"I still can't believe he left his number." Pepper sighed and looked meaningfully at her boss. Tony didn't respond, just shrugged.

They walked unhurriedly into the main NYPD building, quite as if they were thus announcing to the whole world their victory over a brazen thief who foully used his beauty and dressed up children to rob the greatest inventor in the history of mankind. And then he left his phone number to... Damn it, actually, why? He now had in his hands a thick bundle of unused projects, all he had to do was start auctioning them off on the black market, and he'd be set for life. Keeping in touch with Tony was absolutely unnecessary. Worse: it was stupid and dangerous.

"Mr. Stark," a man in a dark suit and tinted glasses greeted him dryly. Tony got the impression that it was a 'dislike at first sight' kind of situation at both ends, which didn't make much sense, because he hadn't even opened his mount to speak yet.

"Sir...?"

"Coulson. Agent Coulson."

They shook hands and it was only then that Tony noticed the tiny FBI logo on the man's perfectly tailored yet very officially unfashionable suit. Fantastic, that's exactly what they were missing. Fucking FBI. But honestly, nothing was surprising about it, after all, the stolen designs also involved weapons. Actually, mostly weapons. Stark forced a smile.

"I didn't expect that I would be able to cause so much commotion with this one innocent number," he joked, hoping to ease the tension.

Well, it didn't work.

The agent squinted his eyes and would probably have gone red with rage, but clearly, his dignity did not allow him to do so. Until now, it had only seemed to Tony that some icy resentment was emanating from Coulson. Now he was certain. He was just about to immediately change the subject and introduce Pepper when from behind the irritated agent leaned out a familiar figure.

"Tony!"

"Rhodey!"

Tony beamed at the sight of his friend. He smoothly dodged the overly serious agents, as well as the almost comically concerned policemen, and threw himself into Lieutenant Rhodes' arms. It was only when he felt a soothing pat on the back that he realized that the whole thing had really hit him. Pretending that everything was fine was Tony's favorite method for dealing with stress. As a result, he very often couldn't even tell whether he was concerned about something or not.

"Calm down, Tones, it's going to be okay," whispered Rhodey right into his ear. "Everything will be taken care of, I promise."

This "will be taken care of" had a sobering effect on Stark. He pushed his friend back as far as his outstretched arms let him and cursed. Rhodes was in uniform, and several more military officers were lurking in the depths of the corridor. That meant not only the police but also the FBI and the military were involved. Wonderful. Simply wonderful. He must have made a very telling face, because Rhodey began to explain himself, quite as if any of what was going on was his fault.

"Tony, you have to understand that we could not ignore it. You know very well what was in that safe."

"Is this some kind of mob thing?"

"What do you mean?" Rhodey shook his head, clearly confused.

"This guy..." 'Steve Rogers' would not pass through Stark's throat, and if it did, it would have sounded idiotically sweet and affectionate. He wasn't going to let that happen. "You called me because the police managed to track him down and arrest him. Do you know him? Has he had a criminal record? Drugs? Arms trafficking? Anything at all?"

Rhodes scratched his head, heavily abashed by this hail of questions. It did not escape Tony's attention that Rhodey glanced over his shoulder - straight at Coulson.

"I'm not sure if—"

"He's famous for his traffic violations," cut him off the red-haired FBI agent, who showed up seemingly out of nowhere and approached them with a mug full of hot chocolate. Her pretty face was adorned with a smile that, more than polite, seemed rather dangerous. She looked Tony up and down with a curious expression. "If he ever invites you to go for a motorcycle ride together, do not, under any circumstances, accept it."

"Do you suspect that he would do such a thing?" snorted Stark, involuntarily picturing Rogers leaning carelessly against a big black Harley. He was wearing that ridiculous navy blue superhero uniform and smiling in a way that- No, no, enough of that!

"Who knows?" mused the agent in such a tone, as if she easily managed to see through Tony's thoughts. "Now follow me, Mr. Stark. The interrogation is about to begin. It would be better if you were present."

The woman's smile did not ease him one bit. It was as if she was playing some kind of game. And only she knew the rules. Tony squirmed discreetly, causing a quiet laugh from Rhodey, who apparently also did not feel safe in the presence of this agent. Pepper rolled her eyes but also smiled. The three of them followed the redhead until they reached a space separated from the interrogation room by a soundproof onesided mirror.

It began to get crowded because the police, military, and FBI decided that they had to participate personally in this interrogation, and as if that wasn't enough, everyone glared at each other without an ounce of trust. Further proof that this was just some idiotic dick-measuring contest. However, Tony was too distracted to focus on his surroundings. He was completely consumed by what was happening behind the mirror.

Heck, Rogers really was as perfect as he remembered.

Casual lovers Tony divided into two groups. The first included those he wanted to forget as quickly as possible. He succeeded in doing so without much trouble; usually the same night everything but his orgasm was erased from Tony's memories. The second group consisted of those whom Tony could not forget. On the contrary, he would recall them often and idealize them to such an extent that at times it resembled self-torture.

The very moment Steve bid him farewell with a few tender kisses and quietly slipped out of the bedroom, Tony put him in the second category. Probably contributing to this was the idiotic Halloween costume and the equally absurd foreplay, during which they played hero and villain. Getting into the roles worked out so well that they didn't stop until the very end. Even in their state of supreme elation, they couldn't give up quoting kitschy lines from movies and comic books about masked heroes.

It was as if they were watching and reading the exact same shit. There wasn't a quote that Steve didn't recognize and respond to with an appropriate answer. Until now Rhodey was one of the few people that knew about Tony's fondness for stories about hot guys in spandex. Probably that's why he was so quick to let himself be charmed by Rogers. He not only shared common passions with Stark but also proved to be an exceptionally tender lover.

Not to mention that he was a hot guy himself.

It was through this strange excess of superlatives, combined still with the burglary, that Tony concluded that Steve was far too perfect to actually exist. It would make sense if he was someone specifically prepared to seduce Stark and weaken his vigilance. Then this unexpected connection would have a logical explanation. Not very pleasant, true, but much more sensible than any bullshit about love at first sight.

And now Tony could admire him once again. He instantly absolved himself of the sin of stupidity. Steve was exactly as gorgeous as he remembered him. Maybe even more so, because instead of a costume he was wearing black suit pants and a white long-sleeved shirt that in some places could barely contain his muscles. His light hair was pulled back, and his blue eyes followed closely the actions of the investigator sitting across from him, who was eagerly reading the data from his ID card. It was hard to say what he thought because almost half of his face was covered by sunglasses.

"Go ahead, Detective Summers," said a senior police officer over the speaker. His face for a change was very easy to read. His smile resembled a shark's grin, and it seemed that if he could, he would most likely start to vibrate with anticipation. And that was solely because the situation was getting tense. A shiver ran down Tony's spine.

"Your name is Steven Grant Rogers, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you're from Brooklyn."

"Yes."

"If so, you have traveled quite far on the October thirty-first."

The corners of Steve's lips twitched slightly as if he was trying to hold back a fit of laughter.

"And it did me no good, you have to admit that, sir."

Summers snorted with a crooked smile. Was this how an interrogation was supposed to look like? Tony heard someone mumbling behind his back. It seems he wasn't the only one surprised by the detective's casual approach. Even Pepper shook her head in disbelief, although she usually preferred not to reveal her thoughts to others. Well, unless it was about scolding Tony, in which case nothing was going to hold her down.

"So you are not denying your visit to the home of Anthony E. Stark at—"

"No, I am not denying it. Why would I do that?"

"If everyone had this attitude, my job would be much easier. Do you remember what time you entered his house?"

"It was seventeen past ten in the evening."

"Quite late for trick-or-treating with a bunch of kids."

"This was supposed to be the last house."

"But you stayed there longer."

"Mr. Stark invited us inside and promised that his bodyguard would help me drive the children home."

"At what time did you leave?"

"At eleven fifty-three."

"And what have you been doing all this time?"

"The children watched 'Star Trek' with Mr. Hogan."

"And you, sir?"

"Tasha, a five-dollar bet that he wouldn't dare to say 'sex'," whispered a man somewhere behind Tony's back.

"Oh, shut up, Clint." The annoyed and at the same time amused voice belonged without a shadow of a doubt to the red-haired agent. "You are needlessly stressing Coulson."

"Come on, I'm not the one who fucked—"

"Clint!"

"I had sex with Mr. Stark." Steve mouthed this statement with obvious embarrassment, blushing like a little boy who had been forced to talk publicly about his first kiss. At the same time, he was so adorable that Tony would have been most happy to take a picture of him. It's just a shame that the whole mood was spoiled by the reprehensible behavior of the two agents.

"My five bucks, Clint."

"I thought you didn't bet!"

"I haven't said that I'm not betting."

"You knew he would say that, right?"

"How would I know? Besides, you should shut up. It's going to get interesting."

"Could you, um, describe your stay at Mr. Stark's house? Were you in any room other than the...?"

"A bedroom and a living room? No, I wasn't. Although, in fact, I entered the bathroom. Should I describe that as well?"

"No, there is no need." Summers lifted his glasses and wiped his face with his hand, probably wanting to at least partially get rid of embarrassment. "Sorry, the situation is quite awkward. Due to a system malfunction, we have no camera footage from the house and—"

"A system malfunction, you say."