(FIC) You Were Made For Me Ch.VI

[glasgowsmiles.livejournal.com]

Title: You Were Made For Me Ch.VI
Author: GlasgowSmiles
Rating: PG-13
Warning/Spoilers: Character deaths (in alternate universe). Alternate universes.
Pairing: Steve/Tony and pre-Steve/Tony
Word Count: 1,587
A/N: I enjoy alternate universes, and seeing them meet. Also, I tend to keep my chapters short, and I try to post them regularly as I can, so if you're a fan of bite-sized bits of fic, read on, and if you prefer getting the whole story at once, then wait until it's finished and I'll have links to previous chapters.
Summary: A warning arrives of a potential threat from an alternate universe, and Tony Stark reaches new levels in self-loathing.

Intro here:  http://community.livejournal.com/cap_ironman/502031.html
And Chapter One: http://community.livejournal.com/cap_ironman/502581.html
And Chapter Two: http://community.livejournal.com/cap_ironman/503530.html
And Chapter Three: http://community.livejournal.com/cap_ironman/504764.html
And Chapter Four: http://community.livejournal.com/cap_ironman/505481.html
And Chapter Five: http://community.livejournal.com/cap_ironman/506078.html

 

“I didn’t know we were going to lunch...” Steve looked at the restaurant’s façade with apprehension. “Should I have dressed differently?”

Tony hid a chuckle. “You already dressed up for the gallery—which wasn’t actually necessary, I think it’s all twenty-three year old hipsters anyway, not too many suits. Yeah, our appointment at the gallery got pushed back to two o’clock. I already took the time off my schedule, so I figured we might as well grab lunch in the neighborhood. Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

Tony’s stomach fluttered. He told it not to, but then he caught sight of Steve out of the corner of his eye and it fluttered again. He gave his name to the maitre-d’, as casually as he possibly could, and tried to look like he was well-acquainted with the menu.

“Wow, you just walked in and got a table right away. It looks like a reservation kind of place... I guess the whole billionaire thing—“

“I had a reservation.” Tony said, before mentally kicking himself to death.

“What?”

“I had a reservation. I had Pepper make a reservation. When I found out about the gallery meeting getting pushe—No, I lied.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “What is the matter with me? The meeting didn’t get pushed back, I lied, I’ve been lying about everything, I’m a terrible liar. I had Pepper make a reservation at the restaurant for noon. I had her get us in with the gallery owner at two. And then I was an idiot and I didn’t know how to ask if you wanted to spend time together...”

“Tony...?”

“I am buying a painting, I didn’t lie about that, and I do need your help, because as Pepper would no doubt be quick to inform you, I’m hopeless. I just also... I don’t know, it seems like... It’s just been a long time since I’ve done anything with anyone, anything fun, I mean.”

“Well, you do work a lot.” Steve shrugged. “And after all, we’re all glad you do. None of us could do what we do if you didn’t, right? And hey, you don’t need to make up reasons for us to hang out. We’re friends.”

“... right. Right. We’re friends. And... friends don’t... need excuses. I’m sorry, I haven’t been thinking straight since—I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately. So... Right.”

“Anyway, this place isn’t too fancy, right? Do they do a burger? Because I’m not comfortable with anything that labels itself ‘fusion cuisine’... I don’t know what that means, but it sounds radioactive.”

Tony laughed. “I believe they do an excellent burger.”

 ---/-/---

“I like this one.” Tony pointed.

Steve leaned in and inspected it a moment before paling slightly. “This one? Well—I mean, if you like it, then you like it, but I wouldn’t pay a lot for it, it’s not an original.”

The gallery owner looked mildly shocked. “N-no, no, it isn’t. Honestly I never planned on selling it to anyone, but it came to me with a load of other paintings, from a friend formerly in the business, it was just left lying around his school. Art students sometimes copy paintings as—“

“I know.” Steve smiled tightly. “Practice. See, here,” He pulled Tony over. “The brushwork isn’t as loose as the original. And right here, and there... the color isn’t blended as smoothly.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in serious critic-mode.”

Steve shrugged. “I just think it could have been better, that’s all. But, if you like it, it’s your money.”

Tony turned to the gallery owner. “Do you know when it was painted?”

“Sometime in the thir—“

“Thirty-five.”

“—ties.” She finished, shooting Steve an odd look. “Was the best my colleague could figure, based on the other things he found with it. Young man, you seem to know more about this painting than I do.”

“Oh, uh... Well, thirty-five is just, you know... in the middle of the thirties.” He stammered.

Tony pulled out his checkbook and started writing. “I’ll buy it.”

“I haven’t even quoted you a pri—“

“You’ll find this fair.” He beamed, handing the check over, barely checking his amusement at the way her eyes bulged.

“That’s—that’s way too much!” Steve protested.

“Really?” He smirked.

“It’s a student copy.”

“Mm.” He took the painting down and turned it over, finding the signature on the back of the canvas. “Oh, lookie here. A student copy, by someone incredibly famous. Like I said, a perfectly fair price.”

“Not as an artist,”

“I like it.” Tony said, in a tone which, while pleasant, brooked no argument.

Steve sighed. “You paid way too much for that.”

“Mm. Put this in the car?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Stark.”

“Way too much.” Steve shook his head, following Tony out. “Do you have to look so pleased with yourself?”

“I am pleased with myself. Loose brushwork is overrated, and the colors, blended or not, fit in with my newly-refurbished room.”

“You don’t even know what ‘loose brushwork’ means, you’re just saying that to sound smart. And—You know, you could have gotten something better for a lot less.”

“I like the one I bought.”

They slid into the backseat of the car, Steve letting out another beleaguered sigh.

“Come on, you should be flattered.”

“Well, yeah, I am, a little. Um—but you don’t have to tell everyone it’s mine, right? Honestly, I could do a lot better now, and...”

“Oh, I’m sorry, was that ‘something better for a lot less’ an offer?” Tony laughed.

“Foot the bill for the supplies, and I’ll show you. Where else do you need a painting? Kitchen? Bedroom? Office?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere.” A shrug. “Everywhere? Paint something, I’ll hang it up. If, mind you, it is better than the one I just bought.”

“Well, I have to know where you want it before I start. Otherwise I won’t have any idea what to paint. Or what colors to use. And yes, it will be much better than any student copy I ever did.”

“I’ll get three. You can do one for each. What do you charge for your time?”

“Aw, c’mon, Tony, you’re a friend. I couldn’t—“

“Okay, I could... pay you in nachos. Or donuts. Or cups of coffee.”

“You already pay for all my coffee. But I might not say no to nachos or donuts...”

“Captain Rogers, I believe we have a deal.” Tony extended a hand.

Steve shook it. “Excellent. Ah... I’ll have to see the bedroom before I can paint something that would actually look good hanging in it.”

“Anytime you want.” He grinned, the smooth, wolfish one, before he could stop himself. Embarrassed, he released Steve’s hand quickly. “Well, you know where I am. And you’re always free to just, you know, wander through.”

“Right. I’ll... I’ll get started as soon as you get the canvases, then. It’ll be fun. Nice.”

“Yeah.” Tony considered opening his car door and rolling out into traffic, but decided it would only make things more awkward. And then his eulogy would be all about how he exited a moving vehicle after striking out with Captain America.

 ---/-/---

“How was your date?”

“What the hell are you doing in my chair?”

“Uh, I’m Tony Stark.” The other Tony said, eyebrows lifted just so. “Nobody’s questioned me.”

“PEPPER!”

She came in, smiling brightly. “And how was your date?”

“It wasn’t a date. I bought a lovely painting. It wasn’t a date! We had fun. It wasn’t a date! You can both stop looking at me like that.”

“What did you get?” The other Tony asked, mildly interested.

“How much did you spend?” Pepper sounded as though she had already resigned herself to the worst.

“I sold half my kingdom for a child’s drawing of an elephant. What do you think? It was a painting by someone famous, and I paid a fair price for it.”

“Fine art famous, or hipster famous?”

“Uh... you know what, it’s not important.”

“So, not actually famous.”

“Don’t give me that look, Pepper. Can I just say it’s not important and have you believe me, or will you drag the truth from me with torture until I can’t take any more of it? It was his, okay?”

“Ugh, some slimy gallery owner sold you his own work? Did you even listen to a word Steve said or—“

“No. It was his. Steve’s. It got thrown in with a bunch of art school crap from the thirties.”

The other Tony stopped short, eyes shining. “Seriously?”

“Let me guess, and you threw money at the gallery to get it.” Pepper sighed. “I remember some of your more outrageous stunts at auctions...”

“I cut a very fair check. And that ‘stunt’ at the auction was for a part of history.”

“Right. The history of your epic crush on Captain America.”

“Anyway, he was happy to get it back.”

“You seriously bought anything you suspected he might have handled, didn’t you?”

“No, I bought things I had on absolutely good authority he had owned.”

“Before you even pulled him out of the ice.” The other Tony continued, as though there had been no argument. “Don’t even lie. I did it, too.”

 “You know,” Pepper cut in. “That I am intimately acquainted with all your spendings, and I will know how much you paid for that painting.”

“Worth it.” Tony Stark said in unison.

Pepper sighed and left the office. “You two deserve each other.”

---TBC---