Mistaken Identities (II)
Later in the day, as Pepper is wrangling Tony into a tie for a charity event, tutting at the state of his goatee, she asks him where he was that caused him to miss two meetings and a call-in.
He lies and says he was at a Starbucks and lost track of time running from the paparazzi.
---
He doesn’t mean to go back to the cafe. Wait, scratch that, he really wants to go back to the cafe but he knows he shouldn’t. That he should keep his distance from this man who thinks he is another man. That maybe he should try and actually be a good CEO and pay attention to his stock prices than assuming everyone loves Tony Stark and his inventions that ranged from cell phones that never dropped a call to sleeping bags that folded up smaller than a laptop.
Which is why he is a little confused the next day when his feet take him from the prototype lab a quarter to ten, walk him outside for three blocks, and he is suddenly sitting at the same table. It’s almost a repeat of yesterday, only his black coffee is in a porcelain glass and a pair of biscotti are sitting on a plate.
When ten passes, and it’s almost ten-fifteen, Tony shrugged back the feeling of betrayal. Technically, literally, he had only met the man once and Tony wasn’t even the person Steve was supposed to meet. No skin off his nose, he thought while picking up one of the pastries dipped in chocolate. He swirled it around in the coffee for a moment, just to soften it so he wouldn’t break his teeth, and stuck half of it in his mouth while staring down at his tablet. He might as well make it a productive break so the board will leave him alone for the rest of the week.
“Ahhh, um, hey, Jim?”
Tony turned to the left and took in the man who was awkwardly shifting with his own cup of coffee in hand, his fingers paused over the touchscreen. He sucked on the pastry to get rid of the excess coffee and bit off the end, dropping it on his plate and brushing off his fingers on the napkin. This was the perfect time to explain who he was, that he wasn’t Jim, that he had lied. That he was a lying liar who lied.
“Oh, hey, Steve, what’s going on? I was waiting for you, thought you weren’t showing up. Busy at work?” Tony was nothing but an idiot who loved digging his multiple graves deeper.
After a brief moment of silence from Steve, Tony was too busy sucking on his index finger to remove a distracting smudge of chocolate, the other man took his seat (when did it become his seat?) and they idly talked about a new movie that opened and how it didn’t live up to the book. When Steve took the other biscotti before leaving, grinning and turning left instead of following Tony right, he left behind the promise to see each other later.
All in all, it was pretty great day.
Tony was screwed.
---
This third time Tony meets Steve as Jim he’s late due to an unexpected crisis at one of the new developments, mostly due to the sudden toluene contamination found at ten-feet below surface level where the foundation was going to be placed. Very messy, very smelly, and it was going to cost a lot of money to fix. So he was less than his best when he glanced through the cafe windows before entering to find Steve staring sadly down at an open notebook, empty cup in front of him, and making movements like he was about to leave.
Steve stood just as Tony pushed open the door, hefting his bag over his shoulder, but paused when he saw the other man.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Tony gushed, stepping over to grab the cup of coffee a barista had poured for him, “I got caught up in...recruiting stuff and lost track of the time.” He nodded thanks when another person behind the counter handed him a delicate looking cupcake, dark brown with a green-tinted frosting on top sprinkled with chocolate chips. Someone here definitely knew he was Tony Stark, and thus knew of his love affair with anything chocolate.
“Oh, I thought you forgot...” Steve gave a small smile, sitting back down and dropping his bag on the ground near his feet. “It seems like everyone around here is running around with only one thing on their mind, caring more about making a quick buck than talking to people.” He looked out at the street at the people quickly walking, dressed in pressed suits with cell phones attached to their heads, and the smile slid off his face, “Kinda makes you sad thinking about all the great things they're missing right around them, too busy making millions I guess?"
Tony gave a shaky smile as he balanced the coffee and cupcake, covering the clatter of the dishware on the table with a little cough. “Well, it’s not all bad around here, I mean, we’re both working here, right?” Oh god, oh god, did Jim actually work here full-time or what? Tony couldn’t remember if Jim was a recruiter full-time or when he was back from Afghanistan? Did Jim even fight across the sea? This was all going to blow up in his-
“I guess so,” Steve shrugged, tracing his finger around the rim of his empty cup, “but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He frowned sullenly out the window, his chiseled features highlighted by the interior lighting and the sunlight coming from the other side.
Tony wished he could be Jim just so he could stare at Steve when he became all righteous-y and “Captain American”-like. As if he could fix the issues of everyone by just guilt-tripping them into being nice to each other.
“Anyway, I was wondering when you were going to log-in for a game? I mean, obviously you’re back from overseas and...alive? I miss having my war machine tank to take everyone out behind me so I can run recklessly forward to the loot.” Steve teased, hooking his finger under the cupcake plate to pull it more towards the center, grinning when Tony seamlessly traded the fork when the blond held his hand out. “It’s not the same without you.”
And Tony just wanted to tell Steve everything. Let him know about his inventions (explaining the difference between a tablet and a netbook), take him to all the strange places he just knew Steve would enjoy (Steve loved art, even though he was ex-Army). Possibly buy one of every pastry in New York if it would make Steve as happy as he seemed right now, poking the cupcake with a look of fierce determination. Maybe see if Steve was okay with Tony liking him way more than appropriately after only three coffees.
Most of all, he wanted to tell Steve who he really was: Not Jim, not Steve’s friend, but Tony Stark: the man who lied to make a friend because it was the only way he knew how.
Instead he nodded his head and stuck his finger in the frosting to grab a large dollop and pop it in his mouth to savor the mint-flavor. “I’ve been really busy with work. I’ll try to get on later in the week when it clears up. Man, I don’t know how those business-guys do it."
---
“Hey, it’s me, how are you?”
Steve shoved the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he pushed his laptop into his satchel. “Yeah, yeah?” He waved at one of his students who was also leaving later in the day, probably held back by after school activities. “That sounds...fun? I guess, if you’re into torturing yourself with- What? No, he’s not a creep.
“Listen, Buck, I think you’re being ridiculous. I’ve met him. He’s...nice.” Steve stumbled, thinking of thick eyelashes and a quick tongue chasing crumbs off plush lips and- “I mean, you’re the one who asked him to meet you.” Steve walked outside and towards the subway staircase, trying to chase away thoughts of what Jim was doing, if he was drinking a cup of coffee sitting behind a recruiting desk helping kids join the Army. For some reason Steve was having trouble placing the charismatic man in the good suits there; Jim seemed like the type of man who would have more fun leading a board meeting or building things, always moving.
He frowned at the accusatory tone that bled from the speakers, shaking himself from scattered daydreams of Jim pulling his long silk tie off with a flirty wink. As if that would ever happen.
“Yes, of course it’s him. He had the red Starkpad-thing you told me about?” Steve waited for his friend to doubtfully confirm on the other side, “ I mean, you told me they were a limited run of only a thousand across the world. I highly doubt there would be a totally random stranger at the cafe you told Jim to go to, at the exact time you told him to meet you there, with the red Starkpad that almost nobody has?”
“I just think you should come meet him in person. I mean, he was there when I couldn’t be, too busy getting my Masters and trying to find a job. You know you wouldn’t have the same range of motion in your hand if you didn’t play that stupid shooting game with him.”
Steve sighed, starting down the stairs to the subway that would take him back to Queens. “I’m only doing this for you. I really don’t want to keep up the charade; someone is going to get hurt.” Steve knew it was going to be him once Bucky manned up and finally met Jim like he was supposed to from the beginning. They had a much longer history, and he knew Bucky had a mini-crush on the man he had spent multiple hours online shooting down other players while recovering from a shrapnel wound.
The sad fact was that there was really no hope of Jim picking Steve over Bucky if given the choice.
“Listen, I’ve got to go. Getting on the subway now. I’ll talk to you later, Bucky. You are coming next time we meet. I’ll see you at the end of the line.”