AU Yeah August 3/31--Cruise Ship AU
Anon suggested Sam/Tony! Fell a little behind because of family reunion prep but it’s not like there’s a time limit on these lmao.
Tony was having… the worst vacation.
Pepper and Rhodey had thought a cruise would be a good idea. He could be waited on when he wanted, left alone when he wanted, and the short excursions from the ship were fine to do alone―or, if he met someone he clicked with on the ship, with a partner. He needed to ‘get away from it all’ and ‘forget some of the things that had happened.’
Yeah, forget that his business partner and father-figure had been double-dealing to terrorists behind his back. He was sure this sailing biohazard was going to help him do that. Why, it wasn’t as if people didn’t keep giving him second glances anyway, weren’t pointing and whispering behind their hands. Relaxing. He’d definitely get over that in the next five days of the cruise.
Tony was just considering going back to his room and staying there until they reached a port where he could bail from the cruise when a tall blond man approached him with a tray. Tony did not recognize the drink on it.
“I didn’t order this,” Tony said.
The waiter looked longsuffering. “It’s from the bartender.”
Tony took the glass cautiously. “What is it?”
“It’s uuuuuuuuh,” the waiter began, looking down at his hand, which Tony could see had marker on it. “You know what? I’m not telling you. This is embarrassing. I hate this.”
Tony grabbed for his hand but mostly missed, too focused on his drink. “Tell me what it’s called!”
The waiter sighed again, looking like no one was more put upon than he. He looked back down at his hand. “It’s called the ‘smile for me, sunshine.’”
Tony gaped up at him, speechless.
“I’m pretty sure it’s just a lemon basil margarita,” the waiter added. When Tony only continued to gape up at him, he added a hasty, “Enjoy your drink,” before bolting back toward the bar.
Tony watched him get into a very quiet, very heated argument with the bartender, who was very handsome and very unapologetic, if his smug expression was anything to go by.
Well, it did taste good, he decided. He tipped the half-empty glass at the bartender, who punched the waiter in the shoulder and grinned triumphantly.
Tony had barely sat down on one of the lounge chairs when he was approached by the waiter again. The drink he was holding was blue, with a slice of pineapple on the rim. He looked miserable.
“I know what this is,” Tony offered. “Blue Hawaiian, right?”
The waiter sighed. “Technically, yes.” He looked at his hand, face twisting with dismay. “But he said to call it ‘the skies after I saw your smile.’”
“Granted, you’ve only smiled once since I’ve seen you, but it’s a nice smile, I guess,” the waiter added.
“You guess?!” Tony squawked, irrationally offended. Rude. The bartender thought his smile had cleared the clouds from the sky and this guy thought it was a nice smile, he guessed. Ridiculous. Tony was a delight.
“It’s on the house,” the waiter said hastily before darting away.
Tony scowled after him and took a long, obnoxious slurp of his drink. Then he took another, slower drink, pleased. It was good. And he wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t flattered that his smile had brightened someone’s day. He glanced at the bartender, who wasn’t even pretending not to be looking at him for his reaction, and smiled at him.
The bartender lit up like a Christmas tree and waved.
Tony waved back shyly. He thought about getting up and going over to him, having a conversation, but just as he was pushing himself to the edge of his seat, he saw someone pointing at him as she whispered to her friend.
He felt like he’d had a bucket of ice water thrown on him. He’d been having so much fun that he’d forgotten for a moment where he was. Who he was. He wasn’t just a guy enjoying a cruise and flirting with a bartender; he was Tony Stark, who had only just recently been cleared of the treason his business partner was found guilty of.
Tony put the glass down, stood up, and walked back to his room. He wondered when they’d pull into port so he could go home and hole up in his own house.
“Hey,” the waiter said softly. “This is your third one.”
“And I’ll probably have a fourth one,” Tony snapped, taking the glass of whiskey off his tray. “Mind your own business and leave me alone.”
The waiter took a deep breath, then let it back out through his nose slowly. “Okay,” he said, and turned and walked away.
Tony scowled down at his glass. Pepper had insisted he stay on the cruise. She’d said he could come home, of course, if he was really unhappy, but would it really have made him feel better to come home? And he had to admit she had a point. At least here, on the cruise ship, he wouldn’t look around his home and remember all the things that Obie had done for him, made him feel grateful for. All Obie had really been doing was manipulating him. Those weren’t actually good memories; just memories of him being used by someone he trusted.
Tony threw the whiskey back and wondered how drunk he would have to be for his falling overboard to be considered an accident, and then immediately felt bad for it. He didn’t… didn’t really think that way. He was just… sad.
“You okay?” someone asked, sitting down beside him.
Tony frowned down at his empty glass. “As okay as I’ll ever be,” he decided. He turned. “Why do you―” ask, was on the tip of his tongue, because no one ever actually cared if he was okay, not unless they were Rhodey or Pepper or Happy.
But it was the bartender, and he looked concerned. That was unfortunate, Tony decided. He was so impossibly handsome, had been so nice to him, and here Tony was, just… being himself. He shouldn’t concern himself over Tony. Tony took a peek at his name tag. Sam. Sam was such a nice name. Too bad Tony wasn’t a nice person.
“Steve mentioned I should cut you off soon,” the bartender said, turning the glass in front of him in slow circles. “You’re drinking a lot and you’re drinking it quickly, so I agreed with him. This is your last drink tonight.” He slid the glass over to sit in front of him instead. “Here. Vodka cranberry.”
“Oh,” Tony said, somewhat disappointed. Just a vodka cranberry. But that was fine! He wasn’t in a very good mood anyway, so if Sam decided he wasn’t worth flirting with anymore―
“It’s the same shade of pink as your cheeks were when Steve told you I thought you had a nice smile,” Sam explained, smiling a little, before he got up and went back to the bar.
Tony stared down at his drink, stunned, cheeks going redder than the cranberry juice in it.
“So, uh,” Tony said, sidling up to the bar. “Um, this is the last night of my cruise.”
“Yup,” Sam said, looking amused. “Seven days is typical on these.”
Tony nodded, nervously rubbing his sweaty palms over his slacks. “Yeah. And I uh―well, I was wondering if―”
Sam raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Yeah?”
Tony wanted to die. He’d never been bad at this before. “I was… I wondered if you’d… um…”
Sam began to look concerned. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if deciding to let him try to finish.
Tony wished he’d put him out of his misery instead. He couldn’t just ask him out though, right? That was… rude. Service workers complained about being hit on all the time just for doing their jobs and being nice about it. But Sam had been… flirting, hadn’t he? The ‘smile for me, sunshine?’ The ‘the skies after I saw your smile?’ The vodka cranberry the same shade as his blush? It had to mean something, right?
“Make me one last drink?” he finally said lamely.
Sam looked a little disappointed even as he reached for the glasses, but then he smiled at him. It was dimmer, somehow. “Of course. What did you want?”
Tony’s mind raced. Should he ask for one of his previous drinks? Should he be cute and make one up with a flirtatious name? Should he just bite the bullet and ask for Sam’s number instead?
In the end, he did none of those things, and said, “I’d like sex on the beach.”
Sam gaped at him, speechless.
Tony stared back at him, stunned, then nodded to himself. “Yup.” Then he turned around and ran away, mortified.
“You are a hard man to find,” Sam complained, leaning against the doorway.
Tony squeaked. The mortification hadn’t faded. In fact, seeing Sam here, now, leaning in his doorway and being stupidly attractive doing it, the mortification was ratcheting up higher and higher.
“…You walked away without your drink,” Sam said, and held up a highball glass, the bottom filled with deep red liquid, with a perfect, slow gradient all the way to a soft yellow at the top. It was beautiful. “I worked hard on it. You should appreciate it.”
Sam stared at him for a moment, concerned, before smirking at him. “I’ll just leave this here. It’s on the house.”
“Sam,” Tony squeaked as the drink was pressed into his hands.
“And here’s my phone number,” Sam added, tucking a slip of paper into the pocket of his gaudy Hawaiian shirt. “So you can text me. Because I’ve still got four months on this ship. But it’ll be worth it if I can meet up with you again.”
“I didn’t really want sex on the beach,” Tony said, absolutely not squeaking anymore, no matter what anyone might say. “It just came out.”
Sam laughed. “I know. I figured that out when you said you wanted sex on the beach and not ‘a sex on the beach.’ I just figured it was a good excuse to track you down and give you my number.”
“Oh,” Tony said, blushing, and grabbed the maraschino cherry to pop into his mouth for lack of anything better to do.
Sam watched him, licking his lips as Tony licked some of the drink from his finger. “…Work,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “I’m still working.”
“Then you should get back to the bar,” Tony offered, finally managing a coy smile.
“You can pretend to be a minx all you want but you told me you wanted sex on the beach and then ran away,” Sam said.
Tony considered this, then closed the door to his room.
“I think it’s cute!” Sam called through the door.
Tony took a long slurp from his drink.
“Text me! No embarrassment allowed!” Sam called again.
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t!” Tony called back.
“You will,” Sam said confidently.
Tony pulled the door open just far enough to peek out, watching him walk away. “I will,” Tony agreed to himself softly, smiling a little.
“So… sex on the beach?” Sam teased, duffle bag slung over one shoulder.
“I know you’re just saying that to make fun of me but as someone who has had sand in places that sand should not be, sex on the beach is never. Happening,” Tony informed him primly, and then squawked when Sam laughed so hard he almost took a header off the dock.
2087
ellievsbear
amandla
baratheonpilled
origamiaround
