunt he had been shocked by the amount of color combinations he saw. The owner of the place seemed like they might have been a girl but when tony asked they turned away from cutting someone’s hair and just said ‘Yes’ without anyone giving them a second glance, and then immediately asked how Tony did his hair. After a quick explanation of ‘I don’t use anything besides shampoo and conditioner’ the entire salon had gotten to work on fixing his apparently horrendous hair (he was a bit offended) while they talked to him about their jobs like they were having circle time in preschool. From there his job adventures had led to the discovery that this town was the polar opposite of his old place of residence. Instead of stuffy rooms and business suits the air here was ‘do ask do tell’ and no one cared how odd your answer was. Tony rolled off of the bean bag and took his seat at the table before devouring the pancakes faster than possible as Bruce read some poorly hidden fanfiction underneath the table. He looked up towards Tony suddenly as he took a fork full of pancake.
“What’s your favorite musical era?” Tony put down his glass of milk and gave him a questioning gaze. “I’ve never really thought about it but I guess I listen mostly to hard rock stuff. Why the sudden interrogation?” he said while stuffing another piece of pancake into his mouth.
“I’m quizzing you for the interview. If he asks you anything at all it’s going to be that since he’s mildly addicted to swing music and basically anything to do with the forties and fifties.” Walking to the kitchen he placed the dirty dishes in the sink, rolled up the sleeves on his sweater and looked only slightly annoyed when Tony put his plates in the sink after he started washing.
“I’m going to go put on a new shirt and then head out, wish me luck!” The ever helpful Brucie bear just gave him a nod and a small smile as he slid down the hall with his socks.

‘Walking down the street is quieter than I thought it would be too.’ The brown eyed man thought to himself as he looked back down at the piece of paper with the address to Rogers’s records that Bruce had given him after five failed attempts to get a job. It wasn’t that far so for now he just focused on the sound of people walking. The streets weren’t bustling with people, in fact so far he had counted thirty people, two dogs, and three cats. (Who walks their cat anyway? Weird.). The music in his headphones had died down to the smooth tones of Cab Calloway and Frank Sinatra a while ago and he was starting to see why his roommate’s friend liked it so much. Walking into the shop he paused the song and wrapped his headphones while he looked around. It looked vintage, not in the sense that everything was polaroid’s and sepia filters but in the sense that if your grandfather gave you a photo of him drinking a soda pop next to the jukebox in the corner it would look as if nothing had changed. Walking up to the counter Tony subtly coughed to get the attention of the black haired man sitting behind it.
“Hello there коротышка how can I help you?”
“I was told I could get a job here. My buddy Bruce sent me and-“
“You mean the science nerd? Steve told me he would be sending someone over today. Just stay right there and I’ll get him for you.” He interrupted, hopping off of the bar stool chair and reaching for his left arm.
“Do you need any help with that or…” Tony asked as he watched the man strap on his prosthetic. Walking towards the dark blue door in the back he called out over his shoulder- “its fine коротышка I’ve got it.” –and then he was gone. Whistling in front of the counter the lone customer decided to look around. If he was going to be here every day then it might help to memorize all of the small nooks and crannies of the place. And the black haired guy who he assumed would be his coworker wasn’t too bad looking either. (Even if Tony was pretty sure the dude insulted him.) Going through all the crates of records and shelf's of tapes it was quite obvious that the record shop was either vastly under stocked or a lot of people owned record players and Walkman’s. God he hoped he hadn’t just signed up for a job at the hipster hangout. Going to the back of the store he noticed a small sign next to a cardboard box.
‘If you happen to have any old music or music gear you don’t need please consider donating it to the shop for store credit.’
Well then, the geek in the corner had at least five copies of ‘the dark side of the moon’ back in his room that were going to go towards a good cause in the next few days. ‘I could probably buy a record player with all the unused headphones I have.’ he thought slowly making his way back to the counter of the technologically disabled store where he saw the guy with one arm had come back and was conversing with a tall blonde man in a tee shirt that was illegally tight and oh my god was that an ass if he ever saw one.
“You must be stark right? Bruce told me a lot about you.” the six pack said to him with a smile.
“Yep that’s me and you are?” walking back to the door he beckoned Tony to follow before answering the question.
“My names Captain Steve Rogers, but you can just call me Steve. By the way nice shirt” He said as they walked down the hall. “Well it’s very nice to meet you Captain. I hope Brucie hasn’t already scared you out of giving me a job.” he smirked, plopping down into a chair as they walked into what looked to be his office. Sitting behind his desk Steve looked towards him with a nervous smile that seemed to be aimed just behind Tony. Before he could figure out why Steve appeared to be trying to hide a laugh a small fluff ball jumped up into his lap.
“Aw hi there little dude, didn’t think I’d meet you here. Bruce mentioned you owned a dog but I thought it would be, well… bigger.” he said as the adorable black pug made itself comfy on his lap, content to lay there and be pet.
“Yeah most people get that impression but I couldn’t resist adopting Winter. Bruce and I were volunteering down by the shelter one day and he had this sad look in his eyes when they told us Winter was going to be put down soon if he didn’t get a home. He was too cute to refuse so I got one for when he comes by.” The mental image of his soft spoken roommate being surrounded by puppies was too cute. Also did Stevie boy call Winter cute or Bruce? Hmm... He’d have to file that thought away for now. “That’s adorable. So how are we supposed to do the whole interview crap anyway?”
“You know what, I think I know all I need to know. From what Bruce and Bucky have told me I think you’ll fit in fine.”
‘So that’s the counter man’s name.’ He looked up in surprise at the man behind the desk.
“Seriously? No questions about past jobs or anything? What if I’m secretly part of the Russian mafia or something?” Steve avoided his questioning gaze for a few moments and then gave him a look he couldn’t really read.
“As long as you make it here by nine and don’t leave till five Monday through Friday I don’t think that will be an issue.” And that was that. After a week or so of job hunting Tony almost-a-millionaire Stark had gotten a job in twenty minutes. Before he could say anything else the smooth sound of a saxophone suddenly pierced the air. Looking down to make sure his phone hadn’t accidentally turned on he looked back up to see Steve picking up his phone.
“Sorry about this. I’ll be right back.” He walked out of the room with an apologetic look towards tony, who looked down at the puppy toying with the end of his tee shirt. Going back to scratching behind the adorable pup’s ear he plugged back into the music and admired the wall of faded and coffee stained photos mixed in with shiny new ones on the wall behind his new boss’s desk, awaiting his return as he walked over to get a closer look with Winter in his arms.