A/N: The title comes a line of the Rent song, 'Light My Candle' and then I proceeded to write this fic in my head while I was in the shower.
"Back again!" Steve exclaims.
Hot Tony grins and dips his head in a nod of acknowledgement as well as he is able. What with his hands cuffed behind his back. "Couldn't keep away, Hot Stuff."
Steve opens his mouth, but Hot Tony barrels right over him.
"In fact, you guys should probably give me my own private cell with a plaque and everything. Hey. I'll even buy the plaque."
Steve shakes his head. Ever since he transferred to the New York 34th precinct, there hasn't been a week that he hasn't seen Hot Tony.
"Gonna take me to processing, Steve?" Tony grins, settling a hip on his desk as Sasha rolls her eyes and leaves him there.
"I don't even need to. I haven't had time to put your file away from the last time you were in!" Steve waves the thing towards Tony. "Honestly..." Tony was in and out so often that he figured Tony getting arrested was like the New York Police saying 'hello.' For all the good it did them. Tony never reallydoes anything wrong. And it isn't like they could keep him. He has too much money for that. Unfortunately. He posts bail like it's pocket change. He always spends the night though. Looking him over, Steve sighs. His hair sticks up like he'd licked a finger and stuck it in an electrical outlet and then grinned and did it again. And his once probably really nice suit is rumpled—okay, maybe a little charmingly, lips tilted up like he'd rather be nowhere else.
"Sasha! What is it this time!" He leans back in his chair to call to the other officer.
Sasha shakes her head and sets her coffee down, ambling over. "He didn't pay the meter and then got fresh."
"Hey now!" Tony protests, spine straightening. "I bought street rights! I own the building, and now I own the street in front of it. I can park my car there whenever I want without paying the meter. And well..." He shrugs the rest of it off, pretending to be fascinated with something elsewhere.
"Got fresh?" Steve prompted.
"We're still checking on the street thing, by the way," Sasha says with a fond glare at Tony. "And he got fresh by which I mean the man threw a fit and mooned two officers."
Steve's eyes go wide and he looks at Hot Tony, vaguely wishing he'd been there, but mostly scandalised. "You didn't!"
"I told them to kiss my ass. And then presented it," Tony shrugs and then grins brightly. "And then Sasha and I got coffee."
Steve sighs heavily as Sasha heads back to said coffee and then looks over at Hot Tony. "Mooning? Seriously. How old are you? And what was that about buying street rights?"
"Bought 'em this morning."
Steve stares. "You... did you do this on purpose?"
Tony just grins.
In the next month, Steve sees Tony in for attempted bribery of a meter maid, verbal abuse of a crossing guard, speeding, blatant shoplifting, failure to hold a form of legal ID on his person, jay walking, and playing his music too loud. Each time Hot Tony grins and settles on the edge of his desk with a flirty smile. He even comes with the gift of coffee one time. It was the best damn coffee Steve's ever had in his life. Steve lets Tony hover around his desk to chat because the man seems like he enjoys it. He smiles and laughs at Steve's story about catching the thief with his pants down, literally. The family's little chihuahua hanging on to the pant-leg for dear life.
It's been a full week since he's seen Hot Tony, and, if he admits to himself, he feels a little down for it. The man always cheers him up with a funny story and a compliment. So on his break he stretches up to the ceiling and decides to take himself out for lunch. There's a little bakery around the corner that always has always tempted him with its tasty treats. He pauses in front of the windows, looking at all of the display items, mouth watering just at the thought of biting into one of their cupcakes, scones, cookies, or pastries. He is still deciding whether or not he's going to go in and treat himself when he hears his name being called. Lifting his head, he looks around, sees a man across the street waving wildly. He frowns. The man's smartly dressed, suit probably costing hundreds, hair slicked back, fancy shades perched on his nose. Dodging traffic, the man darts across the street, Steve being able to do nothing more than stare.
"Steve! Heya! How's it going?" The man huffed, smiling.
"I'm sorry. Do I know you?"
The man stares at him, spine straightening. "Are you kidding?" Pushing his shades up into his hair, he stares at Steve.
"Hot Tony!" he blurts and then promptly covers his mouth like that could force the words back inside.
The man, clearly Tony now, blinks and then bursts out laughing. "'Hot Tony?' Steve. Really?"
"I didn't recognise you without the handcuffs," he mumbles, looking down at the pavement, feeling over-heated.
Tony laughs, head tilted back into the sunlight. "Geeze. You're a regular riot. Alright then. Were you going in? Let's go in. I could use some sugar. Haven't had coffee in three hours."
"You need it that badly?" he asks wryly.
"I've been working on a take-over and R&D stuff for my—okay, seriously, Steve. You've had my file in front of you, how many times, and you never thought to look me up? I mean, really? I've seen that Time sitting on the table by the front. My face is plastered all over it. You seriously don't know who I am?"
He hunched a little. "I..."
Tony grinned. "Oh that's great. You're awesome. Hey, Tony Stark. Nice to meetcha."
He's a little slow on the up-take, brow creasing, staring at the offered hand. Then up at Tony's face. He almost misses the hurt look that crosses it as he retracts his hand. "Oh no—wait! No. Sorry. I'm... Sorry. Tony Stark? Like, Stark Industries? And the phones?"
Tony's face lights up. "Yeah! Exactly like that."
Steve gapes. "Shit! No wonder you're always out right away. You could probably just about buy the United States."
Tony laughs again at that. "Uh, not quite. Listen. Let's get sugar and coffee. Sound good? Sounds good to me." He takes Steve's arm and guides him inside, gesturing towards the pastry case, quickly ordering an espresso and a blueberry muffin for himself. "And whatever he wants," he tells the cashier.
"What! No! You don't—"
"My treat," Tony insists with a smooth grin.
He flushes and then allows Tony to steer him towards a table. "Thanks."
"My pleasure! You've gotten me out of a couple of board meetings I really don't want to go to."
His pulse spikes again. "You get arrested to get out of board meetings! Tony!"
"Woah woah. That is definitely slander!" he bursts out, but he's smiling, so he can't really mean it. "So... 'Hot Tony' huh?"
Steve almost snorts his coffee. "God, I am so sorry! I didn't—it's just. I never looked at your file. I mean, not really! You were always so nice! And you winked at me!"
Tony chuckles, but he seems pleased. "So then the flirting was okay? Is this a sign? I think it should be a sign. We can toast. Here." He lifted his coffee mug and lifted Steve's wrist which held Steve's coffee and clinked them together awkwardly. "Here's to handcuffs."
"Tony!" He cries softly, looking around. Not like it matters. They're really the only two in there.
"This is okay, yeah? Because I'd like it to be okay. We could get dinner!" Tony's brows arch up hopefully.
"Well yeah. I mean, unless I'm reading 'Hot Tony' all wrong, and I know that 'hot' is capitalised." He grins, his lips quivering a bit as if prepared to frown or strain upwards to keep the pretense.
"No. No you're not," he replies softly, face heating again. "Misreading...that is..."
"Great!" Tony straightens and flicks his fingers through his hair, shifting the shades to hang from his loose tie. "That's great. You got a phone?"
Tony extends an arm across the table, palm up, fingers waggling. "Gimme your phone."
Automatically, he drops his phone into Tony's waiting hand, frowning a bit. "What are you..."
"I'm putting my number in it, duh. Alright. Here. Text me so I've got yours." Tony pulls out a fancy contraption that makes Steve think 'ooh shiny!' and looks up at Steve expectantly.
"Oh. Um." He slowly types in 'hi' and presses send.
Tony snorts when he sees it but grins. "Great. Well I do actually have a meeting to get to, but text me your address and I'll swing by 'round seven and we'll go to dinner. French? You like French?"
"Um. I've never had French? But I'd love to try it," he says hopefully, feeling a little like he'd been swept up in a tornado that wasn't quite done with him.
Rising, Tony slips the phone back into his pocket and strides towards the door. "Great! See you later tonight!"
He waves, watching Tony go until his phone buzzes in his pocket. Tony. Seeya later, hot stuff. I've got your number. Dress nice. He grins and can't wait.