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Your Subtlety Needs Work (I Can Help You With That)

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"Psst, Steve." when Steve doesn't answer Sam sighs, and edges closer to prod at his side, "Steveeeeee." voice turning into a high pitched whine.

"What Sam?" Steve looks up from where he is poured over his portfolio, careful that the scalding hot coffee doesn't leave any rings.

"Be cool about it, but take a look over there." Sam cranes his neck, looking to all the world like a stork that has dislocated its neck.

Steve puts down the cardboard he holds in his hands, Sam once distracted is like a dog with a bone, so until Sam is satisfied he's had Steve's undivided attention, Steve isn't getting anything else done.

"Are you referring to the little elderly woman who has just taken her dentures out, or the man in the suit and goatee?" Steve asks with a hint of humour when Sam shakes his head quickly.

"Of course the dude, c'mon man. Don't you recognize who it is?" Sam asks, eyes widening almost comically when Steve answers in negative, "Are you from the stone ages Steve? Did someone freeze you by accident? It's Tony Stark! I've got to take a photo, otherwise the guys at work will never believe it. He's much hotter in person, don't you think?"

Steve tunes out the white noise of Sam jostling around for his phone, instead taking in the man Sam pointed out. He's good looking, in a cultured and groomed kind of way. Steve's tastes normally run a bit more... rugged, but there is something the leashed ability, the elegance of the man. The Van Dyke he sports would look ridiculous on anyone else, but he pulls it off with an effortless ability. His body, or what Steve can see of it, looks lithe and muscular, all angles Steve aches to stretch and sketch out. His salt-and-pepper hair only serves to make him look distinguished, aged like a fine wine that has been meticulously maintained.

He looks like a dagger wrapped in silk, Steve muses.

So lost in his thoughts, he doesn't recognize Sam's stupidly obvious attempts to get a good camera angle.

That is at least until Sam takes a photo, click and flash loud enough to stumble everyone in the cafe out of their thoughts. The man, Tony, Steve's brain supplies, looks up, and blue connects with hazel brown.

"Fuck!" Sam curses from beside him, and throws the phone at Steve in a flurry of panicked movement before bolting for the front door at a speed so fast Steve was sure he must have had wings.

"Excuse me," a rich baritone rumbles from above Steve's head, where he's still sat staring at the iPhone in a complete daze. Steve looks up and Tony Stark is stood with an amused smile infusing his face, "But I can't help but notice that that is my face on your screen. You'd only have to ask and I can take a photo with you, I'm not shy."

The smile following those words is all teeth, the look in the man's eyes all promise.

"Oh. Um. This isn't my phone! Yes, this is you on the phone though. As in, the picture, here, in my hands. But I wasn't the photographer! That is to say, I wasn't, I didn't- But I didn't take it! I swear! It was a friend!" Steve rambled, panicked.

Tony only grinned harder, "Where is this 'friend' then?"

"Uh, he ran, because he's an idiot." Steve muttered the last part under his breath, and because his treacherous mouth loved running on, "He was only taking a photo because he thought you were handsome."

Tony's left eyebrow quirks up in question and if anyone fancies on just wiping out Steve's entire existence he'd be much obliged, "Always nice to meet a fan. Though it was just your... friend who found me handsome?"

Steve answers in a knee-jerk fashion because apparently his life can't get much more embarrassing, "No, I think you are gorgeous as well. I'd love to sketch you."

Really Rogers?

"Huh. Well, you don't happen to have your own phone on you then? I wouldn't mind giving you a ring sometime and showing you my etchings." Tony falls into flirting as quickly as breathing, and Steve swears he can feel a blush spread across his face as he scrambles to find his own phone, nearly dropping Sam's in the process.

Tony keys in his own number, muttering something about how he'll have to get Steve a better model than this hunk of junk, ("An iPhone, really? We're gonna have to get you a better phone than this if we hang out more often.") before ringing his own phone once so he has the number, and handing the slim screen back to the lost for words Steve.

"All that talk of attractive people, and I still didn't catch your name?" Tony asks, and at this point Steve feels emboldened, drunk on the number he now has in his contacts, on the smile Tony keeps gracing him with, like he's the most fascinating thing Tony has ever seen.

"It's Steve Rogers."

"Well Steve, I'll definitely be seeing you." Tony grins, holding out his hand for a handshake that lasts a beat too long to be polite, rubbing his thumb over Steve's wrist that has Steve holding in a shudder, and turning Tony's smile into something more primal. Tony steps back and Steve already misses the extra warmth, following the man's exit from the coffee shop with hooded eyes (and he can swear that Tony puts an extra sway into his step as he leaves).

When Sam slinks back a couple of minutes later, ready to be chewed out, he is incredulous at the story Steve grants him.

"No fucking way man! How come you hook the hot ones?"

Steve laughs, and holds onto the warmth curling in the pit of his stomach when he notices a new calendar event in his phone's diary.

Tomorrow, 7pm, Can't wait to see you blue eyes.

Sam won't complain forever though, and he will get a better selfie with Tony, a year later, smiling with Steve on one side and Tony on the other in matching suits, with hands wearing matching wedding bands clasped on Sam's shoulders.