#codeflaws

Coffee.

It was simple enough, they both had it every day so it was only natural that Steve would want to go out to Starbucks on their very first date. It was elementary school and Tony was way too old to do crushes, and dates and boyfriends, but walking into Starbucks, while holding Steve’s hand made him feel like king of the world. Move I’m gay, Tony sang in his head. He wanted to part the patrons waiting in line for coffee like the fucking Red Sea.

Of course, like always, there was the underlying anxiety clawing at the back of his mind. Was he gripping Steve’s hand too tight? Was his palm sweaty? Did Steve notice his palm was sweaty? Fuck to be or not to be, the question was whether or not it would be obvious if he let go of Steve’s hand to wipe his palm down the side of his jeans.

Tony really hoped Professor X or any of the other mind reading Jedis weren’t around to witness his mental freak-out. Was he one of the greatest scientific minds the world had ever seen? Or a prepubescent teen waiting to get a snapchat back from their special friend. Was there really a difference anymore?

Tony shot a glance at Steve.

Shit! Eye contact.

He swung his gaze away a blush rising to his cheeks as he tried to calm his frantically racing heart. He had looked at Steve probably a million times since they had met on the helicarrier but for some reason today, Tony could feel Steve’s beautiful azure gaze burning into his fucking soul. If his soul were to ever exit his body, now would be the perfect time.

Tony peeked at Steve again from under his lashes and double shit, Steve was still looking down at him with the most mischievous smirk curling his plump bottom lip. Oh my god, Tony’s crops were watered, world peace was solved, his hotel was sure as fuck trivagoed. Forget butterflies, there was a whole fucking zoo stampeding in his belly. He quickly looked away, again, focusing on the counter as they both stepped up to order.

“Hi, what can I get you?” The barista, a high school teenager with bleach blonde hair and wide green eyes that looked like she could go by y/n - and why was his last brain cell chanting ‘yunu’ in his head? - scrutinized Tony as she noisily snapped her gum. Her unnervingly long acrylics tapped an uneven beat against the counter and Tony had to physically refuse to play drum circle by following along against the metal casing of his arc reactor.

“Can I get a tall blonde flat white?” Steve requested with a polite smile. And wow, that was a smile that could move mountains. Tony felt a wave of pride swell in his rib cage as he resisted the urge to puff his chest out and posture like a wild buffoon.

The barista turned to Tony and he shot her an award winning, panty incinerating smile. She fixed a bored glare back at him, unmoved by his irresistible charm. The force is strong with this one, he decided as his gaze flicked up to squint at the menu.

Tony always got a Venti Green Eye when Pepper asked him for his Starbucks order way back when she was his PA. No one could ever go wrong with three shots of espresso and Tony was honestly no one but that didn’t stop him from giving negative three fucks about the consequences. He opened his mouth to request his drink and instead, “why are Dasher and Dancer always taking a coffee break?” tumbled past his stunned lips.

Betrayal! Tony’s mind screamed as he pursed his lips to keep more word vomit in. He didn’t know why he even opened his mouth, he always ended up sounding like he swallowed a dictionary and started regurgitating words at random.

The barista froze, her bubblegum popping in her face.

Well, Tony wasn’t entirely sure that wasn’t the name of a drink at Starbucks. He could ask for a gitchie, gitchie, ya-ya, here, Mocha Chocolata, ya-ya and probably still get a drink to wake him up. And now his brain had “voulez vous couchez avec moi,” on repeat, vibrating in his skull. Not the best with Steve standing right there beside him and hello biceps attached to prime American beefcake.

Steve’s shoulders were shaking as he suppressed his laughter, gently squeezing Tony’s hand, “why Tony?”

Well, he let out a resigned sigh as he squared his shoulders, might as well follow through. Maybe the punch line would deck him out of his misery.

“Because they’re Santa’s star bucks.”

Dead silence.

The barista raised a concerned eyebrow at him before shaking her head, an amused smile playing at her lips. And then Steve was giggling, clutching at the counter with his free hand to keep from keeling over as full blown peals of laughter bubbled from his lips.

Fireworks were going off in Tony’s brain, nothing buttered his bread quite like Steve’s beautiful laugh. If they ever made a sitcom about the fuckup that was Tony’s life, he’d want Steve’s beautiful voice to be the laugh track because it made everything okay. Especially Tony’s ridiculous puns.

The barista sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. If she had been wearing a watch, Tony was sure she would have shot it a pointed look. “Are you gonna order?”

“Yes sorry,” Steve struggled to wrestle back his control as he slumped against Tony, their fingers still tightly wound together. “He’ll have a venti red eye.”

“Green eye,” Tony corrected with a grin, “I need that extra shot of espresso.”

“I love you a latte, but I refuse,” Steve pressed a firm kiss to his cheek before looking away, a beautiful blush curling up the back of his neck and painting his cheeks a pretty pink.

The barista looked mortified on their behalf, her cheeks colouring as she rang up Tony’s card before writing their orders on their cups. Tony’s eyes skimmed over the receipt and holy shit, fourteen whole dollars? Victoria’s Secret charges less per cup and Tony can at least get multiple uses out of what he buys.

After that, Tony decided that his expensive coffee machine, Dum-E wearing a green apron, and mispronouncing his own name would suffice for future coffee dates.