Dragon's Cave Tavern — Opening Night
The Dragon's Cave Tavern opened its doors one week before Tony Stark's scheduled trip to Afghanistan.The building stood proud on the corner of 11th Avenue, a perfect fusion of fantasy and modern design — carved wooden beams with sleek glass insets, glowing runes flowing like quiet veins of gold across the walls.The sign above shimmered faintly under the soft blue flames of enchanted lanterns:
Caverna Draconis Tavern"Dimensional Tavern" — inscribed below in ancient runes that glowed faintly like breathing light.
Inside, the tavern pulsed with warmth. Soft, magical flames flickered in bronze braziers, giving off a subtle warmth charm, and the air smelled faintly of spices and oak. The runic inscriptions along the ceiling thrummed faintly with comfort magic — runes from the Ancient Runes texts Alan had memorized from years 3 through 7 of Hogwarts.
Alan, dressed in a dark vest and rolled-up sleeves, stood behind the polished counter with John Wick — his bartender, confidant, and quiet guardian.John's wife, Helen, smiled warmly from a nearby table, a bouquet of lilies resting beside her — her flower shop just down the street had sent most of the décor tonight.And perched lazily on Alan's shoulder, Nyx — his black cat with silver eyes — flicked her tail, glowing faintly under the lantern light.
The first to arrive was Matt Murdock, cane tapping lightly against the wooden floor, accompanied by Foggy Nelson and Karen Page."Nice place, Alan," Foggy said, taking in the carved dragon emblems along the beams. "Looks like a fantasy bar theme park got class."Matt smiled faintly. "No… it feels alive. Like it's listening."Alan grinned. "That's just the runes making sure no one spills a drink twice."
Next came Peter Parker, barely 7, excitedly dragging Ned Leeds behind him."Hello! I am Peter Parker, nephew of Aunt May" Peter said, eyes wide."Hey, kid," Alan said, handing him a small mug of butterbeer-like soda. "Non-alcoholic, promise."Peter laughed, "This is awesome!"May smiled from behind him. "It's beautiful, Alan. Thank you for inviting the kids."
The gym coach, Marcus, arrived next — a broad-shouldered veteran who'd been training Alan for months.He brought with him a few retired soldiers, gruff but friendly, who immediately gravitated toward the bar."Best damn ale I've had since deployment," one of them said, raising a glass to John."Magic brews," John said casually, polishing a glass with that deadpan calm that made everyone laugh.
As the night went on, laughter filled the room.Neighbors wandered in — curious faces drawn by the smell of roasted meat and enchanted honey ale.Matt's group stayed late, Foggy talking loudly about law and whiskey, while John handled the drinks with expert precision.Helen smiled from behind the counter, occasionally refilling glasses, the gentle hum of her happiness radiating across the room.
When the crowd thinned, Alan gathered his staff for a quiet toast.
"To new beginnings," he said, raising a glass. "And to the people who make them worth it."They clinked glasses — May, John, Helen, the soldiers, even Nyx meowing in approval.
Alan added, "You all have personal rooms upstairs. Private, soundproof, and enchanted for comfort. This isn't just where we work — it's home."The group exchanged looks of quiet gratitude. Even John, ever composed, gave a rare smile.
That night, Alan officially moved in.His room sat at the very top floor — under the tavern's steep triangular roof, transformed into a fantasy-styled loft.The ceiling arched high, runes etched into the beams, with a massive mirror shaped like the Deathly Hallows symbol — but in the center, a coiled dragon sigil gleamed faintly in molten gold.Through it, Alan could see the city skyline, stars reflecting like silver scales on the Hudson.
The tavern became a local gem almost overnight.Retired soldiers came for breakfast, workers from the neighborhood stopped by for lunch, and at night, laughter and music filled the air.Even a few of John Wick's old acquaintances — men too sharp-eyed to be civilians — visited quietly, keeping to themselves but always respectful.
Happy Hogan recommended by his boxer friend visited the day after opening and become friends with Alan and all. He came in again the next day wearing his usual suit and sheepish grin."Hey, uh, Pepper, Tony's Personal Secretary sent me to grab lunch. Tony's been locked in the lab again."Alan smiled. "Give him this — house special. Maybe it'll remind him food exists."Happy laughed. "If he asks for the recipe, I'll tell him it's classified."
It was late evening when a sleek black Audi pulled up in front of the tavern. Alan was behind the counter, cleaning glasses while John chatted idly with a few retired soldiers. The door opened, and in walked none other than Tony Stark, dark circles under his eyes, his posture slightly slouched — the fatigue of genius and pressure visible in every motion.
"Smells good in here," Tony muttered, scanning the warm interior before approaching the counter. "You the owner?"
Alan nodded, smiling. "Yeah. Alan. You look like a man who's been running on coffee and bad decisions."
Tony let out a small chuckle. "Guilty. I was nearby, my assistant said this place had the best steak in the district."
Alan raised a brow. "That we do — though if you're looking to keep your genius brain running, you might want something that doesn't destroy your kidneys."
Tony blinked. "My kidneys?"
Alan leaned slightly forward, his tone casual but sharp. "You look pale, a little exhausted. Late nights, high stress, probably skipping meals. Your body's overloaded — bet you've been relying on arc reactor fumes and whiskey."
Tony laughed out loud this time. "You a doctor too?"
"No," Alan said with a grin. "Just someone who studies people — and cooks good food."
He returned to the kitchen, and soon the tavern filled with the aroma of grilled salmon seasoned with herbs, a small bowl of steamed vegetables, and ginseng-infused soup. Alan placed it in front of him, explaining:
"Salmon for omega balance, ginseng to help the kidney meridian, and a broth that'll recharge your system. Eat that before you collapse."
Tony looked skeptical but curious. One bite later, his expression changed — the layers of flavor and warmth hitting him deeper than he expected.
"This is…" he paused, then smiled faintly. "Damn good. Feels like my insides are rebooting."
Alan chuckled. "That's the idea."
They talked a little while Tony ate — about business, engineering, and Alan's place. Tony was impressed by the quiet, almost magical atmosphere of the tavern. Before leaving, he leaned on the counter and said,
"You've got talent, Alan. If you ever want a catering contract for Stark Industries events, call me."
Alan only smiled. "Just come back for another meal instead — food heals better than contracts."
Tony smirked. "Fair enough."
And with that, their friendship began — a meeting born not in the boardroom, but over a bowl of soup made to heal the body and calm the mind.
Later that week, when Tony came back for a late-night snack before his Afghanistan trip, it would naturally connect from here — Alan remembering how worn-out Tony had looked, and Tony remembering how that first meal had made him feel human again.
It was around 5:30 a.m.
Knock, Knock... Knock.
"Happy, you sure it's okay to wake people this early?" said a man in fatigues, his voice tired but amused.
"They live upstairs, yeah — but Alan told me, 'Just knock the Dragon Head, and I'll know,'" Happy replied, tapping the ornate dragon carving beside the tavern door.
Moments later, the sound of locks unlatched. Alan opened the door, hair tousled, eyes half-open — until he froze, blinking away sleep. In front of him stood Tony Stark, sunglasses already on despite the dawn light, and Colonel James Rhodes, looking far too awake for someone running on military time.
"Breakfast," Tony said simply, stepping inside. "The Colonel here claims soldiers eat like kings, but all I've seen are MREs and regret."
Alan snorted. "Then you've come to the right place."
Within minutes, the tavern lights warmed the quiet morning. Jazz hummed low through the speakers as Alan cooked — thick-cut steak sandwiches, runny yolk eggs on toasted rye, and a pot of fresh black coffee that filled the air with its rich scent.
Rhodes leaned back, exhaling. "Man, this is better than anything we get on base."
Tony smirked. "Told you. Guy's a magician with a spatula."
Alan slid Tony's plate in front of him. "Not a magician — just someone who respects a good meal before a long journey."
Tony looked up, pausing mid-bite. "You make it sound like I'm marching to my doom."
Alan gave a half-smile, wiping the counter. "Just intuition. Besides, it's Afghanistan, right? Be careful."
Tony shrugged, a flicker of unease behind the humor. "Hey, I'm just doing a weapons demo. Rhodes'll make sure I don't blow myself up."
Rhodes chuckled. "I'll do my best."
When they finished, Alan pushed Tony a small metal charm — shaped like a dragon's scale, in front of him faintly shimmering in the morning light.
"Something for luck," Alan said. "And to remind you — good food keeps you alive longer than armor."
Tony laughed softly, pocketing it. "I'll hold you to that. Save my seat for when I get back."
"Three months, right?" Alan asked quietly.
"Three Hours Maximum," Tony said, confidence in his grin, exhaustion hidden beneath it.
As they left, the sun had just begun to rise over the city. The engine's growl faded into the dawn, leaving behind only the scent of steak, coffee, and the faint metallic tang of destiny.
Nyx meowed softly from Alan's shoulder.Red Queen's voice came through, calm but edged."Tracking live feeds. Stark Industries' Gulfstream has departed. Estimated arrival in Afghanistan: six hours."
Alan exhaled slowly. "And now… it begins."
"Also," Red Queen added, "your investment portfolio just crossed 2.1 million USD. Stark Industries' stock fluctuates slightly — you want me to start buying when the media reports him missing?"Alan's molten eyes glimmered faintly."Yeah," he said softly. "Buy in low. We'll save the hero… but we'll build something bigger, too."
Outside, the city slept — unaware that fate had just started to turn its gears.And above the glowing tavern sign, the dragon emblem shimmered faintly… as if sensing the storm to come.