Okay, here's chapter two! I wanna say a big thanks to SecretReader for favoriting and commenting on this story! Thank you so much! :D Also, if it is not clear, this is an AU story, so although Steve and Tony have the same characters from the movies, their backgrounds are different. I'll be going into their backgrounds through out the story so everything is filled in hopefully. Okay, so quick note about the chappie before you read it, it is a kind of heavy filler chapter as I need it to show bonding between Steve and Tony and to give some of that background info that I mentioned earlier. I hope you like it and please R&R!

~Keshi3

Chapter 2:

"I'm not so sure about this..." Steve awkwardly fumbled to right the stack of printed papers in his arms.

"Trust me, you'll do fine," Pepper smiled and laid, yet another, document on top of Steve's bundled tower, "Everyone is decent here and the workload isn't too bad. The only one you have to worry about is-"

"Pepper! Where's my favorite wrench? I swear if you let Dummy touch it...!" His tie and jacket thrown elsewhere, Tony rolled up his sleeves and began tinkering with a new robot model, grease already smeared on one elbow and a cheekbone.

It has been two weeks and six "chats" since Steve met Tony, and three awkward interviews since Steve got the job at Stark Industries. The pay is quite nice, much better than the old coffee shop, and looked good on his resume for future references. And maybe working with Tony Stark was a perk by itself, but, Steve always reminds himself, he's here to work professionally. He was not here to flirt with Tony Stark.

Of course not.

Pepper sighed and rubbed her temple, "You had it last, Tony!" She turned back to Steve who had, finally, managed a hold on the Leaning Tower of Paperwork, "Just make him sign needed documents, make sure he eats, and above all, monitor his alcohol intake. Do that and everything will be fine."

Steve blinked, "I... thought this was a desk job... This sounds more like babysitting."

"Exactly," Pepper smiled and gave him a strong pat on the shoulder before quickly walking into the elevator.

"Wait, but-!" Sighing, Steve watched her high heels disappear behind closed lift doors. "Great," he mumbled under his breath.

"Um, Mr. Stark," Steve hesitantly knocked his knuckles against the frame of the shops metal door, "I have some papers you need to sign."

"Steve, it's Tony, we've been over this and bring them here." It doesn't take long to notice the signs and quirks people have to alert others that they are agitated and it took Steve even less to notice Tony's. When frustrated Tony tends to crack less jokes and the ones he does say tend to be ruder than his typical wise remarks. Also, he has a tendency to squint more and a greater appreciation for scotch.
Speaking of scotch, there was a crystal glass filled with the amber liquid in his right hand. The bottle was not far away and Steve bit back a sigh. He was never fond of drinking; watching his college buddies inhale different liquors until they were sick dimmed the appeal of alcohol to him. Instead, he chose to run when he was upset.

He wished Tony did that also.

Grabbing the glass out of his hand, Steve replaced the crystal with a pen instead and set the stack of papers in front of Tony on the workshop table. Next he took the bottle of scotch and walked over to the cupboard, storing it on the top shelf. "Please sign these; Pepper needs them for the next board meeting."

"I'll sign them, but really, I am a grown ass man." Tony huffed and walked over to the cupboard, reaching up he grabbed the half-empty bottle and brought it back over to the table.

"A grown man that needs to work, not drink." Steve snatched the bottle yet again out of Tony's hand and, before he could protest, stuck it on top of the cabinets, too high up for Tony to reach.

"Cocky because you're taller, huh? Fine, I'll sign the stupid paper work." Wincing one last time at how Tony loudly threw his wrench across the table, Steve smiled quietly at the man's humorous stubbornness. He had a tendency to raise hell when it came to any aspect of his life, but even so he made sure his company was running smoothly and always accomplished what needed to be done.

"What are you worrying about?"
Steve knew that Tony was a very independent person, no matter what others have said, but he also noticed that Tony had a hurt side that he expressed in childish mannerism.

"Nothing's wrong, Cap."

Rolling his eyes, Steve ignored his nickname, "Yes, there is and maybe talking about it will make you feel better."

Tony dubbed him "Cap" or "Cap America" after Steve showed up wearing a red, white and blue novelty baseball cap to one of their "chats" a week ago. He honestly thought nothing of wearing the accessory as it was a gift from a friend, but now, his face fills with chagrin every time he sees it due to Tony's affectionate calling.

Tony sighed, "You get sappier by the day, Steve." Running a hand through his messy spiked hair, Tony exhaled slowly, "Today's the anniversary of my father's death."

If he was entirely honest, Steve never thought Tony would actually tell him what was wrong. Now that he has, he is at a lost for words. He knows Tony has been through a lot, certain things just hinted to that. You just know by looking at someone that they've had a rough experience. For Steve, it was when Tony first took off his glasses. Even though Tony has creases from laughter, he also has creases from exhaustion and bags underneath his eyes. And he began to wonder which creases were real in their existence.
His eyes were another story; they shone constantly but sometimes it felt fake, as if that shine was there to cover up a hidden sadness. A deep darkness that only surfaced when Tony was alone. Or drinking. Or maybe both.

"My father served in the army... died with a grenade attack."
Steve was past the point of crying or even feeling depressed with the thought of his father's passing. Now, he felt a sense of nostalgia and longing to when he was younger and spent time with his dad, before he was deployed. Steve decided a long time ago to change the pit in his stomach into a sense of pride in his chest. Although his father died, he died a hero.

Tony met Steve's eyes and nodded his head in acknowledgment, "You should be proud."

"I am," Steve smiled and Tony matched it.

"My father was murdered; angry technician that he fired blew a fuse," the young billionaire laughed bitterly. "Bastard should have seen it coming."

That was the sentence that made everything clear to Steve. Tony was angry at himself, for what, Steve wasn't sure, but it was obvious. "That's not your fault."

Tony looked a little shocked, "I know, but… We weren't on good terms when it happened: I was a stupid seventeen year old that only cared about himself and he had the same problem along with being a drunk." He laughed sarcastically, "Like father like son, huh?" Raising the water-downed glass, ice now long melted, he set the glass back down roughly, some of the contents spilling over the edge and onto the table. Tony cursed lowly in the back of his throat.

"If you are angry about fighting with him before, you shouldn't be; all teenagers have fights with their parents, even if you and your father's may have been more...dysfunctional," Tony snorted in reply, "Or if you are angry about being like him, then change it."

"How?" Eyebrows knitted together, he surveyed his leather shoes, glaring at the smudge of oil on one.

"First," Steve walked over to a chemical wash sink in the corner of the room and dumped out the old glass of scotch, "You can start by drinking less. And how about you take a break for now? It's already past seven o'clock, so you should probably eat something. Have you eaten today?"

"I think I had a bowl of glazed peanuts at the bar around… eleven, maybe?" Messing with the scruff on the back of his neck in thought, Tony walked over to the chemical wash and began scrubbing the oil off of his forearms.

Steve sighed exasperatedly, "Pepper warned me about that. Do you want me to order you something or are you going out? Chinese?"

Tony grinned, "I think I want to go out, but I can't drive after the drinks I had," reaching up, he wrapped his now clean arm around Steve's neck, "Steve Rogers, would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner?"

Awkwardly, Steve bent down under Tony's arm, but smiled. "I'll drive."