Note: Let me start out by saying that I plan on finishing this. I only have 7 of the 12 planned chapters written (3 typed, 4 handwritten), but my goal is to start and finish this story by the end of the year. Updates will be twice a month around the first and third Friday/ Saturday. I am staring a new job in a different country, so please bear with me if I fall behind. I want to make sure I meet my goal and what I produce is good quality content.
Fair warning that there will be some period specific homophobic language due to the historical context, but I'm trying to keep it at a minimum. Please let me know if I need to give any other warnings about triggers and such.
Quick thanks to my beta kuailong.
"Hey, this the line for food?"
Steve inspected the stranger. Basic observations, nothing more. Average height for a male. Steady scruff of hair along the jawline (ruled out mafia. Mafia weren't allowed facial hair). A little shifty, but didn't look like the trouble makin' variety. Shifty like those who just came off the boat lookin' for a better lot in life.
"Yeah. Line starts behind me," he said.
The man whistled. "Damn, and I thought Boston was bad."
"Not from around here, I take it." It was more of a statement than a question. His knack for the language (or lack thereof) ruled out immigrant, and he definitely didn't sound like a local. Didn't have the same accent as the boys in Brooklyn. "Looking for work?" he asked. Guy wasn't dressed to impress, but even Steve could appreciate a fine looking fellow if given the space.
The suit he wore was nice. A gently worn tweed jacket and trousers hugged his body and kept out the occasional nip of spring air (and considering the times, it looked in good condition). A miss-matched cap hid what looked like a mess of dark curls and a brilliant pair of brown eyes.
The man shrugged, looking a little lost in the oversized coat (must belong to a neighbor). "Isn't everyone? I got a telegram last week saying my skills could be of use up here. Don't got nothing much better to do back home, so might as well take a chance."
Steve smiled. "Good to hear. Not much work for us advertisement artists, but I'll pray for you." Maybe he wasn't getting work for his art, but that didn't mean he couldn't hope for the prosperity of others.
The man raised a well-groomed eyebrow. "Religious?"
"Catholic," Steve replied with a cautious breath. "Irish Catholic." His eyes darted across the stranger's face, looking for some clue. The reaction Steve was used to was usually instantaneous. But so far, no sign of the usual disgust. "Do you-"
"Me? No," the man brushed off the comment like it was nothing. "Parents were Italian and Spanish. Hence the soft leather skin," he said with a mischievous eyebrow waggle that made Steve want to laugh. "You'll get none of that religious bigotry from me."
"Thanks," said Steve with a sigh of relief. "You don't know how many times that has caused a fist fight or two. Not easy to be an immigrant here."
"Or a child of an immigrant," the stranger said with a knowing look.
Steve nodded in agreement as wordless seconds of shared history passed between them. Things like that didn't need to be said. It was a common enough experience among first generation Americans. The bullying, prejudice, pain, and confusion was something they faced every day. To find someone else with a similar story in such a bustling city was always an unsaid comfort. To know you weren't alone, or going crazy, as faceless people went about their business was a reassurance.
"Where are my manners," Steve said, breaking the silence and offering a hand. "I'm Steve. Steve Rogers."
"Anthony," he said with a calloused grip of his hand. Working man then."But everyone calls me Tony."
Steve let out a quiet laugh. "Don't they understand the irony?"
Tony smiled, a dazzling bright smile that lit up his face. "I don't think they do."
"You should tell them," said Steve, relaxing against the red brick wall for the first time since he got in line. "To-ny. To NY (New York)." Immigration joke. It was low, but from the looks of it, the joke made Tony smile.
Tony shook his head, smile still on his face. "Nah. I already gave them ridiculous nicknames to get 'em back. Good pal of mine James Rhodes. Met him while I was at college, call him Rhodey. Hated when I first started calling him that, but it stuck. And I got this gal, Pepper, her first name is Virginia of all things. Why her parents name her that, I will never know. But, she's got the prettiest peppering of freckles over her face, couldn't help myself when I saw her. She hates it, good god she almost slapped me when I called her that for the first time. But what can I say, my charming personality wore her down."
Steve felt his heart sink a little, and he silently he berated himself. He was not feeling jealous of a guy he just met, he told his sinful heart. He was not! It wasn't possible and it was most definitely not appropriate. "Your friends are back in Boston or here in Brooklyn?"
"Here? Are you kidding me?" Tony scoffed. "There is no way they would have bad enough taste to live in a place like this. And even if they did, I would do everything in my power to make sure they didn't take up residence here. No, we have the good sense to take up residence on Manhattan until they find work. Nothing too fancy, mind you, but anything better than this dump."
Steve felt his heart being crushed. Better now than later. But it was his town. His baby Brooklyn that was being insulted. And by the look on Tony's face, he was beginning to realize what he had done. Bucky always did say when Steve got sad or confused he could easily mistaken for a kicked puppy.
"This dump that you clearly live in. God I'm an idiot! Don't listen to me. No, wait. Listen to me and slap me if I say something stupid like that again. Then again, don't because if that was true Pepper would have slapped me five ways 'till Sunday by now. God Tony, can you ramble more than you already do? I mean, I know I ramble when I'm working on stuff, or when I'm nervous, or when I'm drunk-"
"Tony," Steve said, trying to interrupt his line of thought.
"Can I say that? I mean, prohibition and all, but a guy's gotta find a way to kick back and relax, you know? And if you think I'm bad now, you don't want to even think about when I-"
"Tony!"
Steve could physically see Tony skid to a stop when he broke through Tony's train of thought. Was he shaking? God, what had Tony been through to react like this? It was only an apology for a silly little thing. Well, it wasn't silly to Steve, but that didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was Tony, and Tony was in pain right now.
In his gut, Steve wanted to reach out and reassure Tony that everything was okay. He had just met the guy, but he wanted to touch him and take some of the pain away. Any part of it. Even the smallest bit would help. A juvenile part of him wished could kiss it and that would make it all better.
But that was impossible.
Instead he gave Tony a smile. A easy, but heartfelt smile that said, 'I'm sorry. I'm here if you need me.' But he couldn't say that outloud. That wasn't right. Instead Steve said, "It's fine. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions."
Those few words made the shaking stop. Tony's face brightened a little at the gesture, and it made Steve's heart hurt more. Just a few words made all the difference? What the hell? What type of people had he been spending time with? He wanted to do more to help Tony. Could he do more? Didn't matter. He would do more.
Steve loosened his shoulders, trying to make as light of the situation as he could. "Just don't knock me for saying the Brooklyn Dodgers are leagues better than the New York Yankees," he said with a carefree grin.
Tony's mouth dropped. "You didn't." The smug shit eating grin on Steve's face grew in tandem with Tony's smile. "You fight dirty Rogers. Saying something like that on your home turf. You know I can't say anything against you if I don't want to start a riot."
"I have no idea what you mean mister," said the towering giant of a man, with the largest most innocent looking baby blue eyes Steve could muster without looking like a fag.
Tony smiled. A real big Cheshire cat smile that wrinkled around his eyes like soft cloth. "You're evil Rogers."
"And you're short," said Steve, returning the smile tenfold.
By the time the two got to the front of the breadline, they were talking as if they were long lost friends, reunited after years of separation. With a cold loaf of bread and a can of beans, it took a sharp glare of light from an alley to remind Steve that the world kept spinning despite his newfound friendship with Tony.
"Meeting someone?" asked Tony.
Steve cursed silently. Damn, Tony was sharp. "Yeah, just a friend," he said casually.
It took a few seconds before Steve realized that he was feeling a slight heaviness in his lungs. His feet felt heavy too, and the only thing he could do to ease the feeling was to shuffle them back and forth across the cobbled street. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay. Here. He wanted to say something, anything to ease the drawn out silence, but finding one good thing out of the million of inappropriate thoughts was impossible. "That was nice," he finally said.
"Yeah."
Steve mentally slapped himself for sounding like an idiot. "Will I see you again sometime?"
"Maybe," replied Tony with a shrug. "Not to dismiss Brooklyn's hospitality, but it takes too long to get here."
"Yeah, I don't blame you," Steve said with a heavy sigh, trying his hardest to hide his disappointment.
The awkward silence was back in full force. Steve racked his brain for something to say. Something that wouldn't come off as too forward or too distant. But as soon as he came up with something that would be a suitable middle ground, Tony muttered a "bye" and began to walk off, away from Steve.
Steve opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish. The words wanted to come out, but his mind held him back like a chain. Tony was almost a block way before Steve yelled out what he struggled to say for what felt like an eternity.
"Tuesdays," he called. Steve's hands began to sweat when Tony stopped but didn't turn around. "I'm usually here on Tuesdays. Sometimes on Thursdays," he called once more.
The world froze for a second as Steve waited, neither of them moving. It felt like the ground would fall out from under him any minute. Steve's body trembled, Did he say too much? Was he too forward? God, why hadn't he agreed to let Bucky set him up?
But when Tony turned around and tipped his cap to Steve. That rush of heat to his chest suddenly made it all worth it.
"Tuesdays," Tony said with that dashing smile. "I'll remember that."
Steve watched with a smile as long as he could. He waited a few seconds after Tony rounded a corner before returning to the light from the alley.
"Really Bucky? Was that necessary?" asked Steve as he passed his best friend and right hand man hidden between the tight of the brick walls.
"Don't blame me." Bucky said flippantly. "If it was a dame, I'd be one thing. Assuming you were trying for the thing. But a guy? What were you thinking?"
"Just making conversation," said Steve with a shrug. He tried to convince himself that he hadn't been eying Tonly more than strictly necessary as they parted ways.
"In the breadline?" asked Bucky, taking the lead.
"Gotta' do something to keep me occupied," Steve said as he followed Bucky back to base.
"As opposed to what? Thinking of ways to keep punks like Schmidt off our turf?"
Steve rolled his eyes. "Can't be a brilliant tactician if all I think about is work. Gotta keep a clear mind, keep my options open."
"Not doubting that," replied Bucky in a low tone that suggested more than he said.
"Bucky!"
"What?"
"It's not like that."
Bucky whirled around, clearly livid with Steve's denial. "I did not just hear you say that after you were clearing giving that guy the eye."
"Bucky."
"Look Steve. I don't care. I really don't. Maybe I don't know how you contracted the sickness, and maybe there is no cure. I don't care. It doesn't really change who you are or who you have been after all these years. And if I was going to catch it, you or Wilson would have given it to me by now. But Steve, you can't. You just can't. And not just because he's a guy, no matter how screwed up I think that is. You gotta' think about the family Steve. You gotta' think of them. We've got territory to protect, people to feed. Maybe if he lived in the area, but he doesn't. Besides, he looks like a normal guy. He wouldn't understand either parts of you."
Steve gave a forlorn look at the can, heavy in his hand, rotating it around with his thumb as if the answer was written on the simple label. His chest ached as he gave out a longing sigh. "He said there was a gal. Pepper. That's what he called her."
Bucky swung a comforting arm around his shoulders. "See? Guys like that only lead to heartache."
Steve nuzzled into Bucky neck, his natural sweaty sent wrapped around Steve like a familiar blanket. It reminded him of all those nights' years ago, when he was a skinny little thing, huddled up against Bucky for warmth against the cold winter nights. God he hated his weakness. "I hate it when you make sense," Steve mumbled.
"Someone's gotta' when you're jumping off a plane without a chute," murmured Bucky.
Steve could only smirk. "Punk"
"Jerk," replied Bucky knocking their heads together. "Now, what's say we get this food to people who need it before the bread gets any staler. Or, we can find some Hydra scum to knock around. You always feel better after that."
Steve looked up with those irresistible baby blues with an innocent face he swore was not intentional.
"Why not both?"
Around the corner from where Tony and Steve separated, sat a fancy black limousine for two. A stout man with a black cap sat up front and barely moved as Tony approached the car.
"How was Brooklyn?" asked Happy as Tony pulled the car door shut.
"Terrible," muttered Tony, quickly shucking the cap to the empty seat by his side. "But if someone asks me to pick one good thing about this stink hole, it wouldn't be too hard."
"Find something you like boss?"
Tony smiled, silently remembering how gorgeous Steve's smile was and how good it made him feel just to hear the guy laugh. His muscles hidden underneath heavily worn clothes were drool worthy, and his stature was so very climbable. Steve's accent. Steve's voice. Guy could be a model or a radio personality if he wasn't so set on being on the other side of the paper. It all made his heart beat just a few seconds faster than normal.
Steve Rogers of Brooklyn. Goddamn. Someone did a good job.
"Or someone," Tony said with an appreciative smirk.
With an understanding nod, Happy started the car and pulled out from the curb. "Where to boss?"
"Home," replied Tony, breathing in the rich smell of leather. He reached for the change of clothes Pepper had prepared for him earlier that day. A charcoal grey suit and red silk tie. Perfect for taking over the world. "And schedule time to come back next Tuesday. We've got a lot to do if we want to make the territory ours."
"Stark Industries or the Iron Family?"
Tony smiled at the passing scenery as he slipped out of the poor man persona and slipped back into Tony Stark: billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and small time boss.
"Why not both?"
Feedback is good. Yes, I am writing this for myself, but it's always nice to know that someone else enjoyed my work.
There will be no update next week because I'm going to visit family for Golden Week. (Guess which country I'm in.)
Follow me on my tumbler (miniblackraven) and see all the shit I reblog. Also find this same story and more on AO3 under the name miniraven.