“Seriously, what kind of tattoo shop doesn’t play rock music? What is this, the 40s?”
“Tones, I don’t think it’s all that serious—”
“It is when I have my new upstairs neighbors griping about my music like they’re some kind of hundred-year-old assholes. It’s a tattoo parlor.”
“And this is a flower shop. I’m pretty sure when they moved in the space above, they weren’t expecting AC/DC and Black Sabbath blaring through the vents, Tones.”
“It’s in the back room! And usually after hours! It’s not like it’s going on all day long.”
Rhodey rolled his eyes. “You forget our afterhours are probably their business hours.”
Tony huffed petulantly as he (carefully) stuffed another bunch of Rue into the arrangement in front of him. A noise complaint. A fucking noise complaint! He and Rhodey had been here the better part of five years and not once had they ever received any type of complaint! The sheer fucking audacity.
“You’re muttering.” Rhodes said in a sing-song tone that had Tony grinding his teeth together.
“I don’t mutter. I’m not.”
Was it actually a huge deal? Well… no. Maybe not. Tony could have possibly been persuaded to turn his music down a bit. Maybe. Truthfully, he probably could have been persuaded into doing much more unspeakable things, when that gorgeous tattoo covered, hulking blonde and his brooding, brunette partner (boyfriend?) had shown up at his door, far too attractive for Tony’s poor heart. They’d introduced themselves, warm and friendly. Had to be Brooklynites if the accents were anything to go off of. Tony had been… far, far too interested.
They’d said their spiel about the shop and the blonde one, (Steve) had given the genius an appraising glance and said something about hoping to see more of Tony now that they were neighbors. Tony had definitely wanted to see more of Steve. Sweet Tesla, was this lust-at-first sight? Wait a minute, had Rogers been openly coming on to him right in front of his possible boyfriend?
Kinky.
And well, that had been that. He and Bucky (seriously, what kind of name was that?) had said their goodbyes and Tony had gotten a front row seat to the ‘Rogers & Barnes Gun Show’ all week long while the two set up shop. Tony had figured things would go on as they did, maybe even better now with all the new man-candy around.
It took three whole days for Rogers to show up at his door. Afterhours of course because Rogers was such a gentleman.
Tony noticed small things at first. Sounds like knocking on the ceiling, sometimes louder than others. He’d just figured it was usual shop business, walking around or whatever the hell went on up there. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Then another day, Tony and Rhodey had come back to a grouchy sounding Barnes on their voicemail, muttering something about ‘Rogers driving me up the wall, naggin’ like an old maid’ in that growly timbre of his. He and Rhodey had just laughed it off and continued about their day.
Day Three brought Rogers to his doorstep.
It had been a particularly busy week for the shop and true to his workaholic nature, Tony had decided to stay and finish up their orders for the next couple of days. Institutionalized was blaring loudly throughout the shop, the jarring riffs and melody soothing to the brunette’s quickly fraying nerves. It wasn’t all that late, maybe 9 or 10 o’clock, when there was suddenly a loud knocking on the front door.
Tony nearly jumped out of his skin, almost toppling the large order he’d been concentrating on. Who the hell—
“Steve?” Tony blurted intelligently.
Sweet Tesla, the blonde rendered him monosyllabic. No one should be allowed to be that good looking. All heavily corded muscles, biceps for days and that tapered waist. And boy howdy, Tony was sure enjoying watching him bound up the stairs. Tony was possibly developing the most pathetic crush ever.
Oh god, he was gawking, Come on Stark, keep it together.
Tony plastered on a smile and leaned against the doorframe. “What can I do for you?”
The brunette saw the way Steve was schooling his expression into something nicer, could practically hear him counting back from ten. Well, well, well. Maybe he wasn’t such a cool cucumber after all.
“Uh, hi, Mr. Stark--”
“Tony, please.” Stark interrupted, if only to watch the way Steve’s stupid, marble sculpted jaw flexes.
“Tony, then. Listen, I’ve been tryin’ to be as polite as I can about it, but I guess the message never got across.”
A single chestnut eyebrow shot up. “Does this have something to do with that unintelligible, half-growled voicemail your boyfriend left us yesterday?”
The tips of Steve’s ears and high on his perfect cheekbones flushed a pretty pink. “Wait what? Buck—my boyfriend—no, no, uh wait, yes maybe. He called?” Steve spluttered. And god, Tony had to really chew his cheeks to not outright laugh.
Rogers ran a hand through his beard. “Yes, okay. Yeah. I uh, listen Tony, not that I’m not all for expressing yourself and stuff but uh, your music is just--- kinda loud. And… bad.”
Stark’s face contorted in confusion. Wait a damn minute-- “Excuse me?”
Rogers immediately put his palms up in a placating manner. “Uh, wait that, well, I was going to say that came out wrong but yeah, bad. I can’t hear myself think in my own office. It’s just disruptive. To myself and my clients. I was just wonderin’ if you could turn it down is all. The walls are kinda thin and I’m right on top of you.”
Whiskey eyes narrowed in disbelief. Was he serious right now?
Okay. Maybe, and that was a big ass maybe, Tony’s music was a little loud. Maybe. But bad? Rogers was up there crooning to the fucking Ink Spots (which, normally, Tony would admit to enjoying Jazz and Big Band music, but this wasn’t the time to be rational!) in a tattoo shop but had the audacity to come down here and insult him.
“No.”
It was Rogers’ turn to balk. “What do you mean no?”
“No. As in, ‘No, Rogers, I won’t turn down my music.’ No in that way.”
Was Tony being absolutely ridiculous? Yes. Even he could admit to that. But Rhodey wasn’t there to talk him off this metaphorical ledge, and Rogers just—something about him made Tony’s skin itch.
Steve’s Brooklyn accent was coming in strong. “Tony, I’m askin’ nicely. Doncha’ think you’re being a little unreasonable?”
Tony Stark, unreasonable? Pfft.
“No, actually, I don’t think I am. It’s after hours, I’m closed up and if you don’t mind, I have a lot of orders to finish up by tomorrow night so…”
They stared each other down for a good thirty seconds before Steve finally relented with a huff.
“Just keep it down.”
Tony couldn’t have rolled his eyes any harder had he actually tried, and he knew Rogers caught it just before he turned and jogged up the stairs.
Naturally, Tony turned his music up even louder.
If an arrangement of Rue and Bird’s-foot Trefoil ends up placed outside the door of Rogers’ shop, well… that was his business.
Things kind of, maybe sort of, escalated just a teensy bit from then on. Tony was definitely not all consumed with creating overtly passive-aggressive bouquets and arrangements and leaving them at the tattoo shops front door for the two boneheads to discover. Definitely not. He had a business to run after all, he definitely didn’t have time to be petty.
“So, going with the Basil wreath this time huh? Definitely subtle.” Rhodey said from over Tony’s shoulder.
“Of course it’s subtle. Do you honestly believe that it hasn’t crossed my mind that Rogers is probably finding these and has absolutely no idea of my ill-will and intent behind them. Come on, honey-bear, how many people do you actually know that are fluent in Victorian floriography? It’s all in the symbolism.”
“And don’t think I didn’t see the Dill and Roses. Orange and Coral, really?”
Tony only scoffed, refusing to acknowledge his chosen accents.
Was he probably wasting his time? Absolutely. Rogers was probably displaying these in his shop or simply discarding them. Did it matter to Tony? No, absolutely not.
It wasn’t until Tony turned to take a look at Rhodey that he noticed the man was covered in what looked like bread flour. Stark nearly toppled over with laughter.
“Have you been trying your hands at baking again?”
Rhodes dropped a folded, floury piece of paper on the table by Tony’s latest project. The words were written in black ink, a fountain pen maybe.
‘Thanks for the flours.’
“What in the actual hell is this?”
“I’m assuming you came in through the backdoor this morning. This,” he gestured to himself, “was left at the front, I’m guessing for you. So… I’m gonna go ahead and say that at least one of them knows what your lust fueled, passive-aggressive gifting spree is about.”
“This isn’t— you can’t even use the word flour in that way!”
Rhodey looked severely unimpressed, “That’s your biggest takeaway from all of this?”
Of course not. Not really. Tony’s biggest takeaway was the fact that this was an answer to his prodding. This—
“Oh no. I don’t like that look on your face, Tones— “
Was a declaration of war.
The proper arrangement had been made and delivered. It had been easy enough, and Tony was in at early hours of the morning to prepare the shop for sale hours. It had been hours before Rogers and Barnes arrived to find their unusual gifts.
This time, Tony had hidden a little special something in the bouquet. Nothing harmful, probably annoying as hell, but after the flour incident, like hell was he going to sit around and do nothing. Unfortunately for him, Rhodey found him just as he was trying to slink back through the front door, a suspicious little package right in Tony’s clutches. The genius grinned guiltily and shoved his hand in his pocket.
“Well look who showed up bright and early!”
Rhodes was definitely unimpressed.
“Let me see it.”
“See what, darling?”
Rhodey’s eyes rolled hard, and he set out his hand.
“Tony. I’ve known you for almost fifteen years. You really think you can keep anything secret from me? Give me the bag. Please tell me this has nothing to do with our neighbors upstairs.”
Stark bit his lip, unsuccessfully hiding the way they tried to twist into a grin. “Then I won’t tell you anything, sour-patch.”
“Tony—”
The brunette carefully handed him the little sealed package and Rhodes snorted.
“Jesus, Tony, how old are you? Where the hell did you even get this stuff?”
“Internet. Come on, it’s just a harmless little prank. Or did you already forget about the flour incident?”
“You are absolutely out of your mind. The smart thing to do is to not encourage this behavior.”
Tony shrugged as he leads the way inside. “Yeah, but where would be the fun in that?”
The next time Tony saw Rogers and Barnes, the darker haired man absolutely split a side laughing, while the other glared. If looks could kill, Tony would have been a dead man.
It didn’t take long for the pranking to get out of hand.
Rogers retaliated by stealing Tony’s OPEN sign from the front of the shop.
Tony hit him back by hot gluing a bunch of flowers to the shop windows.
When Rogers hit him back with his own itching powder (seriously, unoriginal), Tony got him back by saran-wrapping the man’s entire car. With about twenty rolls of the stuff. Rhodey definitely gave him an earful for that one.
Tony’s delivery door had been super-glued shut after that one. A little sticky note written in the same script as their first note was left just adjacent to the handle.
Fuck you. -BB
The brunette had even signed it with a little heart and everything. Turns out the car had actually belonged to Barnes and not Rogers.
Tony had been left staring mouth agape at the door, Rhodey laughing just behind him.
“I don’t know if the man is genius or an asshole. You definitely deserve it though. You better hope Pep decides to use the front door when she drops by today.”
And then Tony realized— “It was Barnes that pulled the first prank!”
A gala. There was always a fucking gala. Tony thought that he had left these stupid things behind when he decided to separate from Stark Industries and leave Pepper in charge. Unfortunately for him, it was still his name on the building and everything that came out of it and he was the poster child for all the charitable donations, it was his money after all. He’d just really been hoping that Pep would let him be and take the heat for him.
“Stop whining, it’s the first event you’ve been to in months and its important. They’re giving you an award and I’m not going to suffer being your stand in again. Plus… I think it’s about time you two meet her.” Pepper hummed as she smoothed down his collar.
Her. The mysterious woman that managed to catch Pepper’s attention and apparently keep it for quite some time. Pep was counting on Tony’s curiosity to outweigh his will to stay home (not that Pepper would allow it). Damn she was good. The genius threw his arms up in a petulant groan.
“God, fine. Fine. Only because I want to meet her. I haven’t even been able to snoop since you refuse to give me her name,” Stark pouted.
“And for good reason too, we all know how you get,” Rhodes (the traitor) added in, sharing a knowing grin with Pepper.
“Oh my god! It was one time! Once! And I was still young and stupid. Jeez, you accidentally blow your best friend’s shitty girlfriend’s mailbox up one time—”
“There was nothing accidental about it and you know it.” Rhodey pinched Tony’s cheek as he walked by. “But in all seriousness, it’s about damn time we get to meet your mystery woman.”
“Just promise me you’ll be on your best behavior.” Pepper threw the brunette a pleading look.
“What? What are you looking at me for? I’m always well behaved.”
Tony had done this song and dance so many times, he was sure he could sleepwalk down the red carpet and no one would even notice. Exit the car, smile, walk a few feet, stop, wave, let the cameras get a few good shots, continue on. Simple. Nothing out of the ordinary at this event, save for perhaps the usual tuxedos have been replaced with lots of dress uniforms.
Right then was probably not a good time to dwell on his love for uniformed men and women. Nope. Definitely not.
The hall was spectacular, as always, filled with all kinds of high-ranking brass and their spouses and dates. Tony was already eyeing the bar at the far side of the dance floor when the sharp pain of Pepper’s fingers twisting his side immediately derailed him.
“Ouch mother. What did I do this time?”
“Please for the love of God, Tony, wait until— Oh hi.”
Tony watched as Pepper is approached by an absolutely stunning redhead, curves perfectly accentuated by a sleek, elegant black dress. Both their faces went soft, and Tony knew this was the one. Pepper turned toward him and Rhodes, silently beckoning them forward.
“Natasha, these are my best friends, Tony and James.”
Rhodes was eloquent and polite as always, taking Natasha’s hand in a gentle squeeze as he greeted her.
Tony slapped on his winning press smile and just as he went to shake her hand, he spotted the two shadows flanking her.
“YOU! Why are you—what are you wearing—YOU!”
Oh boy, Pepper was so going to kill him.
Right behind Pep’s mystery woman was Steve-fucking-Rogers, looking like every iteration of Tony’s uniform kink-filled dreams. The blonde was dressed to the nines in Army Blues, medals and insignias glittering in the low lights of the hall. Just—No. This was absolutely not fair at all.
“Um, I didn’t know you two knew each other. If that were the case, we could have all been introduced sooner.” Pepper tried for a save but Tony was too busy gawking as Barnes also sauntered into view, looking far, far too attractive in his very own dress uniform.
What the actual fuck was going on here?
Rogers, to his credit, looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he and Tony stared each other down. Pepper’s girlfriend was friends with him?
Tony wasn’t sure, but he was almost certain that Rhodes was snickering somewhere behind him. Asshole. Why was Tony friends with him again?
Pepper was loudly clearing her throat and Tony snapped his attention back to her and her date, oh right. He was supposed to be behaving. To be fair, that was before he knew that Pep’s hot date was going to be bringing this douche-nozzle along. Tony still hadn’t gotten them back for their last prank they pulled on the shop. Seriously, who super-glues a back door?
“Mr. Stark.”
Tony’s whiskey eyes grazed over the many insignias and patches on the uniform coat. Jesus, the guy was more blinged out than a southern woman’s flip-flops.
“Captain Rogers.”
They were doing the thing again, those cornflower blues that have no business being as pretty as they are. To Rogers’ left, Barnes cleared his throat loudly.
“Sergeant Barnes. Good to see you aren’t all wrapped up at work.” Tony grinned innocently. Rhodes groaned loudly from somewhere to his left. Tony swore on Marie Curie that the corners of the other brunette man’s lips turned up in a grin.
“No thanks to you, Daddy Warbucks. How’s your back door situation?”
“Buck—” Steve chided, cheeks pink.
“Wait, this is the Tony Stark that y’all have been griping about? Like, the actual Tony Stark? Jesus Christ you two.” Natasha tacked on.
Tony to his credit, only smirked. Darn, looks like the cat was out of the bag, though who was he really kidding? Someone with a name as big as him could never keep it under wraps for long.
“I’m still waiting on the goop to get that mess off, at least it’s the back door.”
He watched as yet another decorated soldier stepped up to Barnes and elbowed him harshly just as the man began to open his mouth. Tony had absolutely no doubt it was to say something completely horrible.
“Don’t mind him. He only misbehaves when I’m not around.”
“Sam! It’s good to see you again, I’m glad everything got sorted out.” Pepper greeted the man (Sam, Tony catalogues) warmly.
“Hey, it’s all good. I’m just thankful for all the help from SI, y’all are really doing wonders for the program. Though I’m sure Tasha has already given you the scoop.” The soldier turned to Tony then, giving him a knowing look, and stuck out his hand. “Sam Wilson, Bucky’s told me plenty about you. Thank you by the way, for all the good laughs.”
Tony shook his hand and couldn’t help but grin. “Anytime, soldier.”
“Well, now that introductions are through, I think we should get to our table.” Pepper gave Tony a look that could only mean one thing.
Oh no.
The party all headed in the same direction and dread immediately settled in the pit of Tony’s stomach. How in the actual hell did Pepper expect him to behave all evening when he had to be surrounded by those two boneheads?
He definitely needed a drink now. Or maybe ten.
Tony split off from the group to get his drink, tossing back a shot at the bar counter just for good measure. As he made his way back, he realized that his decision had been a mistake. The only seat left at the table was right between Rhodey and Rogers. Fuck.
The mechanic stopped beside his best friend, all pretty smiles and fluttering lashes.
“I already know what you want, and the answer is no. As if I would give up the opportunity to watch you squirm.”
Stark yet again found himself wondering why Rhodes was his best friend.
Pouting, Tony turned to glare at Rogers, who was obnoxiously spread out in his seat. “Move.”
Rogers found his gaze and with a secretive, little shit-eating grin, he replied, “No.” Immediately taking Tony back to the night the artist had shown up at his door. They stared at each other for longer than was probably considered appropriate before Tony rolled his eyes and forced his way into Steve’s space.
“Dick.” The genius mumbled as Rhodey covered his laugh by taking a sip of his own drink.
If Tony “accidentally” elbowed Rogers as he squeezed into the space between the two vets, well, the blonde didn’t make a peep about it.
It was a tight fit, even with Tony being smaller than both of them and it was absolutely annoying. Tony learned quickly that the Captain was an expressive talker. The man’s large, tattooed hands gesticulated exaggeratedly as he spoke, coming close to knocking Tony’s glass over more than a few times. Rogers knocked knees with him below the table, which of course, caused Tony to retaliate in the same manner. They were all but pushing and shoving childishly until Natasha cleared her throat loudly, their other tablemates staring at them with mixed reactions.
Bucky and Sam both looked exasperated but amused. Pepper… well, it was a little harder to read her but it was somewhere between embarrassed and annoyed. Natasha was absolutely neutral, and it threw Tony off for sure. Still, the blonde beside him finally sat up properly and Tony hated that he noted the lack of warmth nearly immediately.
Aside from their little pissing match, the rest of the night went on fairly well. Bucky, Sam, and Natasha made for great company and as glasses were drained with more frequency, Tony found himself relaxing.
Tony wasn’t sure if it was all the bourbon he’d put down or if he’d been reading it wrong but… he was pretty sure that Bucky and Sam had been making goo-goo eyes at each other whenever they thought no one was looking.
Wasn’t Bucky with Rogers?
Before Tony could ask, he heard his name being called over the PA system and he sighed heavily as the table (even Rogers) raucously cheered him on as he tried not to stumble towards the stage. He gave a speech. People cheered. They handed him some kind of award (Tony had lost count of them by now, he didn’t really care) and he headed back over to hand it to Pepper before informing the others he was going for another round of celebratory drinks.
Tony nearly jumped out of his skin when Rogers took the space at the bar next to him.
“Captain.”
“Mr. Stark.”
“I told you, it’s Tony. What do you want?” Tony asked suspiciously. Aside from their shoving match, the two hadn’t really interacted much, unless engaging in somewhat heated debates counted.
Rogers hummed thoughtfully, not looking at him directly. “Tony, then. Figured you could use help with the round.”
“Uh-huh. So kind of—”
“And I just wanted to say thank you. For, you know, all of this.” Rogers interrupted him, leaving Tony speechless.
The blonde took the tray of drinks on his own, Tony too stunned to protest. What—what just happened? Where had that come from?
As it were, Tony found out that night that Barnes was sporting Stark Tech beneath his uniform, a prosthetic that the genius had designed and created with his own hands, and that with the help the two had received from SI’s work with the VA, Barnes and Rogers had been able to finally open up their shop.
By the end of the night, Tony went home with the knowledge that Rogers was definitely single, something that was not good for his stupid, pointless bourgeoning crush.
The following week, Tony was in a rut and he didn’t know why he couldn’t stop thinking about Rogers thanking him at the gala.
“My god, you’ve got it so bad.” Pepper huffed, a knowing smile on her face.
Tony went on the defensive before he could stop himself. “I most certainly do not.” He tightened the bow on the final arrangement with a little too much force. “And even if I did… I mean, you’ve seen what he looks like, who wouldn’t wanna climb that like a tree.”
Pepper just gave him a look and Tony ignored it. He did not have it bad. It was just—lust at first sight. So what if Tony had wandered into the tattoo shop one night that Rogers wasn’t in and immediately fallen in love with the man’s art. What? The blonde was a great artist, Tony could admit that. The fact that all the flowers Tony had sent in his passive-aggressive gifting spree were dried and hung in the man’s workstation, didn’t matter at all.
Pepper came over and settled a hand on his shoulder. “You know, despite the fact that you two seem to get along as well as cats and dogs, both Nat and Sam are sure that Rogers has it just as bad. Just… something to think about.” She gave his shoulder a tight squeeze before packing up, definitely leaving Tony with lots to think about.
There was no way. They’d barely ever interacted with one another.
It was wishful thinking.
Tony finally finished for the day sometime around nine or ten at night. He was doing his usual rounds, tidying up the front of the shop before making his way over to set the alarm near the front door.
The genius was surprised when he saw the large figure of the Captain looming beneath his awning. What the hell was he doing here? Was he holding— “Rogers?”
“Tony. Hi.” Rogers thrusted the slightly wilting, saran-wrapped bouquet at the brunette. “Buck said to give these to you. He said you would know what they mean, because honestly, I have no idea what the hell is going on here.”
Tony took the flowers gingerly, amber eyes appraising the arrangement. It was no prize-winning thing but the flowers were clearly chosen with purpose. Jonquils and orange roses; wait, what?
“These are from Barnes?” Tony asked slowly, brow furrowing in confusion. But Bucky and Sam were an item, so— Tony spotted the bright red sticky note smooshed between layers of plastic, a much messier scrawl this time.
Just to be clear, these aren’t from me. They’re from Steve. He helped picked them out. You should know what they mean. He’s… shy. Please for the love of god, get him outta the apartment sometime, he’s driving us crazy. —BB
PS: I’m sorry or whatever. Don’t super glue our door shut.
Tony could feel the blush spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and he felt Rogers staring at him expectantly. Oh, right, he’d been standing there like an idiot.
“So,” Tony began, raising the bouquet to take in the sweet, floral scent, “you helped pick these out, hm?”
Immediately the blonde’s face became a mirror image of what he was sure his looked like, a large, tattooed hand coming up to rub at the back of the soldier’s neck.
“I— yeah. Suppose I did.”
They shared a heated look, Tony absolutely giddy with the way Rogers eyes briefly glinted with poorly-concealed desire. Oh yeah, he was definitely going for it. After months on end of uselessly pining and passive-aggressively gifting, Tony finally got the confirmation he needed. Tony hugged the bouquet to his chest, hip perching on the frame of the door.
“So, Captain, would you like to come inside?”
“God, yes.”
Things were mostly the same in the time that followed, save for a couple exceptions.
Rhodey and Tony showed up early in the morning, sometimes stumbling on little doodles on sticky notes stuck onto the front door of the shop. Sometimes it was full-on paintings or sketches that they hung on the walls.
Tony still left the boys flowers; the fresh arrangements ever present in the shop. Thankfully, with much less passive-aggressive meanings those days.
Tony and Steve shared lingering kisses in the stairwell whenever they could and occasionally defiled the flower shop’s back room late at night.
And if Tony was sporting a colorful sleeve of tattooed flowers a few years later, some of which matched a certain blue-eyed soldier, well, that was his business.