#today we mostly ran errands together and helped a couple down the street move some free shelves

[sameteeth]

i cant always tell when ppl r flirting or doing things that feel Different than Strictly Platonic but sometimes. sometimes i wonder abt things

[veiljumpernyssa]

Luceo non Uro - Chapter 3

Memento vivere (Remember to live)

Relationships: Asra/Apprentice

Rating: Mature

| Read on Ao3 |

~

Vesuvia never had winter in the truest sense of the word. Not like the South, where snow covered entire towns and cities in icy blankets, and you could go days without seeing sunlight. In Vesuvia winter came in gusts of wind and chilly rain, and it was usually gone almost as quickly as it came--chased away by dry and sluggish summer.

The winter after Daya’s third encounter with Asra clung to the city for what seemed like forever. Even as the last month rolled around, the wind still howled around the streets accompanied by smatterings of rain, and you were lucky if you caught the sun peeking out between an endless blanket of grey clouds.

Today was no exception.

Gusts of wind pulled at Daya’s scarf and thick pants as she wandered the market, shopping list clutched in hand. The place was emptier than usual, but that wasn’t saying much. It was still crowded enough she had to step carefully lest she tread on toes or skirts. A sea of faces; some recognisable, but mostly strangers.

For a moment she considered turning around and going home. She was a child of summer after all, and the cold had worn out its welcome two months ago. But then -- she caught sight of a tousled white head, and her heart skipped a beat.

Could it be...him?

Daya’s feet carried her forward without thinking, her eyes focused on the white. A flash of a young face and violet eyes -- he had his back to her, wandering from stall to stall with a leisurely air, touched by neither the crowd nor the wind chill.

It was him, she thought, and her heart began to pound. It was Asra.

“Asra!” she called and he stopped, head turning this way and that. Then a shoulder bumped into her hard enough to make her drop the shopping list. By the time she scrambled to retrieve it, he was gone.

“Damn!”

Daya shoved the list into her pocket and pushed forward angrily, glaring at the man who’d sideswiped her. A quick scan of the crowd showed no sign of Asra, and she gritted her teeth in frustration. How exactly a person with such distinctive looks could disappear so quickly was a mystery. Or maybe it was--quite literally--magic.

Shouts reached her ears, accompanied by the sound of heavy footsteps, and the press of people swept her forward in a sudden panic. Something was happening behind them, and whatever--or whoever-- made several people forward and away in haste.

Daya squeezed her way past an elderly couple and stood on tiptoes to look around for Asra one more time. It had already been over six months since the Masquerade, and she’d never seen him in town before. If she lost him in the crowd it could be another six before she saw him again.

Another shoulder bumped her roughly. Daya staggered back--but instead of cobblestone street, her foot met air.

In that split second she tensed with terror, arms windmilling to keep her balance. Below was the canal, dirty and cold and nigh impossible to climb out of without help.

She overbalanced, crying out as she fell--then stopped with a rough jerk, her feet slipping for purchase on the wet cobblestones. Disoriented, it took her a few seconds to realise there were large hands gripping her wrists, holding them securely. Her gaze darted upward, from the hands to the worn tunic and broad chest, then several inches above.

A pair of green eyes peered at her from a black mane of hair. The face was young, barely into adulthood, with the faintest suggestion of dark scruff on their chin.

“Nice catch, Muriel,” said a familiar voice, and Daya leaned to the side. There was Asra, beaming at them, his face half covered by a voluminous purple scarf.

For a moment Daya simply stared in surprise, glancing from Asra to the young man who held her.

“You’re Muriel?” she said eventually, drinking him in. “Wow.”

Asra laughed, and a flush spread over Muriel’s fair cheeks. He grunted, stepped back and let her go, steadying her with one hand on her shoulder.

“It’s good to you see you, Daya,” Asra said. He wrapped her in a hug, laying his chin on her shoulder. “How have you been?”

“I--uh.” Daya glanced at Muriel, only to see him stiffen. He was looking over their heads, and there was something like fear on his face.

“He’s coming,” he said gruffly. Urgently, Daya thought, as she followed his gaze. “Hurry. He’ll see us.”

Asra glanced in the same direction, and his eyes narrowed.

“Come on, Daya,” he said. “Let’s get out of the street.”

Without waiting for a reply he pulled her towards a little side alley near the market steps. Muriel followed, his hands clutching nervously at his cloak.

The alley was little more than a space between two market stalls set up under a crumbling stone arch. Daya leaned against it  and peeked back out at the market, where the crowd continued to thin out.

“Who are you talking about?” she asked, but Asra put a finger to his lips. Shoulder to shoulder, they watched.

A guard passed. Then two. Then three. Then--a tall figure clad in brilliant scarlet, with a flowing cape that flapped almost comically in the wind. Daya caught a striking profile and slicked blonde hair before they passed out of view.

“Count Lucio,” Asra whispered in her ear.

Daya craned her neck to catch another glimpse at the man as he passed with his retinue. She’d never seen the Count in all their comings and goings in Vesuvia. She knew only two things about him: that he was spoken of with fear, and that he threw the Masquerade parties in honour of his own birthday.

The Count’s footsteps faded and Asra visibly relaxed.

“He’s gone,” he said to Muriel, who was standing further back in shadow.

Muriel didn’t move. He was still staring out into the marketplace, a furrow between his brows, and his fingers curled reflexively in his cloak.

Daya approached him curiously, and his eyes snapped to her face.

“So you’re Asra’s friend. You know, he’s told me next to nothing about you.”

“That’s not true,” Asra said in the background. “Is it? I must have.”

“Only that he helps you create those beautiful masks,” Daya replied, glancing at him. She turned and smiled up at Muriel, who looked like he didn’t quite know what to make of her. “So, thanks for catching me.”

He mumbled something suspiciously like ‘you’re welcome.’

“And you’re...definitely not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” Asra said, as he came up behind them. He slid an arm arround Daya’s waist and gave her a little squeeze.

“Someone like you, I guess.” She tried to ignore the sudden quickening of her heartbeat at the warm weight of his head on her shoulder. “Are you a magician too, Muriel?”

“No.”

“That’s not true,” Asra said admonishingly. “He’s just being modest. He’s really good at protection charms and casting the runes.”

An awkward silence fell. Muriel pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and scuffed his worn boots on the cobblestones. Daya exchanged a glance with Asra, wondering how they could have possibly met. Muriel seemed the least likely person to be friends with...well, with anyone.

“Anyway, this is Dayana,” Asra said to his friend. “Daya, this is Muriel. He’s my oldest friend. I’ve known him since I was...what, six years old?”

“Seven.”

“We met after Muriel ran afoul of the Count one time…”

“Asra,” Muriel rumbled. His dark brows drew together; he looked away when Daya gave him a questioning glance.

Asra smiled and patted his arm. “You can trust Daya. They’ve been good to me.”

“I’m very trustworthy,” Daya said cheekily. “I’m a fortune-teller. Utmost discretion at all times.”

Muriel looked doubtful, but nodded, and Asra turned back to Daya. “Out of curiosity...why were you at the market? Running errands...or perhaps avoiding them?”

“Why do you always assume I’m getting into trouble?” she replied, and he laughed. “It’s my birthday, if you must know, and I have the day off.”

A smile lit up his face. “Is it really?”

“Yes, and I’m celebrating by breathing the first fresh air I’ve had in a week.”

“Aw, that’s not all, is it? Come on, let’s do something together.” He beamed enthusiastically at her. “What do you say?”

Daya felt the tips of her ears redden and surreptitiously pulled up her hood.  

“I’d like that,” she said finally, and returned the smile.

Asra grinned up at Muriel. “Come on. Come join us.”

Muriel glanced down at the two of them; at Asra’s arm around her. He shook his head.

Asra looked confused.

“Why not?” he asked. “Daya doesn’t mind...do you?”

She did mind a little, but it felt rude to say. “No, of course not!”

“Too many people,” Muriel grunted, his gaze fixed on the ground. “I want to go.”

“Alright,” Asra said, though he looked disappointed. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

Without another word Muriel turned and shuffled back down the alley, further into the darkness.

Daya frowned. “Is he...okay?”

Asra stared after Muriel as his footsteps faded. Then he sighed and turned back to her.

“He’ll be alright,” he said. “The crowds are hard enough for him, but...I think seeing the Count really scared him.”

“What could the Count of Vesuvia possibly want with him?”

“It’s a long story, and..it’s not really mine to tell.” Asra looked into her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see him again at home. In the meantime, we have the whole day to ourselves. We should enjoy it.”

Asra led her back into the market. Count Lucio was long gone; the crowds had returned with more volume than ever. Sun had broken through the clouds, streaming onto upturned faces and making the canal waters glitter.

“You should stay close,” he said into her ear. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He took her hand. There went her heart again, skipping a beat at the warmth of Asra’s fingers. His grip tightened and their fingers entwined, and her heart thundered in their ears.

She had missed his little touches. There was something different about them now, but perhaps that was what happened after she hadn’t seen him for eight months. Or perhaps it was something else.

She didn’t particularly feel comfortable thinking too much about that. Not until she was sure what this meant.

Asra smiled at her, caught in a sunbeam that lit up his skin in shades of gold.

“No Faust today?” Daya said hopefully, if only to distract from her blushing face.

He shook his head. “She sleeps a lot this time of year. Winter makes her grumpy.”

The people began to thin out gradually as they walked, but their hands remained entwined. Not that she was complaining. Quite the opposite.

“I used to live in this district,” Daya said, as their footsteps echoed down another little side street.

“Oh?” Asra said. “Huh, I guess I thought you always lived at the shop.”

“No, the shop has always belonged to my aunt. My parents had a house around here, but it’s probably gone now. When they died, she took me in.”

Daya remembered the day vividly: her aunt’s voice as she packed mementos into a box. The numbness that overtook her mind, dispersing the heavy sadness in her stomach...leaving only an ache to feel something; anything. Her aunt’s hand in hers as they left the house behind, with only a box of objects and a bag of clothes. Everything else had to be burned.

The sting of air hit Daya’s face, whipping the curls out of her eyes. She breathed in deep and sighed at the salty smell.

“You’re bringing me to the docks,” she said in delight.

“Sort of,” Asra replied, but he didn’t elaborate--only quickened his pace.

They followed the canals as they began to widen and spread farther apart, and the buildings grew shabbier. Quick, then quicker they walked--then trotted--then finally ran, laughing into the chilled wind.

“This way!” Asra shouted, and pulled his hand away. He surged ahead, boots pounding on the boardwalk. Heart hammering, Daya followed.

The wind whipped at her thick clothes, tearing the breath from her lungs, but it was sunny and fresh and wonderfully briny air. Before them the Vesuvian bay opened up to clear waters; the silhouettes of fishing boats showed hazy against the horizon.

Was he going to jump into the water, Daya wondered suddenly--then with a laugh he leapt off the pier and vanished.

Daya skidded to a halt, almost falling over the edge in her haste. “Whoa!”

“Down here!” came Asra’s voice from below.

Cautiously she sat and swung her legs over the edge, crying out as a hand grabbed her ankle--then his face appeared by her boot, grinning mischievously.

“Did I startle you, Daya?”

“That is not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” He held out his hands. “Come on. You trust me, don’t you?”

Daya rolled her eyes, but let him help her down.

Underneath the docks it was dark, cold, and the air smelled strongly of brine and rotting fish. Asra’s arms lingered around her waist for a few seconds longer. He was so close; enough to see the curl of his white eyelashes on his cheek.

“Can you feel that?” he whispered.

Daya closed her eyes and cast out her senses.

At first it was a little whisper at the edge of her awareness, like a breath ghosting over her skin. Then a bloom of light; orange and purple and blue, swirling in ephemeral colours.

She opened her eyes and squinted. There was a glowing outline in the air before them, shaped like an arch similar to the ones in the marketplace. It was impossible to see beyond the entrance to the room beyond. Only a mass of swirling colours and light.

“You found it!” Asra said, laughing. “You’re amazing, Daya. I knew you could do it.”

He moved away from her and headed for the glowing doorway. When he stood before it, he glanced over his shoulder and beckoned her.

Daya didn’t move.

“Asra…places like this are dangerous.”

He paused, blinking at her from under his curls, then smiled. “You’re right, but you don’t have to worry. I made this place.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “I thought you lived with Muriel.”

“Now I do...but when I was younger, I didn’t have anywhere to live. So I created this place.” Asra held out his hand, his eyes warm. “I promise it’s safe. I would never put you in danger.”

Daya hesitated, but his smile was so encouraging she found herself drawn back to him, taking his hand.

The tinkling of bells greeted her as they stepped through the entrance. A warm wall of air rushed over her, pulling the damp and chill from her bones. And beyond that...it looked like a little cave. Shifting colours wandered lazily across the walls, like reflections on water, but it was dry and warm inside. Daya spotted a few familiar drapes and tent poles leaning against the wall, and grinned.

Asra put down his bag and flopped onto a layer of worn blankets and furs, spreading his skirt around him. His eyes followed her movement around the cave as she wandered, picking up little trinkets cluttered on the rock shelves. Seashells, driftwood, some dusty bottles that smelled like myrrh and lavender.

“One of my fathers was a sailor, you know,” Daya said idly. Her fingers brushed over a piece of glass, worn smooth by the sea. “He was from Macawi Port. He came to town for a job one day and met my Apa on the docks. Never went back.”

With the trinkets examined, Daya sat down across from Asra. He laid his head on his knees and watched her, blinking like a contented cat.

“Your aunt said your Apa was a magician too, wasn’t he?”

“Mm-hm. He had a talent for water magic. He loved the sea...which I suppose is why Dad loved him so.”

Her voice faltered into silence. Five years had dulled the pain of her fathers’ loss somewhat, but it hurt to think about them for too long.

Asra’s hand brushed over hers, and she tensed.

“You okay?”

Daya stuttered, caught between honesty and embarrassment at her sudden vulnerability.

“Ah, I’m…” she trailed off, paused, then began again. “I’m just unsure what we’re doing right now. What this means. Or ...I suppose what this even is.”

His eyes were bright with curiosity. “What do you want it to be?”

Daya rested her hands on her knees and dropped her gaze.

“Putting it all on me, huh?” she muttered, and he laughed softly. “If I saw you more than once or twice a year, it would make this a lot easier. I wish...”

Asra moved a little closer, blinking in the dim light. “What do you mean?”

She couldn’t look at him, however much of a coward it made her feel. “Ah, I think it would be easier to figure out how I feel, or...even to explain it. Listen,” she added, and glanced up at him. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Asra looked puzzled. “Do you have to ask? Of course we are.”

Her heart was still pounding, and the room was suddenly a little too warm. Daya unwound her scarf and piled it in her lap, then took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

She wasn’t a coward. She wasn’t. She knew how she felt; she’d known it for a long time. Saying it out loud was just one more step. A leap off a cliff into the unknown, but--

“Daya?”

Daya’s eyes opened, her ears burning.

“Sometimes I think about you,” she said hurriedly, before she could talk herself out of it. “Not as a friend, as--as more than that.” Asra’s eyes widened, his lips parting in surprise, and she swallowed. “I don’t know how to explain it. And even if we can’t--if you don’t want to--I still want to see more of you.”

“You...think about me?” he said, half to himself.

“Of course I do.” She gave an embarrassed laugh, but he was already unfolding himself and moving closer. Her blood quickened; his lovely eyes caught hers in an expression she couldn't quite identify. His voice, already soft, was barely above a whisper.

“I think about you too.”

Her breaths came in quick bursts; her skin sang with how close he was now. Her cheeks were so red she could all but feel the heat coming off them.

Asra planted one hand on the other side of her folded legs. The other he kept resting on hers, thumb rubbing across her knuckles. He leaned forward, ever closer, and some part of her noticed his breathing quicken. She closed her eyes as his lips pressed against hers, soft and warm; enough to make the pulse thunder in her ears.

“Asra,” she breathed when they broke apart, and he laughed at the disbelief and surprise in her expression. “I...uh..happy birthday to me?”

Asra’s laughter tickled her cheek. He sat back on his haunches, smiling brilliantly at her. He was flushed, his eyes glittering, his curls a little tousled from the wind. He looked so carefree and alive she couldn’t help but draw forward for another kiss, soft and full of feeling.

“You’re so sweet,” he said against her lips, before punctuating his words with another kiss.

Daya had to laugh, breathless and high-pitched. “Sweet? Me?”

“You,” Asra murmured. His warm hands combed through her hair, pushing her purple-black curls from her eyes. “Yes, you.”

~oOo~

Daya arrived home just on sunset; still with swollen lips, red cheeks and a heart so light she could have floated away.

She paused on the step to rearrange her clothes and pat down her unruly hair. A few hours of kissing Asra had left her a little disheveled; knowing her aunt she would pick up on the slightest sign of mischief, as she liked to call it.

She hadn’t wanted to leave him, even if the cave had grown uncomfortably warm after a while. But he would see her again soon, he promised, after leaving her at the docks.

This was the start of something new and exciting. She knew it in her heart.

“Oh, come on! You pulled that card on me last time, too. No tricks!”

Daya opened the door to a raised voice that struck her with a sudden sense of deja vu. Next came her aunt’s reply, rich and smooth with none of her usual warmth.

“I don’t control the cards. This is the reading you asked for, and as I reminded you, the cards do not lie. Even to you, milord.”

“Excuse me?! Do you know who I am?”

“I have not forgotten, milord.”

She closed the door and the voices fell silent. Seconds later the backroom curtain swept aside and Tilaya entered the shop. Daya caught sight of blonde hair and a cold eye before the curtain fell back into position.

“There you are,” Tilaya said, a little breathlessly. The colour was high on her cheeks; she looked angry and fearful, and the expression made Daya instantly anxious. “Go on upstairs now. I’m doing one more reading.”

“A customer? Is that--”

“Upstairs, child.” Her aunt’s eyes widened for emphasis. “Go.”

Only when Daya disappeared halfway up the stairwell did the voices begin again. She shivered at the faint rumble of conversation below her...but before long, thoughts of Asra chased away the lingering memory of the fear in her aunt’s eyes.

[facetiousfanboy]

Shopping Mall AU

Here is the first story of my Shopping Mall AU, a human au where the Diamonds own a supermall and the Crystal gems own a small competing store. 

After Persimmon Diamond disappeared years ago the other Diamond sisters continued to pursue their business by maintaining the mall and pushing it to become more successful. Meanwhile Rose Quartz leads the store Terra across the street from the mall and does her best to keep the business open while also looking out for her son Steven.

Amethyst loved her job. She was the cashier at Terra, a store that sold a number of things, and she was basically responsible for the front of the store. The best part about her job was all the people she got to meet and that she got a fantastic chair to relax in between customers. She loved working at the store and had done so for years now, joining on shortly after she had moved into the town.

The store was owned by Rose Quartz who ran it from behind the scenes and was rarely seen. The store was struggling due to a long ongoing competition with the Diamond Mall across the street. The mall was widely popular and had caused Terra and a few other businesses in the area to lose customers. Though some of the other businesses had closed down this store was still around and they were doing their best to stay open.

The store was managed by a tight group of employees, Pearl was in charge of the clothing and home living areas and Garnet was in charge of the electronics and toys area. The few other employees aside from them were mostly part-time workers but it was rare for them to stay more than a few months before moving on to a different job. The store was basically empty right now due to the limited number of employees and the fact that they were between rush periods.

Amethyst felt like she was starting to fall asleep when a small boy with curly black hair and chubby cheeks peeked his head up over the counter and smiled at her. She was suddenly filled with energy as she leaned forward and jumped up. "Steven!" She leapt over the counter and picked up her favorite little buddy, pulling him into a hug which he happily returned.

"Hi Amethyst!" He held onto her even as she set him back down and only pulled back when he heard his father's voice.

"Hey Amethyst, I see Steven found you." Greg chuckled.

Amethyst looked up at Greg and smiled. She and he had been friends for about as long as they had known each other and they still had little get-togethers to binge watch old shows. "Greg! What's happening man?" She held a fist out to him.

Greg happily pounded his fist against hers. "I'm coming by to drop off Steven, he's really excited to spend time with you guys."

"Yeah! I'm hoping Garnet will finally show me how to play that videogame you guys have in the back!" Steven exclaimed excitedly.

Greg smiled and patted Steven's head. "I'm sure she will Shtoo-ball, but first we're gonna drop by your mom's office."

"She's not in," Amethyst interjected. “She had to go out to organize the fall shipment. Pearl should be coming this way in a couple of minutes though, she's always checking on me to make sure I'm not 'slacking off'." Amethyst made quotations with her fingers.

Greg frowned. "She's out again?" He sighed. This was not an uncommon occurrence but he was still sad when he couldn't see her.

Steven looked up at him. "Hey it's okay dad, you can just see her tonight."

Greg smiled. "Yeah, you're right."

Pearl cleared her throat from a few feet away where she had been watching the group. "Amethyst aren't you supposed to be working?"

Amethyst looked at Pearl and smirked. "I am, I'm serving customers," she looked back to Greg. "Isn't that right sir?"

Steven let out a little chuckle but Greg just nodded. "Yeah, thanks for your help Amethyst."

Amethyst nodded and quickly moved back behind the counter, sitting and leaning back with her hands behind her head. "Another satisfied customer." She smirked at Pearl.

Pearl groaned and rolled her eyes before walking to Greg. "Hello Greg, how can I help you?" She folded her hands and acted like she was helping a customer, even plastering a smile across her face.

"I'm just dropping off Steven, then I need to go out and run some errands."

Pearl frowned and raised an eyebrow. "What kinds of Errands?" She asked suspiciously.

"Well I've got some things I need to pick up. Things like a new fridge."

Steven meanwhile ran off, going to find Garnet and probably tell her about everything that had happened since he had last seen her. Steven was a good kid and he was always a positive force no matter where he went. Amethyst felt like having him in the store made the place seem less boring.

Pearl's eyes went wide. "You mean you're going to shop over there?" She pointed across the street to the mall.

Greg nodded. "Yeah, there's a sale going on right now and we need a new fridge."

Amethyst swore she could hear Pearl's blood pressure rising.

"You can't shop there!" Pearl practically screeched. "They're our rivals! As long as we've been here they've done nothing but try to put us out of business!"

Amethyst sighed heavily. She knew that the store was in competition with the mall, but she didn’t understand why Pearl and Garnet both had such a strong prejudice against the mall and the Diamond sisters who ran it. She had tried to ask them on a few occasions but they wouldn't tell her. Amethyst wouldn't have had a problem with it except that Pearl in particular seemed paranoid about it, seeing everything the mall did as an attempt to destroy their store.

Greg frowned. "Pearl please. Money's tight as it is and I can't afford to pass over a deal, even if it is at that mall."

Pearl was about to fly into another rant when Greg held up a hand to stop her. "I'm sorry Pearl, but no matter what you say I'm going over there. Thank you for watching over Steven, I'll be back to pick him up in a few hours." He looked at Amethyst. "Make sure he doesn't get into any trouble."

Amethyst raised her hand, giving him a gesture that meant "okay" and smiled. Pearl was absolutely flabbergasted and was about to say something else when Greg turned and walked out. She stood there and stewed for a second before turning to Amethyst and scowling.

"Sit up straight, what if the customers see you like that?" She turned and stomped away.

Amethyst smiled and shook her head. She pulled out her drink and took a sip of it. She hoped Greg could have some fun at the mall, she meanwhile would do her job. She got up and used a broom to sweep up the front of the store, keeping it clean for when the customers did come.

Greg looked both ways before crossing the street and walking into the mall parking lot. He didn't fully understand Pearl's prejudice against the mall but he knew she wasn't happy about him shopping there. The problem was that the mall sold some things that you couldn't buy anywhere else unless you wanted to drive for an hour or longer to reach a different business. He hadn't been lying about the sale either, or about how tight money was.

Even with his wife, Rose, running a store and he himself working two part-time jobs they still scraped a little to get by. They had been saving up to buy a new fridge to replace their old one when this sale came up and Greg saw it as a perfect opportunity, one he was going to exploit.

He also had to pick up a few other things and he wanted to take some time to relax and just shop. He went in through the KDNickel's entrance and walked through the store, glancing around at the apparel displayed on the mannequins and racks. He was approached very quickly by an employee who asked if he needed any help but he turned her down, stating that he was just passing through.

He moved out of the store and passed the theater booth, moving on into the rest of the mall. The food court was just ahead, the smell of food wafted from the little alcoves where the chefs worked. Greg sniffed the air as he walked past and smiled. He was looking forward to getting some food and sharing it with Steven, but he had other errands first.

He moved with determination past the various stores until he found the one he wanted, a media store. This little store had an assortment of movies, paraphernalia, small electronics, and most importantly music. Greg didn't think he would actually buy anything but he still wanted to browse and so he walked in and looked around.

"Excuse me sir, is there anything I can help you with?" A nasally voice called to him from behind the counter. He turned to regard the woman. She was young, probably in her early twenties, and had blonde hair that she had obviously put a lot of gel in as it stuck up into the air, defying gravity. She wore glasses that had a greenish tint to them and freckles decorated her face. Her ears were pieced with little green triangle studs. She was wearing a shirt with an alien logo on it that was covered by the vest for the store.

Greg smiled as he walked over to her. "Thank you," he regarded her name tag briefly, "Peridot, but I'm alright, just browsing for now."

She nodded and leaned forward against the counter, resting her head against her hand. "Sure, if you need anything just ask."

Greg nodded and started looking through the selections. There was the usual, classic rock, country, pop, some of that rap music and more of that hard metal stuff. Greg recognized some names but most of them were groups he had never heard before.

He rifled through the classic rock section, seeing if there was anything that caught his interest. He nearly gave up hope when he spotted an album he thought he would never see. It was The Philosophy Majors’ second album, considered to be their best by most of their fan base. Greg picked it up immediately and looked at the price. It was marked down and had the complete album on a single disk. He took it to the front desk and set it before the girl who had apparently been dozing off.

She snapped up as he approached and looked at the disk he set before her. "Will that be all for you today sir?"

Greg took a second to look around at some of the display tables in the store. He spotted a couple of items that his son or wife would have liked to have but upon seeing the price tag next to them he decided he was better off just buying the cd.

"Just this please. My name is Greg by the way." He smiled. "It feels weird having people call me sir."

Peridot looked at the album and scanned the barcode. "I've never heard this group before. Are they good?"

Greg seemed surprised. "Never heard them before? They're only one or the best experimental groups of their time!" He exclaimed, excited to talk about them.

Peridot seemed surprised. "O-oh, okay. I don't listen to a lot of older music."

Greg smiled. "Well if you get the chance I highly recommend them."

Peridot nodded and put the album into a bag, followed quickly by the receipt. "I'll think about it." She held the bag out to him. "Have a nice day, um, Greg."

Greg nodded and smiled. "You too Peridot." He left, heading on to his next destination. He went into the toy store, looking around to see I there was anything not too expensive that he thought Steven would like. He couldn't find anything so he moved on. He went to a store that sold various products targeted towards women and bought a couple of flower scented hand lotions for Rose. She said she loved wearing the lotions and just enjoying the scents, that they helped her to focus. He finally reached the Zears located at the end of this wing of the store. He walked in and was greeted by a short Latino woman with deep auburn eyes. She had a symbol tattooed on her left shoulder. She seemed full of energy and ran up to him.

"Hello there sir! I'm Carnie and I'm here to help! Is there anything you're looking for today?"

Greg smiled. "Hello Carnie. My name is Greg and I'm looking to buy a new refrigerator today. I understand you have a sale going on."

Carnie nodded. "Yes sir Mr. Greg! Just follow me this way." She led him through the store and back to the kitchen appliances section.

"Jasper should be getting off her break any minute now. She'll be out to help you." Carnie explained. "In the meantime feel free to look around and find one you like. See you around!" And just like that she was gone.

Greg chuckled and walked through the rows of refrigerators, examining the appliances one by one. He quickly located the few models which were actually on sale and began to examine them more thoroughly, determining which would be the best fit for his home. He was stuck between three models when a person approached from his left.

He looked at the the person and ended up freezing. Standing before him was a tall woman with dark skin that had patches of white across it. Her eyes were a deep orange and she had beautiful sandy blonde hair that fell down her back in a wild mane. She was wearing a blue vest with the stores logo on it and a name tag that said "HELLO, MY NAME IS Jasper." She looked as if she could lift five of him.

She looked him over before speaking in a gruff voice. "Hello sir, can I help you?" She asked.

Greg, who was not exactly a small person, felt very small next to this gigantic woman. He cleared his throat. "Um yes, I'm looking for a refrigerator on sale."

Jasper nodded and looked at the collection. "Well let me tell you, if you're looking for a model that will last you for years to come then you need this refrigerator." She pointed to the one directly in front of Greg.

"This is a top model that is guaranteed to last and perform perfectly for at least five to ten years." She opened the door. "It comes with a wide array of adjustable shelves, three separate drawers, and has a computer that precisely controls the temperature." She pointed it out.

Greg looked at the model and hummed softly in thought. "Well it does seem nice."

Jasper nodded, watching him. She was interested in this man, and he wasn't bad looking at all. There was something about him she found attractive and she was having trouble focusing on the sale. But being the professional she was she carried on.

"It is. And I'll tell you what, if you buy this model today I can get it delivered out to your home next week and have it installed for only fifty dollars more."

Greg seemed very interested in that. "Well, you're certain this is the best model?"

Jasper gave him a deadpan look and spoke with absolute certainty. "You need this refrigerator."

Greg smiled and nodded. "It's a deal!" He held a hand out for her to shake.

She hesitated before extending a hand and taking his in a strong grip, shaking it briefly before pulling back.

Greg winced slightly as she gripped his hand but soon adopted a smile again. "Alright, where's the paperwork?"

Jasper led him over to the desk and got the proper papers out. He quickly filled them out while having a short conversation with her, then paid for the refrigerator and the installation service. Once he was done her looked up at her.

"Thank you very much Jasper. I look forward to seeing you out at the house. Like I said I should be there on Friday in the morning but make sure to call me before you come."

Jasper nodded. "Of course sir. I'll see you then." She filed the papers away and walked him back to the front of the store. "Have a pleasant day."

Greg smiled. "You too!" He waved as he walked out then continued on his way.

Carnelian walked up beside Jasper and looked up at her once Greg was out of earshot. "So, he was kinda cute."

A bright blush colored Jasper's cheeks as she looked down at the woman. "I've got work to do." She turned and started to walk away.

"Yeah girl, you work it!" Carnie teased before returning to her own work, going over to help a couple of customers deciding on a new washing machine.

Jasper shook her head and returned to her section. She felt like an idiot for how she felt, but she couldn't wait to go to Greg's home. She found herself smiling as she went to help another customer who was looking at crockpots.

Greg hummed softly as he moved back towards the KDNickel's. Jasper had been very helpful and he felt she had been honest. Greg looked forward to having the fridge delivered and wondered if she would be bringing it out herself. He kept moving while he thought but stopped when the smell of the food court met his nose and he was reminded of just how hungry he was.

He walked into the food court and looked around at the various businesses. There was Fish Stew Pizza, Fryman's, Burger Baron, and a few other places. Greg took a moment to consider what sounded best and also to determine what Steven would enjoy. He finally decided on the burger place and walked over to it.

There was a small line, not surprising considering how close it was to dinnertime, but it seemed to be moving fast. Soon Greg reached the front of it and smiled at the woman behind the counter.

She was a young woman with bags under her eyes and a tired expression on her face. Her blue eyes met his briefly before she looked away. Her bright blue hair was hidden under the red cap she wore. As he stepped up to the counter she spoke.

"Welcome to Burger Baron, home of the Bopper. My name is Lapis. What can I get for you sir?" She sounded tired but she forced a smile.

Greg smiled back, hoping it would help her feel better. "Hello, my name is Greg." He looked up at the board again to solidify his decision before giving his order to the girl.

She typed it into the computer. "Did you want anything else sir?"

Greg looked at her and shook his head. "No, thank you."

She nodded and sent the order. Greg moved to the side as the next customer came up and gave their order. Greg hummed softly as he waited for his order but his humming was interrupted when the person ordering raised their voice at the girl.

"Are you deaf? I said a small Bopper with no pickles! Honestly how hard is it to get a simple order correct?"

Lapis seemed to shrink under the customer's comments but she spoke in a neutral voice. "I'm sorry ma'am, I'll fix it right now."

"You're damn right you will! Honestly, it's no wonder you're paid minimum wage you useless," Greg interrupted her before she could finish.

"Excuse me ma'am, I don't see any reason for you to talk to her like that. It was an honest mistake and she's going to fix it for you."

The woman narrowed her eyes at Greg. "Butt out buddy, I'm talking to her not you."

Greg moved a bit to stand closer to Lapis. "True but there's no reason for you to talk down to her. She's trying her best to help you. If you aren't going to talk to her with respect then maybe you shouldn't be talking to her at all."

The woman seemed absolutely flabbergasted and she looked from Greg to Lapis briefly before scowling. "Whatever weirdo." She turned and stomped away.

Lapis looked at Greg like he was some sort of saint. "I...” She didn’t know what to say. “Thank you for that."

Greg smiled. "It was my pleasure."

Lapis gave a genuine smile and looked down. "Stay there for a second please." She quickly walked back into the food prep station and emerged a few moments later with the bag containing his food. She held it out to him. "I threw a few extra fries and another toy in."

Greg blinked in surprise and accepted the bag. "Thank you, you didn't have to though."

Lapis looked at him. "I wanted to." She smiled. "Thank you again, have a nice day."

Greg smiled back. "You too Lapis." He turned and left, happy to have brightened that girl’s day, she seemed like she needed it.

Greg left through the Nickel's and crossed the street back to Terra. The store had picked up some business in his absence and there was a group of customers at the checkout now. Amethyst didn't even have time to say hello to him as he entered.

Greg moved through the store and went to the electronics section where a tall black woman with a full afro was selling a game to a customer. She finished up the sale by the time Greg reached her.

Garnet looked at Greg and smiled. "Hello Greg. Steven went over to the home section about ten minutes ago." She adjusted her sunglasses as she spoke.

Greg nodded. "Thank you Garnet." He turned to go but was stopped when Garnet touched his shoulder. He turned back to look at her.

"Greg, I heard you went over to the mall..." She had adopted a neutral expression but Greg could tell she was worried.

Greg turned back and nodded. "Yes, I already explained to Pearl that I had to buy a new fridge and they had a sale going on."

Garnet nodded. "I understand. I'm not going to tell you not to shop there but I have to warn you about something. Stay away from the Diamonds. They still hold a grudge against Rose for what happened between her and Pink all those years ago. If they find out you're her husband I don't know what they would do."

Greg didn't know why it was that Garnet and Pearl were so afraid of the Diamonds and the mall but if it would help them to feel better he would agree. "Alright Garnet, I'll do my best to avoid them if I should ever meet them."

Garnet nodded. "Thank you." She seemed to relax after he made that promise.

Greg smiled. "I better go find Steven before the food gets cold. I'll see you later." He turned and walked away, going to the home section.

The store had a surprising amount of items that it carried, some large others small. In the home section were a few of the larger items including some desks, tables, and chairs. Greg spotted Steven in one of the reclining chairs and made his way over. He didn't notice the other person sitting in a chair opposite him until he got close.

The person sitting in a chair opposite Steven was a mature woman wearing a green jacket. She had a head of wild white hair and looked very thin. The most striking thing about her were her eyes. Her right one was normal with a green iris, but her left one was completely green all the way through with a pupil and iris carved into it. Greg had to take a moment to figure out it was a glass eye as he drew closer. Greg heard the conversation between the two as he came into earshot.

"Thank you for listening Steven. So few people do."

Steven smiled and nodded. "You're welcome Ms. Peedle. Thank you for the story. It's too bad you don't want to work here, I think you would enjoy it!"

The woman, Ms. Peedle, chuckled warmly. "Well maybe I will, but I need some more time to think first."

Steven nodded. "When you do I could put in a word with mom. She loves helping people!"

She chuckled softly. "Thank you Steven. I'd appreciate it." She stood up and Greg walked over.

"Hey Shtoo-ball! Who's your friend?"

Steven looked up at him. "Dad!" He jumped up and ran over to him. He smiled when he noticed the bag. "You brought dinner!" He stopped though and looked back at the woman. "Oh, I’m sorry." He turned towards her and gestured. "This is Ms. Peedle, she was a caplin?"

She walked over to Greg and spoke. "I was a captain, Steven." She nodded to Greg. "It's very nice to meet you. My name is Cindy Peedle." She held a hand out for Greg to shake.

Greg took her hand and shook it. Now that he got a good look at her he could see her green jacket was actually an old army jacket. He smiled. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Greg Universe, Steven's dad."

She nodded and pulled her hand back. "Your son is a very nice young man." She smiled down at him. "He and I have become very good friends."

Greg nodded. "He's always been very good about making friends."

She nodded and checked her watch. "I'm sorry but I have to get going. I'll see you again soon Steven." She looked back to Greg. "It was nice to meet you too." She turned and left.

Greg watched her go then looked to Steven. "Come on, let's go eat in the break room, then we should head home."

Steven smiled and nodded. "Alright dad." He went to the back of the store and into the break room, followed closely by Greg. They sat down back there and ate, talking about the day.

Greg told Steven of what had happened at the mall, about the things he had bought and the people he had met. He left out no details, even telling Steven about how he had helped Lapis and about the fridge he had bought.

Steven told him about what he had done, playing the video game Garnet showed him, helping Pearl to sell a dress, greeting customers for Amethyst. Then he told him about Ms. Peedle. She was a veteran who had been coming into the store for a few weeks now and had slowly opened up to Steven with stories and had even started to tell him about her life.

They finished the food and left the store, making sure to say goodbye to the girls as they left and headed back home. They started singing on the way, enjoying themselves as they traveled. The day was drawing to a close as they entered the house and settled down for the night.

So that’s the first story, here’s a link to part 2. Thank you for reading and please feel free to like, reblog, and ask me any questions or tell me what you think.

[maniibear]

for @ishipallthings -- happy belated birthday, dear! The gift is 84 years late, but I hope you enjoy the stony :)

Word Count: ~5400 Warnings: mention of abuse, non-graphic asthma, a Hamilton reference Summary: StevexTony; Steve has a one-night stand on Sunday, and a job interview on Monday. Guess who is his potential boss’s son?

Six in the morning, and the world is just starting to wake up. Steve’s in the middle of the city, but deep enough into a nicer area that he can only hear traffic from a distance. The local noise is still crickets and sprinklers, and the occasional van rolling in with deliveries to the rich and famous dwelling here in the heart of Manhattan.

Steve’s sure enough he’s not going to get mugged here, and he’s tempted to savor the brightening solitude, but he can also feel the dull scratch of anxiety at the back of his mind. Maybe if it was a Saturday, he could have savored the pleasant ache in his body, given in to the compulsion to smile like a dope and be less concerned about his terrible bed head. If it were a Saturday, he wouldn’t have even gotten out of bed.

But here he is, loitering on the street on a Monday morning, thin frame wrapped in a shirt that was conspicuously missing a few buttons and definitely not fooling the throng of blue collar workers making their way to their employers’ terrifically expensive condos. Steve is just in the process of politely refusing a squished granola bar from the cavernous tote bag of a sweet granny type who speaks little English, but clearly manages to convey that she thinks he’s pillow pet who’s been kicked out before some rich-and-famous’s spouse returned, when he hears the familiar roar of Bucky’s motorcycle. Steve hastily thanks granny, vows to learn a little Vietnamese, and bolts.

He jumps on the back of the bike and hastily taps the side of Bucky’s hip. “Go go go!”

“Aw, runnin’ out on your girlfriend, Stevie?”

“Buck!” Steve grits his teeth desperately.

Bucky just laughs and tosses the spare helmet back.

“So,” he says happily, once Steve is all strapped in and they’re on the way back to their apartment on a less manicured side of town. “This all seems wildly irresponsible.”

Steve woke up to the sound of the radio playing low, like it was meant to be background noise than anything else. A cursory glance showed the bed was empty beside him. Steve shuddered into further wakefulness and picked up on the sound of running water coming from the adjoining bathroom.

Right. He fell back on the bed with a huff, crumpled sheets keeping the bare minimum of his modesty in check, and stared up at the chandelier. The bathroom door opened just then. Steve let his head fall to the side and smiled at a very gorgeous and equally naked Tony. It dawned on Steve that he was enough of an art nerd to look at him paused in the doorway and think of Donatello’s David.

“Hey.”

Tony looked briefly startled, but a smile spread across his face before Steve could think anything about it, and the next thing he knew, Tony took a flying leap and cannonballed into his arms. The sheets tangled further around their winding legs, fingers intertwined, and mouths pressed against each other like they hadn’t spent the last twelve hours together.

Tony tasted like mint and fresh water and his eyes sparkled like the insets in the chandelier above. “Let’s just do this all day,” he suggested. “I’ll order breakfast; whatever you want, from wherever you want.”

That made Steve laugh. He couldn’t help but think that if Tony bottled and sold his apparent ability to make endorphins happen, he’d make a killing. Not that Tony was in any dire need of money; no, judging by how he hadn’t yet let go of Steve, it was pretty obvious what he did need.

And Steve was happy to give it. He ran his hands along slim thighs resting between his own; he kissed Tony’s palm when it brushed his cheek, and god, it was tempting, this offer to roll around in bed all day. Surely, there were some errands he could put off for another weekend. Steve just let his eyes fall shut to try and recall his schedule, and the radio drifted in.

‘You’re listening to NPR and it is Monday 6:15 AM’—what?!

“Fuck!” Steve shot up so fast that he dislodged Tony, who landed beside him with a small ‘oof!’.

“Ow?” he complained, but Steve was too busy grabbing at his phone and staring in shock at a number of missed calls from Bucky, and a text from Sharon wishing him luck on the first day of his new job.

Fuck fuck fuck!

“I have to go,” he wheezed at Tony, who was still sprawled in bed with his chin in his hands as he watched Steve wrestle his clothes on. His eyes weren’t quite so bright anymore.

“Uh-huh.”

“No, I don’t mean…I’m proposing. A lady…” Steve winced at the look on Tony’s face. His brain could handle threading his belt and texting Bucky at once, but clearly drew the line at adding coherent speech. Hitting send on the text begging his best friend to pick him up from his ‘night out’, Steve took a breath.

“Sorry, I meant, I have to make a proposal to someone kind of important today. God, I can’t believe I forgot! It’s been on my calendar for a month.”

“Not the marriage kind, I’m guessing?” Tony asked. Steve wondered if it was normal to be this stupidly pleased that he was smiling again.

“No, just the work kind, I’m afraid.” He swallowed thickly when Tony stretched on the bed, arching ridiculously and then slipping off in a pile of sheets and long limbs.

“Yeah, I have to be somewhere too,” Tony said ruefully. He padded over to Steve, still naked, and poked his chest. “You’re free for dinner, right?”

“You’re telling me that our boy here, who literally would not shut up about this contract with the Stark Foundation, had to be picked up from a one night stand on the first day.”

“Tragic, isn’t it?” Bucky replies.

“I blame you,” says Sam. “Ten PM, and did you know where your best friend was?”

“Did you?”

“Hey, I have a real job. You work from home, Steve’s your responsibility.”

The barstool creaks when Bucky settles on it. “He’s a cry for help.”

Steve spits the last of the toothpaste into the sink and ducks out to glare at his friends. “First of all, neither of you are my parents,” he says, pointing the toothbrush viciously at both of them. “Second of all, how come you two can get along to rag on me, but can’t bother when I...I don’t know, have an important client?”

To their credit, Sam and Bucky exchange a look that might have been apologetic about the whole Prince of Wakanda incident, but it all becomes moot when Sam asks, “So, does that guy like cats or…?”

“Oh my god!” Steve rolls his eyes incredulously and disappears back into the bathroom as Sam doggedly follows up with, “Dude shows up dressed like a cat, Steve; you weren’t even a little curious?”

“Anyway, we still wanna know who kept you out all night when you had a job today.” Bucky sings when he doesn’t answer. “Come on, Stevie, don’t make us hold your portfolio hostage.”

Steve dashes back out, shirt halfway buttoned and a severe look on his face. Sam and Bucky just smile back at him serenely. Not that he should have expected anything else—his friends might be assholes, but they knew better than to mess with his work. They latch on to his relief, though, and loom over the counter like cats that spotted cream.

“I…ah, geeze,” Steve focuses on smoothing his shirt down and hunting for his jacket to combat the blush climbing over his cheeks. “His name’s Tony. He’s well off, I guess…young, though.”

“How young?”

Steve resists the urge to mess up his combed hair with a nervous gesture. “Uh, he was at Triskelion for his twenty-first birthday.”

This time Bucky and Sam exchange another look of high strung exasperation. 

“Steve, you’re only twenty five, not ninety, so don’t think you’re cradle robbing or anything.” Bucky says. “Although, I question why a guy who lives in the kinda place I picked you up at is celebrating his day of legal booze at Triskelion.”

He asked Tony as much and Tony just grinned, warm and lush and impossibly attractive in his birthday suit.

“Why were you, uh…?”

“Slummin’ in the city in my fancy heels?” Tony laughed. And how was Steve supposed to resist leaning up to kiss him?

“So,” he murmured against Tony’s lips when they parted. “Were you searching for an urchin, or what?”

Tony exhaled in a long sigh, and pushed him back so Steve’s back hit the impossibly soft mattress again and his palms slid up Tony’s thighs. “You’re a smart guy, Steve, artist extraordinaire,” he said. “I’m sure you don’t think today was really my first time drinking.”

Steve hummed affirmative. He didn’t think too many first timers went for the whiskey.

“This huge deal about my 21st, it’s mostly for the show. I’m sure Dad’s expecting me to head downtown and make the glamour section. Maybe even get locked up.”

“Tony!”

Tony snickered, looked down at Steve like he was adorable. “Relax, I’d get bailed out in an hour, tops, and nobody would talk about it again. Told you it’s just for show.”

If Tony expected Steve to be ok with that explanation, he was wrong. It just made him more protective of this boy he’d only met a couple hours ago. But who was he to tell Tony what was what? Steve stroked heavily down Tony’s thighs, himself warm with drink. “Ok,” he said instead. “So, you’re rebelling against your parents by having a quiet night in?”

“Just my dad,” Tony drawled. “…and…” he slid down Steve’s legs in a sinuous move that made his mouth go dry, and parted his thighs without breaking eye contact. “…I’m hoping I won’t be quiet for long.”

At 9 AM sharp, Steve finds himself sitting on an expensive microfiber couch, draped tastefully with a throw rug. His clothes are neat, his hair is combed, his portfolio is stacked with several excellent examples of why he should lead the branding effort for the newly minted Maria Stark Foundation.

There’s a strange, premonitory quality to the air that Steve chalks up to nerves. Not for the first time this morning, he chides himself for going drinking before the interview. He wants this job, he should have acted like it. But then, a vision of Tony’s firework grin flashes through his mind and Steve can’t bring himself to regret his life choices too much.

Steve absently scratches a bruised spot on his chest, remnant of an ardent hickey, and already thinks about their meeting tonight. He imagines greeting Tony with good news, easily envisions the delighted kiss that would come after.

“I told you!” Tony would say, probably against Steve’s lips because he’d be too impatient to wait until they finished kissing. And Steve would laugh--

“Mr. Rogers?” 

The door to the main office stands wide open and a redheaded assistant looks inquiringly over at Steve, who sits up and banishes his decidedly unprofessional train of thought.

 “You can go in now,” the assistant says.

 - 

There’s a piano in the far corner of the studio and there’s someone playing it. The piece sounds good, albeit halting, as if it were still being practiced. Steve can’t see who, but doesn’t think they should be the focus of his attention anyway. Howard Stark greets him with an air of severity from behind the cherrywood desk.

“The artist,” he says. “Rogers, is it? Stephen?”

“Steve, sir, and yes.”

The melody on the piano hits a sour note and falters.

A frown crosses Howard’s brow. “Unfortunately, Maria couldn’t be here, but she shortlisted you, so you must have something worth a look.” He turns to the piano with a somewhat sardonic curl to his lip. “Anthony, would you like to join us?”

A few more notes tinkle out of the piano before it finally stops. There’s a shuffling noise, and Steve finally turns to cast a look at Anthony--

--and immediately breaks into gooseflesh. Sure, he has on more clothes and his hair is neatly combed back, but Anthony and his talents on the piano are none other than his Tony. Tony, who immediately gives a knowing smile as he crosses over to the desk, and Steve has to quickly school his features before Howard can notice. Speaking of which, how did Tony end up in Howard’s office?

It becomes more obvious when Tony gets closer. Oh please, Steve thinks, don’t let it be--

“My son,” Howard says.

Steve smiles wanly. “Oh.”

Tony bites his lip to keep from laughing.

Tony grinned delightedly and swaggered closer to Steve’s side of the pool table. He raised his eyebrows and made sure Steve was watching before sliding up to sit on the edge and position his pool stick behind him.  

There were dollar bills lying on yet another edge-- crumpled 5’s from Steve’s pocket and a tidy 20 from Tony’s. It was the first time Steve had ever taken up a random stranger’s offer of a game, but it wasn’t exactly a hustle. Steve hadn’t been fooled by Tony’s pretend fumbling more than he’d been distracted by how much the guy liked to put on a show, and then by his smile.

They knew each other for less than an hour, but Tony was somewhat of a rubik’s cube, and Steve liked a challenge.

“You’re not going to make it,” he predicted, eyeing the layout of targets on the felt.

Tony cast a disdainful glance. “Yes, I will.

Steve didn’t reply to that; he just made an acquiescing gesture and leaned heavily on his pool stick.

Tony licked his lips, took the shot, and--he didn’t make it. Bafflement looked adorable on him, though, Steve thought before he could stop himself.

“No, my math was right,” Tony slid off the edge and insisted. “I should have gotten the three and four.”

“You factor in how much you drank?”

Tony shot him another look. “Of course, I did.”

And yet, the pockets remained empty. Steve glided over to the table, judged the angles, and positioned his own stick. He took his shot, and both his targets obediently rolled into their goal. “You sure about that?” he asked Tony.

“Well,” Tony stepped into his space. “I might not have factored in how distracting you were.”

Steve could feel the warmth of their proximity and felt warm himself, looking at Tony’s lips. He’d come into Triskelion for a quick drink and a solitary game of pool to calm his nerves about his proposal tomorrow. He was supposed to have left an hour ago and should have been getting ready for a full night’s rest right about now, if not for some trashtalking punk challenging him.

Sadly, said punk was also ridiculously attractive and being near him thrilled Steve. He brushed his hand along Tony’s waist before either of them knew what they were doing. Tony looked startled for a moment, but then exhaled a soft, contented ‘ah’ as his whole body language melted into willingness. Steve could feel his heart jump, but wrapping his arm around Tony’s waist felt as natural as curling his fingers around a paintbrush; so did pulling Tony forward until kissing him was inevitable.

Obviously it never occurred to either of them to be shy. Steve was raring to go by the time Tony said, “You wanna get out of here?”

“Get out of here,” Tony gushes. “These are incredible!”

Pages turn noisily in his hands, but it’s not enough to mask the sound of Steve’s heart beating in his own ears. This feels ridiculously unfair. There’s a part of him that’s quite rightly mortified that the cute young thing that he’d hooked up with last night is his potential boss’s son. Then, there’s another, arguably bigger, part of Steve that watches Tony’s sincere delight in his craft and imagines reaching across the desk to kiss Tony until they were both breathless.

But that’s no way to think about a man’s son in his direct presence.

“Thank you,” Steve says instead, voice skirting a new and apparently razor thin line he’s discovered between giddy affection and gracious professionalism.

Tony glances up and smiles back impishly. Howard pointedly clears his throat.

“Slow down, Anthony,” he advises. “We have a few more candidates to go before we decide--”

“--decide who to get in bed with. I know,” Tony drones long-sufferingly, and Steve quickly disguises a strangled groan behind a cough.  

“Exactly,” Howard says in the dry tones of one used to Tony’s behavior for roughly two decades. “Glad to see you enthusiastically involved in the proceedings, for once.”

“Oh, you know me,” Tony lifts his chin to smile at Steve, and takes his time licking the tip of his finger before turning another page. “I see something I like, I have to be hands on.”

Christ. So, this is how it’s going to be.

Steve offers an eulogy for the weeks he’d spent practicing his answers to every professional curveball he might be thrown, because who could have predicted Tony Stark? Who could have predicted that the stranger Steve spent all night bending over various fancy furniture would appear at his interview and start firing off innuendo?

Whoever it was, they should also have known Steve wasn’t the type to back down.

“I’m glad you think so...Anthony,” he replies, dragging each syllable out on his tongue for as long as he dared. “Always happy to meet a fan of my work.”

“Oh, call me Tony,” comes the hurried reply, just before Tony leans casually on the desk and gestures at the illustrations. “And I’m curious: where does all this magic happen?”

“If I’m not working on-site with a client, have a setup at home, where I probably spend too much of my time,” Steve shrugs some of the stiffness from his shoulders and gives a short laugh. “I know you must think being bent over a drafting table for hours is awful, but it’s actually a lot of fun.” He pauses for effect before adding. “I enjoy it, anyway.”

It takes a moment for Tony to find his voice. “Honestly, I can see where you’re coming from,” he says, rougher than before. “So, do you work alone? Or is there someone helping out on that drafting board?”

“Well, they say too many tugs spoil the weave,” answers Steve, knowing full well that nobody ever said that. “I tend to be picky about who I work with, but sometimes--well, it’s entirely possible, you meet someone by chance and you just click.”

Winking flirtatiously might be inappropriate for the setting, but Steve has enough meaningful looks and bashful smiles in his repertoire to slip one under Howard’s radar.

On the other hand, Tony’s lopsided grin doesn’t quite cover the faint red on his cheeks. He casts his eyes down endearingly. “That sounds--”

“Needlessly romantic,” Howard interjects. He directs a sharp look at Tony. “Young Ms. Van Dyne rubbing off on you?”

Tony snickers. “No, I don’t think it’s me Jan wants to--” he trails off when Howard’s expression grows admonishing, and seamlessly rounds on Steve instead.

“Jan’s my friend,” Tony informs him. “But just a friend! Not like my girlfriend or anything. Just so we’re clear.”

“Uh, quite,” Steve nods, telling himself it’s not mollification he feels. Luckily, Howard seems too exasperated by his son to notice Steve’s inner melodrama.

“I think you’ve wasted enough of Rogers’ time today,” he says, and Steve winces when he plucks the samples from Tony’s hands. “Now, if you don’t have real questions, you know where the door is.”

“But I have questions,” Tony insists. Quickly, before Howard can object, he asks, “So, Steve, why do you want to work for the Maria Stark foundation? Besides the perks, the prestige, and the great work we do?”

Steve’s eyebrow twitches. He’s no longer surprised by cheeky questions, but it’s disquieting the way Tony resolutely avoids eye contact with his father. And as for Howard himself, Steve tucks the man’s callousness away in the back of his mind before his objection to it shows on his face.

“For me, it’s the people,” he answers finally. “I first got to know of Mrs. Stark’s work through the hospital charity, when my Ma was admitted.”

Tony lifts his eyes, somber but clearly curious. Howard remains impassive as ever.

“She patched us through to some good treatments; experimental stuff we wouldn’t have known about,” Steve continues. “Ma didn’t make it, but thanks to Mrs. Stark, I know it wasn’t for lack of trying. This is my way of giving back.”

Tony’s lips move. Steve can see them form the familiar ‘I’m sorry’ but Howard gets in first.

“Giving back what exactly?” he asks, even and unimpressed. “You don’t have enterprise clients or global experience.”

“But I have done my homework,” Steve counters smoothly. “The Foundation is still facing a public opinion problem--what with Stark Industries manufacturing weapons and the Foundation seeking to aid war-torn regions. If you turn to page eleven, my proposal to reconcile that is right there.”

For the first time, Howard looks interested. Steve keeps one eye on the elder Stark reading through his proposal and the other on Tony, who no longer seems as enthusiastic as Howard had liked. He scratches the side of his head, fingers carding nervously through black hair and trying hard to be subtle about it.

The urge to clasp that hand and kiss the nerves away makes Steve restless. He curls his palms on the desk, focuses on the cool wood before he does something stupid.

“Not bad,” Howard finally passes his verdict. “Could use a few improvements, but it’ll fool enough folks with deep pockets.”

In spite of himself, Steve feels his professional demeanor slip. Theoretically, he shouldn’t contradict an employer. Then theoretically, an employer shouldn't say shady things, Steve thinks, which dovetails right into him telling Howard, “Sir, I don’t want to fool anyone.”

Casually noting Tony's interest in the face of Howard's vexation, Steve continues, “I just want to show people that war may be a necessary evil, but that it doesn’t absolve us from humanitarianism; that we’re committed to improvement, not conflict.”

“That’s good,” Howard chuckles. “That should convince the hippies on the West Coast. Believe it or not, we still have investors in the Bay who are cagey about giving us money all because we’re in the weapons business.”

Tony sits up, features growing tight and resolute. “But SI makes more than enough profit to cover that gap.”

Howard’s expression grows abruptly thunderous. “You’re out of your goddamn mind,” he retorts harshly, and Steve starts in surprise.

What he’d assumed was normal tension between a straightlaced father and an incorrigible son gets quickly shadowed by the flash of real fear in Tony’s eyes. It isn’t there for long. Tony schools his features in seconds, relaxing back into a marvelous, calculated insolence, but Steve is hard pressed to be fooled.

“We’re not Santa Claus, to be out saving the whole world,” Howard continues. “Even a charitable foundation needs good business sense before it needs blind optimism, or do you think your mother’s bleeding heart is enough to keep the lights on? ”

Tony grows steely. “Look, I just meant--”

“Meant,” Howard echoes derisively. “I’ve told you once, I told you a hundred times, Anthony: what you meant doesn’t count for shit.”

“Sir, that’s enough.” Steve keeps his voice deliberately low, but it’s enough to stun both Starks into pin drop silence.

Howard looks predictably incensed at being challenged. Tony mostly looks surprised. Surprised, and grateful in a way that strikingly reminds Steve of his own youth--of boys twice his size, of blood flowing from his split lip or broken nose, of the first time Bucky extended a hand to lift him off the ground and Steve had stared at it like a goddamn miracle. It’s that same look in Tony’s eyes which makes him throw diplomacy out the window.

“I spent weeks preparing for this interview,” Steve gets in before Howard can rebuke him. “Everyone who knows me knows how I bad I wanted this job, and it’s not because I want to create press releases for profit, but because I want everyone to know Mrs. Stark’s work when they see it.”

Steve begins gathering up his samples, not-so-accidentally brushing Tony’s fingertips with his own. “But I won’t work with bullies, no matter the business sense.”

Howard contemptuously pushes the portfolio away. “I’d watch my tone, if I were you.”

“Well, sir, you’re not me,” Steve counters caustically, and snaps his binder shut. Standing up, he doesn’t have much of a height advantage, but a withering look taken from the best of Peggy’s repertoire works just as well. “But let me know when you catch up.”

Howard grows livid. “Get out!”  

They couldn’t stop kissing. Neither of them were terribly patient, it appeared, and Tony’s excited chatter might have kept them from sullying the cab on their ride over to the nicest building Steve had ever seen, but all bets were off once the elevator closed.

They stumbled into Tony’s apartment, still attached at the lips. Steve had enough wits about him to observe that it was a studio, but one that probably cost more than most folks’ entire houses. The bed in the corner looked like a literal mound of heaven, but if Tony’s hands didn’t stop wandering, they weren’t going to make it.

Steve gasped when they ran roughly over his chest and plowed through to his shoulders so Tony could mumble ‘Off!’ while relieving Steve of his coat. The garment slipped off to pool at their feet and Tony inhaled sharply.

Suddenly holding Steve at arm’s length, he tilted his head and drunkenly declared. “You’re tiny!”

Steve instinctively flinched, but before he could draw away, Tony swooped in for what he’d later dub the hug-and-fly technique and try to accost Steve with it at least thrice before the night was over.

“Hey, careful!” Steve yelped as soon as he got over the shock of being picked up and whirled around like a Disney princess. “My jacket—Tonyyyy!”

Tony giggled dizzily and leaned up for another messy kiss. “I’ll buy you another.”

“Not in time, you won’t,” Steve squirmed until Tony unlocked his hands and put him down. “My inhaler’s in there.”

“Oh,” Tony moaned more than spoke, then his eyes flew open and he scurried a few steps back from Steve’s reaching fingers. “Uh, are you going to be ok?”

“I’ll be fine,” Steve replied, moving his poor, vulnerable jacket to safer ground. “It’s just for emergencies. Trust me, it takes a lot for me to lose my breath these days.”

“Oh?” Tony casually grabbed the collar of his own t-shirt and pulled the whole thing off in one fluid motion so he was both, exposed and artfully disheveled.

Steve’s breath caught instantly and very audibly.

“You were saying…?” Tony teased, eyes glimmering.

Steve swallowed. “Well, there are exceptions.”

Steve barely makes it out of Stark Industries imposing headquarters before a familiar tightness in his chest fairly warns him to take a break. Even so, he stubbornly marches to the farthest end of the building block before seeking refuge in an empty bus shelter. Because why give Howard the satisfaction of seeing him keel over from an asthma attack on Stark property when a narrow bench and an illuminated ad for Vibranium brand condoms would do just fine?

Once there, Steve lets his portfolio slide to the ground and shoves one hand into his pocket to feel for his inhaler. When it comes up empty, he sternly wills himself not to panic. Panicking only made things worse, but it becomes hard to remain calm when the other pocket is also empty and he can’t even remember if he’d bought along a spare—

“Hey!” a familiar voice calls out.

Tony barrels into the bus shelter just in time to see Steve’s best impression of a goldfish out of water. Luckily, he’s also brandishing Steve’s rescue inhaler.

“I thought it was you,” Tony looks triumphant. “You left this behind and I remembered you…Jesus, Steve!”

The gist of what Steve remembers after is the familiar woodsy smell of Tony’s expensive cologne, a litany of anxious concern, and some awkward mishaps of someone new to dealing with medical emergencies. Happily, it ends with Tony shoving the uncapped inhaler between Steve’s shaking fingers and guiding it to his lips.  

Moments later, Steve counts his breaths while Tony settles down on the bench beside him to rub his back, unasked. Warmth blooms over his spine in slow circles, moves up to his shoulders, and drapes pleasantly over the nape of his neck. Ultimately, however, it’s knowing that Tony is there, safe, beside him that unravels the tightness in Steve’s chest until it’s a distant memory.

Steve shivers when Tony turns and kisses his shoulder. For a moment, everything feels right with the world. Like most good things, it’s fleeting.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says roughly. A moment passes, not awkward, but light with gladness at being together again. “I didn’t want to leave you there.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause you missed the look on Howard’s face,” Tony counters mildly, then chuckles. “Back when you were all ‘But let me know when you catch up’...” He raises his chin and brassily snaps his fingers in cartoonish imitation of Steve telling off his father. “I thought he was going to burst a vein, and then you marched, marched, out that door like James fucking Bond?!”

“You,” Tony breathes wondrously, eyes twinkling as he points leisurely nudges Steve with his shoulder. “are a badass, Steve the artist. And, I’m just gonna come out and say it: that was the most awesome thing anyone’s done for me.”

Steve tries and fails to match Tony’s earnest smile. The disquiet he felt in Howard’s office lingers still, even as he clasps Tony's hand hovering on his chest. Steve focuses on the pliable warmth of it, on the delicate bones and rough callouses, because if he doesn’t, he’ll get angry all over again.

“I don’t mean to make things difficult,” he starts.

“Difficult?” Tony echoes, with a frown that only grows more curious when Steve cups the side of his face.

“Tony, are you...I’m just…” Steve falters, unsure, and frustrated with himself for it. How do you ask someone if their parent was the hitting kind? In the end, he decides on plain words. Tony is too important to him to dance around this subject. “Is he going to hurt you?”

Tony’s eyes lift in surprise, then grow affectionately soft. He leans forward to brush his lips against Steve’s and says, "No, he won’t. I mean, I won’t lie—he’s pissed off after being yelled at by what he considers ‘the help’,” Once again, Tony teeters on the verge of laughter before growing sober. “But he’s not gonna hit me."

It doesn’t put all of Steve’s monumental worries to rest, but it’s something. Scooting closer on the bench, he pulls Tony into a hug and unhappily rests his chin on soft, dark hair. He also tightens his arms, squeezing Tony tightly as if to say: if you need me, I’ll be there.

For his part, Tony sidles up contentedly, his breath whooshing warmly along Steve’s collarbones. The sound of his organic circuitry blends with the white noise of the city at midmorning, and with each moment that passes, Steve only grows more unwilling to part.

“Keep your phone on,” Tony mumbles eventually. “Mom gets final say anyway, and I know she’ll want you.”

Steve finds himself smiling at how comfortable ‘Mom’ sounds on Tony’s tongue. “You sound so sure.”

Tony pulls away slightly, and looks up at Steve with mild reproach. “You saying I don’t know my own mother, Rogers?”

Steve taps a kiss on his forehead. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Hmph,” Tony rolls his eyes, but slips back into their embrace.

“Still on for dinner?” Steve asks after they’ve luxuriated in each other for a few moments more. “I could use someone to celebrate my new job with.”

Tony nods. “Wear something nice,” he says. “Something form fitting. I want to try our—shh, too late, it’s our move now—hug-and-fly again.”

Steve sighs.