BLURB: "What's it like?" she asks. The man picks up his coffee and spares her a glance, brows raised. "What's what like?" "Having the same name as Iron Man." [In which a café owner remembers MCU from her previous life, and has absolutely no idea that superheroes now exist... until she brews a triple espresso for some 'cosplayer' named Tony Stark.) SI/OC insert

ooOoo

PROLOGUE

A few facts about the young owner of Café Renata:

Shannon Gates can't fly. She can't summon thunder or lightning, can't bend metal with her bare hands or with her mind, can't read minds or warp reality. She can't even throw a proper punch with her "noodle arms." She doesn't have any superpower. She doesn't have that many talents either. What she does have, however, is the ungodly ability to brew the perfect cup of coffee. This is irrelevant, of course, and has been for twenty-eight years, until one fateful day, on a particularly mind-breaking holy-shit moment.

In retrospect, it seems quite unrealistic of her to not know the truth for so long. Despite her relatively keen mind and imagination, it just never occurred to her that when kids or teenagers or adults talked about Captain America or Iron Man or Spider Man within earshot, that they weren't talking about fictional characters at all. Because seriously, what sane person would think that?

Café Renata is a small, quaint establishment in Queens. It opens at 8 in the morning and closes at 10 in the evening, and serves a wide variety of beverages ranging from pinky-lifting teas to the darkest roasts of coffee. The food menu rotates and mutates every now and again, depending on what Shannon wants to put in it, but the overall concensus from the customers is that it tastes good. The drinks are the main selling point though, or so Shannon hears. The seats in Café Renata are ergonomic and a bit rustic, classy but not too impersonal, and the floor a soft brown granite. In short, the Renata may be small, but she is the most beautiful of all cafés of her size. Shannon loves it to pieces like a mother would her own child.

7:00 PM. It is a normal evening, as evenings usually are.

Shannon has just brewed a triple espresso -- black and bitter like the devil's heart, she doesn't trust her newer baristas to make it the way this particular costumer wants -- and is about to serve it to a guy in an Iron Man costume. Tony. He's a regular, has been a customer for about five months, and is apparently an avid cosplayer. Nearly half the time she sees him he's in costume, and the other half he's in button-up shirts and near perfect corduroys. Sometimes he wears Iron Man themed muscle shirts that have glowy things at the chest, which is pretty cool. Man must really be a big Iron Man fan, Shannon thinks, which is quite hilarious, as he really closely resembles the character. He's no RDJ, but he has the facial hair and skin tone right. The people in the café quiet down upon seeing him, and some even ask to have pictures with him, something she's used to seeing around cosplayers with amazing costumes. Heck, she'd ask for a selfie with him too, were it not completely unprofessional to ask.

She can snark at and tease her regulars all she wants as they seem to expect it of her anyway, but she draws the line on taking pictures with them.

She swipes his credit card and gives him his drink. Thinks of tossing in a bagel, on the house. Like always, it looks like he sorely needs the caffeine and the sustenance.

"Tough day at work?"

His head snaps up. Wow. Must've been hell at his job, if he's not being his usual flirty self. "What?"

"I don't mean the costume, Tony." She shrugs. "The whole Iron Man thing can't be your actual job. Pay would probably suck, for one. Not that you've ever seemed broke to me."

"I don't know. With how much time it takes to do 'the whole Iron Man thing,' it kind of seems like a job to me too."

She rolls her eyes at that. "Your paying job, Tony. I was talking about the job that actually earns you money. How was it? Torture? Hell on earth?"

"...You have no idea," Tony sighs, then smiles self-deprecatingly. "Is it that obvious?"

Shannon ponders that. "Not really, but I know a stressed person when I see one. Anyway, I'll be tossing in a bagel. ... On the house, Tony. You look like you need it."

"Mother hen."

"Can't be. I'm a virgin."

His face then bursts into a grin. "Is that a challenge I hear?"

She scoffs at that. "As if. I'm not suicidal. I've met your girlfriend, you know."

"Oh?"

"Oh yeah. Fierce redhead, pretty as all hell, big mystery what she sees in you," She snarks, but softens the blow with a teasing smile. "Biggest mystery of the universe, really."

"Not as big a mystery as how you brew this coffee," he mutters, takes a sip of coffee, and sighs almost obscenely. "Any chance you'd work for me? Pay's good, and I'm sure my adorable secretary could use some help. And some of this glorious ambrosia. We could all do with some liquid awesome."

Shannon can't help but roll her eyes at that. "...It's just coffee, Tony. Good coffee, but it can't be that good."

He gasps, grabs his cup closer to his chest and turns to it. "Don't listen to her filth, Coffee dear! You'll always be the best to me!"

...Uh, what.

Well, whatever. Shannon has reached a previously unknown threshold of done when it comes to Tony, and just shrugs. "... Right. Anyway, thanks for the compliment and the job offer and all, but I can't exactly leave the Renata, since, you know, I own it."

"You can own it while working for me, Shannon dear. You just have to use this amazing ability called multitasking. I'm a keen practitioner myself, could give you some tips. For a price, of course," he adds with a waggle of this eyebrows.

"... Ew. You're like, a senior citizen or something."

"Senior citizen?!" Tony very nearly shrieks, looking appropriately scandalized. "I'll have you know that I have just entered my prime!"

"Okay. You sure you can handle doing so much at your age, gramps? The costuming around, and the whatever the hell you have as your day job. Just two tasks, and you already look like crap on a daily basis."

"Oh, ouch!" He makes an exaggerated grabbing motion at his chest, a pout on his face. Well. Looks like he's recovered enough. Maybe she can take the bagel back?

"You're a real riot." She deadpans. "A total comedian."

"A comedian, playboy, billionaire, and philantropist. A young comedian, playboy, billionaire and philantropist. Among many other things. 'Multi-talented' is my middle name." He finishes with a wink. Is this what people call 'role playing'? He was acting remarkably Iron Man -ish. Before Shannon could figure out how to respond, Tony's phone rings. He throws a quick glance at it, before sighing and seeming to sink back into his previous gloomy mood. "I should go. Paperwork to murder, suits to tinker with, multitasking like young men usually do, you know how it is."

... Hold on.

"What's it like?" She suddenly asks. She didn't really want to in the beginning, back when she first saw his real name on the receipt all those months ago. Credit card info doesn't reveal much, but it does show its owner's name.

Anthony Stark

And wasn't that a laugh and a half? She doesn't want to be rude to Tony-the-cosplaying-guy, but it's been bugging her something fierce for so long. Surely she wasn't the only one who finds the coincidence weird/funny?

Tony picks up his coffee and spares her a glance, brows raised. "What's what like?"

She thinks about how to phrase it. "Having the same name as Iron Man."

She waits for him to laugh in good humor. Waits for a story of how having a comic book character's name must have made his life utter hell as a kid. Waits for the anger or annoyance that wouldn't have been out of place in a man who must've heard that question a million times before.

But she definitely does not expect him to give a slow smile, thank her for the coffee, put on his helmet, walk out of the café and FUCKING FLY AWAY HOLY SHIT!

ooOoo