#anotherchance

It was well passed midnight, and you knew you shouldn’t be downing another shot, in the hole in the wall bar that you had grown so accustomed to. Despite your normally rational thinking, there you were, ordering another after tipping your head back and downing another burning shot. Hunched over that smooth oak of the counter, tapping your index finger absentmindedly, your vision not entirely shot just yet.

So when a stranger slid onto the stool next to you--- you cast a simple glance their way, running over the outcome of the interaction in your mind. Your jaw clenched, your fingers curling tightly around the refilled glass in front of you, and you hoped you wouldn’t have to fend off another unwanted encounter.

“I’ll just have a beer,” he spoke, his voice seemed awfully light against the backdrop of a dive bar.

You hesitated on taking the shot, fingers wandering around the edge of the small glass. You kept your eyes focused on the shot glass, tilting it slightly to watch the caramel colored liquid swirl around.

“Drowning your sorrows?” His question reached your ears, and you couldn’t help but offer a half smile at the question.

“Yeah, you could say it’s something like that.”

The bartender slid the beer across the counter towards him and he nodded a simple thank you, taking a quick swig of the liquid. When the bottle tapped the counter top, an almost relieved sigh left his lips.

“Amen to that,” he said, his eyes on the bottle.

Your brows furrowed, and you frowned, caught off guard by the stranger. You had been hit on by many unwanted people in the span of the time you had been drinking. You were more than surprised when he seemed all too genuine in his words.

“Can I ask you a question?” His voice yanked you out of your thoughts, earning your attention.

“Sure, stranger.” You had answered, tilting your head towards the unfamiliar man beside you.

“It’s going to sound stupid.”

Your brain internally chastised itself for allowing yourself to indulge the stranger. You plastered on a polite smile, even though you thought for sure ‘this is where the lame pickup line comes into play’.

“If you could make one person happy in your life, who would it be?”

“My dog.” The answer flew out between your lips before you even had a chance to contemplate an answer, before you could possibly censor yourself.

You turned fully to stare at the stranger, and were met with blue eyes that seemed not only to be amused but oddly curious at your answer. The corners of his mouth turning up into a soft smile. He took another swig of his beer and turned towards you, leaning onto the counter.

You didn’t wait for him to speak, taking a deep breath, you met his eyes. “She’s getting older, even though she still acts like a puppy. I just always wanted to do something for her because she’s been there for me despite the shitty times. So yeah, I’d make her as happy as I could.”

The honest reply seemed to catch the stranger off guard for a moment, his eyes almost searching yours to confirm the answer as true.

You held his gaze, unwavering eyes meeting his bright blues.

“What would you do differently for her?”

He asked after an endless silence, and it was his voice that shook you from your strange trance. You turned away from him, finally deciding to down the shot. It burned like a flame in your throat, but you refused to cough in defeat. After a moment, you sighed, staring at the empty glass.

“I’d take her traveling. Y’know… see the world,” your words almost sounded defeated and sarcastic to your own ears.

You weren’t even entirely sure why you were telling this stranger your deepest wishes.

If there would ever be a question to catch you off guard in the middle of the night, in a seedy little dive bar, it was the one he asked next.

“Ya’ any good at paperwork and keeping track of profit? Being able to organize multiple things, and multitask is a plus.”

The laugh that slipped passed your lips was uncontrollable, the palm of your hand pressing against your cheek as you leaned onto the counter. You tried so desperately to control the amused chuckles that escaped you, but found yourself at a loss.

When you finally found yourself able to control your chuckles, you glanced towards the stranger, and through clenched teeth, attempting to keep from another fit of laughter, you spoke.

“I was a manager for two years, so yeah. I can do that kind of thing.”

It was in the way his eyes lit up, and he leaned all too close, his lips curving into the most charming smile you had ever seen--- that you found yourself with a sudden tightness in your chest.

“You’re late, boss.” The tone of voice had your employer grimacing as he entered his own office. You sat behind your desk, never raising your eyes from the computer screen in front of you, fingers feverishly typing away at the keyboard. “You have a meeting in literally five minutes.”

“Traffic was--”

You cut him off, finally acknowledging him with a simple glance.

“A bitch, right? Same excuse, different day, boss.”

The corners of his mouth fell into a frown, brows almost furrowing at your choice of words. Honestly, he should have been used to it by now. After all, you had been working for him for a grand total of six months, and he knew very well the type of language you tended to use. It wasn’t going to change any time soon either.

Pushing away from your desk, you stood and thrust an envelope into Steve’s hands. “I need you to quickly read over that and sign it. I’ve got to send it out before noon if you want to see any profit from that deal you made last week.”

Steve nodded briefly. “I take it you already read over it and everything is in order.”

“Of course I did.” You almost wanted to scoff at the implication of ignorance on your part, but you held your tongue on the subject.

“That’s all I needed to know,” he replied, flashing a half grin as he opened the envelope and scribbled his signature on the dotted line.

As much as you wanted to reprimand him for not actually listening to you and reading it, you said nothing as he handed the paperwork back to you. It had oddly become the norm for you to make sure everything was correct when it came to paperwork, and for Steve to not even second guess your judgment when it came to business matters.

You followed him into his private office, watching as he tossed his briefcase down on his desk and began to fiddle with his black tie. After a few moments of failed attempts at straightening it, you let out an impatient sigh, and waltzed up to him, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Just let me do it,” you said.

It didn’t even take you thirty seconds to have fix his tie and have him looking presentable for the meeting. After all, you had become a master at making your boss look good enough to pitch a sale. In all honesty, you didn’t think straightening and tightening his tie every day would be part of your job description, but there you were--- doing it time and time again.

“Thank you.” His voice was sincere as a smile tugged at his lips.

You shook your head, an almost amused chuckle passing by your lips. “Meeting’s in five minutes, you’ve got just enough time to chug your coffee and check your emails. Just make it snappy, okay?”

And just like that, you turned on your heel and headed out the door, making a beeline for your desk. Slumping back down into your chair, your eyes fell back on the screen in front of you, scanning the email for any errors.

A minute later, the phone of your desk blinked and you abruptly dropped what you were doing to answer.

“Hello? Steve Roger’s office.”

“Mister Stark and Miss Pots have arrived.” The voice on the other line answered.

“Can you have someone lead them to meeting room one? I’d really appreciate that,” you paused for a moment before adding, “Tell them the boss will be down in a couple of minutes.”

“Absolutely, I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you, Sharon.”

You placed the phone back down, eyes fixated on the screen once more.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Steve reappeared from his office a few minutes later.

“They’re in meeting room one,” you announced, your attention back on the screen.

Steve stopped at the edge of your desk, brows furrowing once more. When he didn’t budge after a few seconds, you forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the computer.

“What’s the matter, boss?”

“You’re not coming with me?” He questioned.

You raised your brows. “Uh no. Why would I?”

“I think you should tag along for this one.”

Your lips fell into a frown, brows now mimicking his confused ones.

“I have a lot of work to comb through---”

“It can wait. I want you to come with me on this one.”

“But---”

He reached down, hand curling around your forearm, and before you knew it, he was pulling you to your feet.

“No buts on this one. Come on.”

You internally groaned as you followed behind Steve. It wasn’t as though speaking with clients, and possible partners, wasn’t in your job description. However, when it came to Stark Industries, you always found yourself dreading the interaction. He always had an air of superiority about him, and the fact that he always cast an almost judgmental look in your direction rubbed you the wrong way.

Lost in your own thoughts, you let out a startled yelp when you ran right into Steve’s back. Instead of chastising you for not paying attention, he offered a damn near apologetic smile before speaking.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll try to get this over as quick and painless as possible.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from huffing.

“You better or you owe me a round of drinks tonight, boss.”

Steve flashed a humorous grin before reaching for the doorknob.