Work Text:
"You're Tony Stark's employee," Steve says.
Tony turns the mask to face him, because the faceplate irritatingly hides such things as obvious facial reactions to stupid statements. "Are we saying obvious things? Is this a new concussion check protocol?"
Steve blushes a little under his mask. "I just mean, maybe you'd know more about him than I do."
"One would think so," Tony says, only just about managing not to smirk so widely that it's audible in his tone.
"It's just—I asked him to dinner the other day," Steve says.
Tony smiles automatically. That had been a nice surprise. "He told me."
"Yeah?" Steve perks up, looking pleased. "Well. I just. It was on the spur of the moment, because I'd been building up the courage to ask—"
"A lot of people say he's intimidating to talk to," Tony sighs.
"They're wrong, he's really nice," Steve protests immediately.
Tony basks guiltily in the praise. "Well. When you don't catch him thirty hours into a paperwork bender."
"Well, yes, there is that," Steve agrees.
Tony glowers at him sourly, because sometimes the mask does have its benefits. "So what did you want to know? I presume you wanted insight to something in particular?"
"Oh, yeah." Steve blinks. "Yeah, I just wanted to know if he liked Italian food?"
"Sure," Tony says. Wait. Was that too casual?
"Does your boss have any food allergies?" Steve asks.
"Uh," Tony says, frantically scanning his HUD readouts for more information; damn these wily Villains for Hire; they've gotten infinitely better at hiding since their last skirmish, "what?"
"It's just," Steve says, throwing his shield at Stilt-Man's legs, and grinning when Stilt-Man comically falls on his ass, "there are all these fancy tasting menus, but they're fixed, so maybe it's better not to book one of those."
"I guess I see that," Tony breathes, edging a repulsor blast at where he's pretty sure Death-Stalker's hiding—he curses when he only manages to catch part of her cloak as she skips out of the way just in time. "Uh, no allergies, though."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Great," Steve says. "Watch out: Bombshell!" He holds up his shield and protects both of them from one of Bombshell's grenades.
"You know Mr. Stark really well, don't you?" Steve asks. "To know about him not having any food allergies, I mean."
"Do we have to talk about this now?" Tony shoots Steve an appalled look; Avalanche is shooting wave after wave of energy at them, loosing so much debris on them that Tony's having a hard time blasting it away before it hits them.
"I just wanted to know if he's ever said anything about me," Steve says, looking crestfallen.
"Of course he talks about you," Tony says, hurriedly; Steve looking sad is the worst feeling ever. "All the time."
"Good," Steve says.
"Duck!" Tony yells, and throws Steve to one side to avoid being crushed under the wall that Avalanche has managed to completely dislodge.
"Iron Man," Steve says.
Tony, sitting in an exhausted heap, scowls up at Steve. "If this is something else about my boss's romantic preferences, I'm gonna shoot you."
"It's not," Steve says. "I was just going to ask if you were okay."
"Oh," Tony says, smiling when Steve sits next to him. "Yeah. Just tired. That was a long battle."
"I suppose so," Steve annoyingly says; the serum means it takes a lot more to wear him out.
"Thanks for asking."
"Sure." Steve beams. "Um."
Tony exhales. "What?"
"But should I take him flowers or something? On our date, I mean?"
Tony switches his microphone off so at least Steve is saved from the strangled yell he makes. He takes a deep breath and switches it back on. "You really shouldn't take flowers."
Steve's face falls. "Aw. But they're romantic. I want him to know my intentions from the start."
"Flowers aren't a good idea. I'm allergic."
Steve's eyebrows knot. "What do your allergies have to do with me giving flowers to Tony Stark?"
"Uh," Tony says. "Because—" Oh shit. Steve's expression shifts into a suspicious one. "Because he usually puts his flowers in the lab, and he works on me in the lab, so—"
"Oh. Oh, I'll ask him to put them in his bedroom or something." Steve's cheeks go a little pink. "I'm sure he wouldn't deliberately make you uncomfortable, Iron Man. You should tell him when things bother you."
"Haha," Tony says weakly, "yeah."
When the date comes, it's really nice. Italian food, a lovely tasting menu, and Steve's engaged enough when Tony talks, laughing politely at the funny parts. But still, Tony feels like something is wrong. Like only half of Steve has come on the date with him.
He decides to confront Steve at the end of the meal, mostly because Steve's glaring moodily into his cup of coffee like it's deeply wronged him somehow.
"Steve," Tony says, slowly. "I've had a nice time. But it seems to me that—" regrettably "—your heart isn't really in it. Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"
Steve looks up, his face suddenly awash with misery. "I'm so sorry, Tony. I was having a swell time. It's just—" He shuffles, awkwardly. "I don't think this is the right situation to talk about this—"
Tony pulls a face of disbelief at that, because Steve thought chatting about this date was a perfectly fine situation to talk about during a supervillain fight, but he can't exactly bring that up right now.
"It's fine," Tony says, reassuringly, even though his own heart is sinking. Well, it's not like his heart isn't already damaged; what's a little more bruising to add to the scars, eh?
"I think I might like Iron Man," Steve says, a little hurriedly. He looks at Tony with a shy expression. "I'm really sorry."
"Oh, no, don't be," Tony says, thunderstruck.
"I'm surprised you're not mad at me."
"Well," Tony says, holding back the noise he wants to make, "certainly I'm disappointed. But I'm not surprised. Iron Man's pretty great." Tony can say that easily; Iron Man is all the best parts of him, after all.
"I'm so relieved that you're okay," Steve breathes. "I'm really sorry."
"Don't be," Tony says, internally screaming. "It's fine."
Steve nods awkwardly, then looks at Tony speculatively. "You know Iron Man really well," Steve says, "does he like Italian food?"
Tony thumps his head down onto the table and gives in to the strangled noise he was holding back.

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