Drip by Drip
1/ Too big
Steve meets Tony Stark the first time after the whole Battle of New York thing at 3:30 am in the Avengers’ Tower communal kitchen. He’s not sure what he expected but a sleek businessman in a three-piece suite drinking from a travel mug literally as big as his head like a man starved wasn’t it.
”I’m getting too old for this,” Tony grumbles as he emerges for air. ”This is ridiculous.”
”What is?” Steve asks, wincing when Tony lets out an undignified yelp. ”Sorry. I thought you heard me coming in.”
Tony narrows his eyes at him and then shakes his head. ”Well, I didn’t but… whatever. I need coffee.”
To Steve’s mild horror, he stumbles to the massive chrome monstrosity on the counter and proceeds to fill the massive mug with coffee.
”How much have you had already?” He blurts before his mind catches up with him.
”Three,” Tony sniffs, ”but who’s counting. Not I.”
”That can’t be healthy—”
Slowly, Tony turns around wearing a grin that’s 90% teeth and 10% contempt. ”Dearest Cap. I have a massive electromagnet in my chest, I fly around in a metal suit, and last month I flew a nuke through a wormhole. All that on top of running my small business. I’d say coffee is the least of my health problems.”
Steve gives him a flat look. ”I didn’t mean that, and I bet you knew it.”
”I run on caffeine and spite,” Tony says, screws the lid on his mug and marches out of the kitchen.
(Later, Steve learns that Tony had been up for over 35 hours, dealing with a misconduct incident that had gotten seven people killed at an SI subcontractor facility. Tony had visited all families personally and oversaw a full inspection at the facility. It had been a grueling couple of days.)
2/ Too small
”Isn’t that a bit small for you?” Steve asks with a raised brow.
”Huh?” Tony hums, blinking his eyes slowly like a lazy cat. He’s curled in his plush chair in the corner of the common room, cradling a small cup in his hands like it’s something precious.
Steve nods at the cup. ”Usually, your coffee mugs are the size of a bucket. That looks like it belongs to a playset and not in your hand.”
”See, you confuse fuel with a treat. Coffee is something I need to function, and I need it a lot. But this?” He takes a sip, sighs, and offers the cup to Steve. ”Try it.”
Gingerly, he accepts the cup and peers into the nearly black liquid revealed under a layer of what looks like cream. It smells sharp and strong with an undercurrent of chocolate and, surprisingly, orange. But when he sips it, he realizes the scent is nothing compared to the almost syrupy feel and an intense flavor he doesn’t know how to describe. He takes another sip and lets it rest on his tongue before swallowing, and then—the cup is empty.
”This cup is too small,” Steve says, disappointed.
Tony chuckles, an amused glint in his eyes. ”It’s exactly the size it’s supposed to be. Regular coffee contains around 2% dissolved coffee solids—although my coffee is closer to 6%—but a properly brewed cup of espresso can have around 12%. It’s basically liquified coffee bean. It’s meant to be savored.” He shifts slightly and opens some complicated schematic on his StarkPad, immersing himself in his work almost immediately.
Steve watches him work for a moment before taking the cup into the kitchen. The small amount of strong coffee felt more than just a mouthful and he smacks his lips, trying to chase the taste still lingering on his lips.
(A couple of days later, JARVIS informs him that there are now several different coffee beans for him to explore, and asks if he could be so kind and keep this between Sir and him, there’s no need to tell Agent Barton about the coffee because he doesn’t appreciate it anyway, the heathen. JARVIS paraphrases, of course.)
3/ Too bitter
The doorframe rattles when Steve slams the door behind him and storms off. Junior agents take one look at his face and duck out of the way, desperate to be anywhere but near a furious Captain America.
”Too risky,” he spits under his breath. ”Fury can go to hell for all I care!”
He ends up in the third-floor break room which clears out in mere moments which he barely notices. Instead, he leans his hands against the counter and rests his forehead against the cheap cabinet, trying to get himself under control.
A sighting. A verified sighting of Bucky, on American soil, and Fury had the gall to order him to stay put.
Steve growls and in a sudden burst of frustrated anger, puts his fist through said cheap cabinet door.
”That’s one way to deal with it,” Tony says from the door. He saunters in and cocks his head. ”I’m not sure whether to be disappointed or unsurprised at the quality of SHIELD furniture but—ohh, coffee!”
Steve concentrates on breathing as he watches Tony putter around the coffee maker, muttering about subpar quality and flimsy machines. The chatter is familiar and comforting and by the time the coffee is ready, Steve feels more or less as himself again.
Tony pours himself a cup and makes a disgusted noise. ”This is…I don’t even know what this is. The package said coffee but this is even worse than the sludge DUM-E tries to serve me. How can people drink this? It’s atrocious! No wonder the SHIELD minions are always all over the place.”
”That might be just you,” Steve points out. His voice comes out slightly tight but it’s the thought that counts, right?
Tony waves his hand in the air. ”Pshh, I’m a delight to have around!”
It forces a bark of laughter out of Steve—which probably was Tony’s intention if the small twitch of his lips is anything to go by.
They stand in silence for a moment, Steve leaning against the counter and Tony standing beside him, holding the coffee cup. After a moment, he clasps Steve’s shoulder for a moment and says, ”I’ll help you find him, you know that, right?”
Steve meets his eyes and forces out a rough, ”Yeah.”
Tony holds his gaze for a moment. Then he sets the mug on the counter with a nod and walks out.
Steve watches him until he rounds the corner and then takes a sip of Tony’s coffee. ”Uh, this is atrocious,” he huffs, making a face at the bitter taste.
The feeling of Tony’s hand on his shoulder stays with him long after the bitterness in his mouth dissipates.
(Tony helps him to track down Bucky, and then promptly adopts him—or, more accurately, his arm—as his next pet project. One night, Steve hears them talk about Bucky’s time under the Hydra mind control and how he remembers killing Tony’s parents. When Tony says it wasn’t him but Hydra, Steve feels something flip in his stomach. He backs away from the workshop door, leaving Bucky and Tony to their talk.)
4/ Too sweet
”Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say, ’No, you move’.”
Steve closes his eyes and swallows, not even trying to hold back his tears. Tony sits beside him, still like a statue. His eyes are hidden behind shades but Steve knows they’re red and swollen. Peggy Carter might have been Steve’s…something for a moment, but to Tony, she was a beloved godmother, someone who always believed in him and loved him for who he was, not who he was supposed to be.
And now that Peggy is gone, Steve has lost his final tie to his past. Sure, Bucky is there but he’s still trying to figure out who he is after the whole 70 years of brainwashing thing. He’s not Steve’s Bucky anymore.
When it’s the time to carry out the casket, Steve falters for a moment, suddenly terrified that he can’t do it. But then Tony grips his arm so tight it’s almost painful and he draws strength from it. He might have to lay his past to rest today but he still has his future right here, next to him.
Or he thinks he has.
Later, at the reception, the waiter hands him a coffee with sugar and cream and he doesn’t have it in him to correct he takes his coffee black. He sips at the overly sweet brew and bites back his grimace, glad he chose to retreat to the side where hopefully no-one would bother him.
”She would’ve hated this,” Tony says quietly, settling next to him. ”All these people, this posturing.” He takes one glance at Steve’s coffee, shakes his head, and wordlessly picks the cup from him. ”Take mine. You’re not going to drink that anyway.”
Steve offers him a wan smile as thanks and downs the coffee at one go. It’s strong and bitter and so much better than the sweetened version.
Peggy liked her coffee with cream and sugar.
(They end up sitting in the balcony of Steve’s room, talking through the night. When Steve starts to cry, Tony gathers him in his arms and cards his fingers through his hair. Something about it reminds Steve of his Ma and he cries even harder. He wakes up a couple of hours later, his head pillowed on Tony’s lap and Tony snoring quietly. Despite the circumstances, it’s one of the best moments he’s had in a while.)
5/ Too complicated
There are many sides to Tony Stark, once you get to know him properly. He’s a brilliant businessman, a genius in his own right, ruthless when needed, and an absolute sweetheart underneath all the bravado and bluster. As they slowly learn their way around each other in their relationship, Steve revels in finding out new things about this brilliant man every day. Sometimes it’s his secret love for salty licorice or his collection of fluffy socks (even though he claims they’re all for DUM-E), sometimes it’s that he’s an absolute little shit.
Like now.
”Two pumps pumpkin spice macchiato frappuccino venti with organic soy milk,” Bucky rattles on to the bored-looking barista and next to Steve, Tony snickers.
”I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t serve that combination,” the barista replies.
”Why not?” Bucky asks.
”Because it’s not on our menu.”
”I was told—” Bucky stops and slowly turns around with narrowed eyes. ”You!”
Tony bursts into laughter. ”I was sure you weren’t going for it,” he wheezes.
”You told me to!” Bucky snarls.
Tony snorts. ”You should know better by now!”
Steve rolls his eyes and sidesteps them, ignoring their bickering. ”I’m really sorry about them,” he says with a sheepish smile. ”I’ll have two regular coffees and one of your biggest. Black, thank you. Oh, do you have any blueberry muffins left?”
The barista points at the tray heaped with said muffins.
”Excellent. I’ll take all of them.”
”Right,” the barista says slowly.
Steve leaves him a big tip before dragging Tony and Bucky out. ”Seriously, guys! I can’t take you anywhere.”
”Nonsense! You love us,” Tony scoffs.
”So help me, I do,” Steve sighs and shakes his head, missing Tony’s wide-eyed look. ”Now, behave or I’ll eat all the muffins myself.”
(It takes Tony two months to say it back and even then it’s in the middle of the night when they’re almost asleep. Tony whispers the words in his skin, so softly he almost doesn’t catch them. But he does. Oh, he does.)
+1 Perfect
”No, not that one. The other—no, the red one. Red. Red. Don’t you have any sense of color, DUM-E? I’m pretty sure I programmed you better than this. Have you been messing around with your brothers again? I swear to Thor’s cousins that…”
Steve cocks his head and watches Tony working on something big, shiny, and potentially explosive. He has his sketchbook with him but like so many times before, the scene in front of him is so much more compelling than anything he can put on paper himself. Tony keeps on a running commentary and his hands are in constant motion, occasionally interrupted by DUM-E or JARVIS.
Steve grins and takes a sip from his cup. The liquid is slightly thicker than coffee probably should be and it has a hint of something metallic underneath (most likely motor oil), but he doesn’t care.
It’s perfect.