#this is so messy and poorly structured but we ove!

[bruciewayne]

bright pink post-its

stevetony, 1k, fluff, secret admirer

-

When Steve comes into work on Monday morning, Bucky’s at his desk, feet up on top of rough sketches and vague briefs. And making his way through a box of Guylian Seashells.

“Those were for me, weren’t they?”

Bucky, ever generous, tosses him one of the chocolates, “Yuh huh.”

“Then why are half of them in your mouth?” Steve pokes him as he sets down his bag. He would just push him, but in an area with lots of expensive computers and tablets, not even a full week since HR’s mandated ‘appropriate workplace behaviour’ seminar? It would be one of his most ill-advised actions in StarkStudios (and that’s including the one time he accidentally, almost, deleted the all the final character designs for a game during his internship all those years ago. (It had been a week from launch, his first one, so, naturally, the CEO had been walking around and making sure everything was running smoothly. (That had been the first time he met Pepper Potts.)) (In his defence, Tony Stark had been running around, probably more stressed than all of them, and there was just something about an attractive, genius, billionaire, who also happened to be his boss, that made fresh-out-of-college-Steve absolutely and utterly terrified, and a terrified artist is a terrible artist.))

But maybe the warning would be worth it.

“Finders keepers!” Bucky replies gleefully, “But also because you have a note.”

“Again?”

“Are you gonna act surprised every time?”

Steve rolls his eyes. It doesn’t take long for him to find the bright pink post-it stuck on the lid.

Because I admire you, and you deserve it, and you work too hard, your secret admirer

Unfortunately for Bucky, this note, and all the ones from earlier in the week, was typed so he couldn’t go on a handwriting analysis spree.

Steve feels his face heat up and his prayers that Bucky doesn’t notice go ignored as Bucky jeers good-naturedly and slaps him on the back as he gets up, and of course this commotion means everyone in their department just has to come to look (Clint, the absolute bastard, nevermind how good he is at debugging, is already filming. Steve’s just about ecstatic to see it on his story later.).

“Secret admirer strikes again?” Natasha asks, stealing a chocolate.

Steve just nods, but Bucky launches into a spiel about how disappointed he is in the admirer, “I mean, the first note rhymed right? And it was a cute poem, but now…”

“The first note was just a heart,” Steve says, correcting him without thinking and pulls open one of his desk drawers to reveal a stack of neon-pink post-its, flicks through the pile to the oldest, and shows him proudly: a sharpie heart. On that day, his ‘secret admirer’ had left him a croissant from the bakery down the street.

Bucky looks at him incredulously, which is absurd, really, considering the amount of times he’s wrong. “You kept them!?”

Steve can’t hide the flush that floods his face, ears, and disappears long below his collar.

Bucky groans, “Oh my god, you don’t even know the name of this person and you’re whipped.”

“Go back to work,” Steve grumbles, pushing him out of his corner of the bullpen.

The next day, there’s a single red rose in a tall glass, bright pink post-it accompanying it atop new briefs for the day, wishing him a good day. This time, Bucky doesn’t even poke fun, not verbally, but he does give him a Look.

“You know who it is?” Clint asks, during their lunch break.

“Who?”

Clint also gives him a look, eerily similar to Bucky, “Clueless is a better look on Scott.”

“If they wanted me to know, they would sign their name,” Steve says, simply.

Clint mimics him under his breath, as he takes a bite of his hot pocket, and immediate burns his mouth and consequently knocks over his coffee, probably burning his foot in the process. Steve just sighs and switches the ‘Days Since Tomfoolery’ sign to zero.

It takes almost a week and a half for Natasha to approach him about it. In all honesty, it had scared him a little, how little she’d commented on it before.

“I know who it is,” she tells him, stealing a carrot stick as she leans against his desk. 

“Oh, do tell,” Steve says, putting down his tablet pen and resting his head on his chin.

“Tony Stark.”

Steve just raises his eyebrows, “Head of the entire fucking company, Romanoff, you’re getting slow.”

“What other rich person do you know that prints post-its?” Natasha points out. “And you’re the only one he calls by their first name.”

“That’s because I’m a department manager.”

“Mmm hmm, whatever you say,” Natasha says, walking away.

Steve’s the last one left on the floor, long after the sun has set, and the cleaners have made their rounds, just trying to get in the final details of one of the characters, eyes practically screaming at him, when someone comes up to him from behind and drops a pink post-it on top of his tablet, this time handwritten in sharp capitals.

Come home with me?

Steve’s smiling before he even sees him. 

“Come home?” Tony asks, running a hand through his hair. Steve leans into the touch, comforted by it.

“With you?” Always.”

Tony laughs lightly, dropping into Steve’s lap to kiss him, “God, you’re so cheesy.”

“You’ve-- mmm --given me love notes for two weeks,” Steve counters, pulling him closer.

“You kept them,” Tony says, in between kisses, winding his hands through Steve’s hair - he’s due for a cut, but Tony’s not going to be the one to push him for one.

“You declared your love for me in public,” Steve says, softly, smiling as he kisses Tony’s cheek sweetly, a contrast to before.

“Hardly,” Tony disputes, bitterness and shame polluting his voice.

“More than enough,” Steve corrects, cupping his face.

“You do deserve better, better than that.”

Maybe that, something so deeply ingrained into Tony, it’s almost on par with loving Steve, is true, maybe it's so absurd, as foreign as not loving Tony, that it is, in fact, the opposite that is an indisputable fact, maybe they move past it, when rings are exchanged and vows are spoken, or maybe they ever do, and the most intense, incredible relationship they’ve had stays entirely obscured to anyone but themselves, but there’s no scenario, not from now, where he is living a life without him, and it should terrify him to his core, and it would, if he didn’t, contradictingly, know with full confidence and absolute certainty, that he felt the same way.

happy steve bingo