Match Made (Steve/Tony)
(Thanks to Emily for the VERY old prompt in POTS that I used for this!)
Tony tapped his fingers against the side of his sweaty coke glass. “Yeah?” he said, on a sigh. “Crazy.”
His date, an unfortunate match on Tinder, barely paused in his monologue about drama at his office to acknowledge Tony’s existence. “So then Laurie started implementing strict rules about copier codes, and it’s all gone to shit since then.”
Tony raised an eyebrow, nodding, then popped another gnocchi in his mouth. He chewed slowly, taking the excuse not to have anything to say.
The launched into another treatise, this time on the importance of hiring an interior decorator, and Tony’s attention wandered to the long line of the bar behind his date. A cute blonde guy in an old-school Dodgers jersey was waiting for his order, elbows hooked over the edge of the bar nearly holding him up on his toes. He was snack-sized, but delicious, and Tony found himself wishing he’d ordered something different tonight.
“So?” Tony’s date leaned closer. “Am I going to like it?”
“Sorry, what?”
“Your apartment. Am I going to like the design? You seem like a sleek, modern guy to me.” He winked.
Tony’s dinner threatened to come back up. He just couldn’t take it anymore. He hated to walk out on a date - his last name was just well-known enough that it could cause trouble for him to make a scene - but this guy had been nothing but rude, condescending, and presumptuous. Tony cursed Tinder once more for ruining a night that could have been spent in his jimjams with a pint of rocky road and the game on.
Then the cute nibble by the bar looked up and caught Tony’s eye, and Tony decided to go for broke.
He grinned, huge and sudden, and waved over his date’s shoulder at the guy. “Oh my god!” he called. He pointed at himself. “It’s Tony!”
The guy, clearly confused, took a few steps over to their table. “Sorry, I -”
“It’s been years!” Tony exclaimed. “I can’t believe it. How’ve you been?” He reached out and pulled the man into a gentle hug, whispering, “I’m so sorry, but please go with it,” into his ear before stepping back.
The man opened his mouth, closed it, then tilted his head to the side like a curious dog. His eyes cut to Tony’s date and the light bulb went off. “Oh, my god, Tony?” he said graciously. “I didn’t even recognize you!”
Tony hoped the sheer relief that was rushing through him wasn’t visible to his date. “I know, right. It’s been forever. God, you look great!”
Tony’s date stood up. “Hi, there. Old friend of Tony’s?” He reached out a hand to shake.
“Steve,” Tony’s white knight said. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” He looked significantly between Tony and their mostly finished meal. “Were you ready to go, then, Tony? I’ll grab the check.”
“Don’t you dare,” Tony insisted. “It’s on me.” He flagged the waiter down. “Look, I hate to cut things off so sharply, D-a-? Daryl?” Suddenly all Tony could remember was the guy’s dating profile name. Big D. How had he ever swiped right? “But Steve and I haven’t seen each other in donkey’s years and I just have to catch up. I’ll call you?”
“Oh.” Big D was clearly deeply disappointed. “I thought we were going back to your place?”
I never said that, Tony resisted the urge to growl. “Not on a first date, champ. But I appreciate the enthusiasm. I had a great time.” He smiled politely.
Steve shuffled closer to Tony, radiating a fierce protectiveness that was startling, both because it came in such a small package and because he and Tony had only just met. “Nice to meet you, Daryl.”
Daryl huffed. “Alright. Well. Goodnight, then. I’ll order a cab.” He grabbed Tony’s sleeve and pulled him in to press a kiss to his cheek, then turned and made his way up to the bar, where he took a stool and pulled out his phone.
The waiter handed Tony the check. “Uh,” Tony said to Steve. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind. Was he being a problem? Should we call someone?”
“Oh, no. Just not a good fit. But he clearly isn’t someone who likes to hear no and I wanted to end things as quietly as possible.” Tony looked back up to the bar. Daryl was ordering a beer. “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“Well, I thought he was going to get a cab and go, but apparently he’s decided to drink his sorrows away instead. Which means if I leave, he’ll probably follow me and take another crack at it. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. Come join my table.”
“Oh, god, no. I can’t possibly ruin your night even further.”
Steve laughed. “I promise you won’t be ruining anything. My friends will get a kick out of it. You can have dessert with us while you wait for him to either get too drunk to notice you leaving or leave himself.”
“You sure?”
“Of course. Come on.” Steve took Tony’s hand and gently led him over to a booth where two men and a woman were waiting. “This is Natasha, Sam, and Bucky.” Steve pointed them out. “Guys this is Tony.” He dropped his voice low. “His date was being kinda shitty, so we’re pretending we’re old friends.”
Bucky immediately scowled. “Who do we have to beat up?"
Sam’s hand landed on Bucky’s arm. "Down boy.”
Steve shook his head. “Already offered. Not needed. Just keep Tony company while I grab the drinks.”
Natasha patted the booth seat next to her, and Tony slid in.
A piece of chocolate truffle cheesecake, a beer, and a coffee later, Tony loved Steve’s friends. He was almost grateful for the fact that Daryl had stayed at the bar, scrolling Insta and downing beers, one eye occasionally cutting over to find Tony, because it meant Tony had an excuse to stay right where he was.
He’d learned that Bucky and Sam were engaged and the wedding planning was absolute chaos. He learned that Steve had met Natasha when he took her kickboxing class at the community centre and they’d been inseparable ever since.
He learned that Steve was bi, single, and that Tony was “exactly his type,” according to Bucky and confirmed by the pink glow on the tips of Steve’s ears.
As the night wore on, Steve, who had perched himself on the edge of the bench seat next to Tony, had sunk closer and closer, almost tucked up under Tony’s arm. Tony longed to pull him into his hold properly. How had a night doomed to failure ended up so amazing?
The rest of the table floated away, and all Tony could really focus on was the guy beside him.
Steve took a sip of his drink then caught Tony watching. He looked up, blushing, smiling. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Tony braced his chin on his hand, elbow rested on the table, curled towards Steve.
“You know…” Steve started, biting his lip.
“Yeah?”
“There’s one thing that’ll definitely turn Daryl off you forever.”
“Oh, yeah?” Tony leaned closer. “What’s that?”
Steve’s eyes flicked down to Tony’s lips. “I -” He leaned in a little then paused, leaving the last few inches for Tony to take.
Tony took them. He dipped down and pressed his lips to Steve’s, gently, chaste, but there was still an electric charge to it, one that had them both breaking apart with a gasp. “Wow,” Tony breathed.
“So I know you don’t go home with someone on the first date, but how about a second date?” Steve asked.
Tony laughed. “This counts as our first?”
“Course it does."
"I dunno, Steve,” Tony said, and Steve’s confident smile wavered a little. “Since we’re old friends, surely it counts as at least our fourth or fifth?”
The smile reappeared. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, then. Want to come back to my place and keep catching up?”
“I’d be delighted.”
