Neighbors & Pets
(^・ω・^ )
“Oró, sé do bheatha abhaile, oró, sé do bheatha abhaile,” Steve breathily sang to himself as he pushed open the back door with his lower back. With some shuffling of the duffle bag and the other items in his hands, he was able to squeeze into the little landing to close the door. Making sure that the door was locked, and spinning so he wouldn’t trip down the steeper set of stairs to his right, Steve clomped up the shorter flight of stairs into the terrifyingly tiny, but beautifully remodeled, kitchen. Ignoring the way his shoulder brushed ever so slightly against the wall to his left when he turned, or the sharp smell of barely dried paint, he was still marveling at the fact that the townhouse was technically his.
That he, Steven G. Rogers, was officially the owner of this house and everything in it, which as of right now included some of his old furniture and ‘donated’ battered pots and pans from his mother, as well as the sad patch of grass in the backyard that would maybe, potentially, have tomatoes in the summer.
It hadn’t exactly been his dream to buy a home in Queens, or to be on the hook for an astronomical 30-year mortgage, but the planets had aligned over the past year. And by aligned, that really meant that the planets had smashed into each other and were then promptly sucked into a black hole. That would be one way to describe all four of Steve’s roommates suddenly deciding to move in with their significant others, and his mother deciding to sell the old house and retire upstate, leaving Steve by himself and on the hook for an apartment rental that was three-times higher than any mortgage payment in the area would be.
It was the right time in Steve’s life (single, healthy, and gainfully employed) to finally buckle down and put that wad of ‘rainy day’ savings to good use.
Of course, the mortgage payments had begun eight months ago while he was still paying for the apartment, and another loan had to be taken out for all the extra work the outdated home needed, but finally, finally, Steve was able to enter the home of his dreams and be a ‘real’ adult.
Steve spun slowly, taking in the house without the company of contractors making noise or Natasha quoting rising interest rates, and felt his heart tighten in happiness. He could see himself becoming very comfortable with this house in the future. The whole lower floor of the home had been changed into a flowing open-concept area (the designer’s words, not Steve’s), so it was only a few steps to leave the tiled kitchen area and enter the dining room that had been turned into an art studio for Steve’s work, due to the perfect lighting from the huge bay windows at the front of the house.
Before he could begin to reexamine the reading nook and bookshelves that had replaced the original living room, or climb the stairs to confirm that it really was his bed in the master bedroom, an angry snort came from the pet carrier in his right hand.
“Oh, oh, baby, I didn’t mean to leave you in there,” he said soothingly, setting the carrier on the ground and kneeling on the hardwood floor to check on the mass of diluted calico fur. “I didn’t forget you, but it’s a new house. It’s very exciting,” Steve said, sitting back on his heels after opening the carrier’s door, “I think you’ll like it. You won’t have to worry about Lucky slobbering you and trying to be friends, or Jane accidentally using your cup for coffee.”
When the cat didn’t emerge, Steve bent over again and poked at the furry backend facing him. “Clo-ud,” he softly sang, turning the name into two syllables like his mother always did, “Wanna see the windows? Big windows for you to look at stuff. You love looking at stuff and being angry at the stuff you look at.” One of the gray ears plastered against the cat’s skull gave a little twitch at Steve’s teasing tone. “I even put your box next to the drafty vestibule door we couldn’t fix. I know you’ll love it if you just come out and see.”
The lump of fur gave a snorty grunt, which delighted Steve, before the cat shifted and settled in for a good, long, sulk. Steve chuckled under his breath as he stood, brushing at his knees absentmindedly as he walked over to the nearby recessed shelf. He knew this would happen. Cloud hated change, any type of change no matter how small, and moving to a new house was a fairly big change even for a person, much less a cat. No wonder she was crabby.
With the television and wifi not hooked up yet, and the cat food packed in a box in the kitchen, Steve had to resort to the last thing he knew that would get Cloud back to semi-tolerating him again: the beat up boombox and stack of cds on the shelf.
“Will Massenet calm you down? A little La Cenerentola? Or do you want to re-listen to Aida?” The silence of the house answered and Steve nodded as he thumbed through the jewel cases. “I’m thinking Rossini,” he muttered, “You’re always happier after Rossini”, he continued while popping open the cd player and placing in the first disc.
The house was immediately filled with light violin playing and woodwinds as the overture began.
Steve grinned and flopped back into the only new piece of furniture in the house, a cushy chair gifted to him by all four of his roommates (Bucky, Clint, Jane and Natasha), and relaxed in the pale winter sun as he stared at the cat carrier. When nothing happened during the first five minutes of orchestration, Steve felt his thoughts begin to wander.
He’d already met a good handful of the people in the neighborhood, ranging from the man who shared the driveway that ran between their homes (Sam Wilson) to the couple down the street with the extremely cute baby (Jessica and Luke). Across the street was the elusive Dr. Erskine who traveled 80% of the year to see relatives in Germany, so Steve even being able to shake his hand in greeting was quite a feat. Next to Erskine was Jess and Carol, who Steve didn’t know were roommates, or dating, or fiancées, depending on which of the two women he was talking to.
In fact, the only neighbor Steve hadn’t met was the one whose house abutted his and shared the wall of the two semi-detached houses.
Carol had laughed when Steve first asked about his ‘wall-neighbor’ a few months ago when she and Jess had taken Steve out for a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ lunch, even though Steve hadn’t officially moved in yet.
“Ah, that’s Tony. He’s mostly in the city with his boyfriend, Ty. You most likely won’t see him, they’re pretty serious.” She had waved her left hand vaguely in Steve’s direction, almost sticking her ring finger up Steve’s nose, “I think they’re tying the knot soon.”
“True.” Jess pulled her mass of dark hair over her shoulder while reaching for her glass of wine, “They got a dog around a year ago. You know that’s true love and definitely the step before moving in and making it official.” She took a sip. “Unlike a cat.”
Steve grinned at the memory, recalling how the conversation had dissolved into an argument between the two. After Carol had finished her squabble with Jess concerning how her cat, Chewy, was the best damn thing in the world, both women had been shocked when Steve had explained that even though he owned a cat, he wasn't really a cat person. The conversation had then dissolved into Steve explaining how he had adopted Cloud simply because of how miserable the cat had looked at the shelter, even though shelter volunteers had explained that she’d been returned twice already.
They were a fun pair and Steve really couldn’t wait for their ‘winter barbeque’ being held the upcoming weekend to chat with them more.
Movement in the corner of his eye made Steve turn to watch a thick, otter-like tail appear outside of the carrier to flick lazily back and forth in time with the music. A moment later and a rotund body shuffled its way backwards from the crate. At the poofed fur, and general disheveled appearance of the cat, Steve laughed, resulting in a pair of ice blue eyes turning to glare at him disdainfully.
“See? I knew you couldn’t stay angry at me with Cinderella playing,” he said, mind taken off the neighbor he would most likely never meet as Cloud began licking furiously at her fur.
(^・ω・^ )
It still hurt. Three months, and it still hurt.
Tony leaned back in his leather desk chair and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.
He’d fallen out of love before, had been in relationships with better people, and yet Tony still couldn’t stop thinking about Tiberius. Wondering what he did wrong, what he else could have changed about himself to keep the other man in his life. Tony felt like he had given everything to him, hollowing out the space behind his ribcage, only to find out the truth: that Ty had been cheating on him for over half of the relationship with a mutual friend.
God, Tony had even bought a gift for Zeke when he’d last seen him last at the Christmas party, unknowing of Ty’s sneaking around or Zeke’s starring role in the sneaking.
His head felt too heavy; full with too many Ty thoughts and not enough Tony thoughts. Tony eyed the folders, documents, and printouts on his desk before shuffling them into one sloppy pile that he could pillow himself on, bracketing his head with his arms to block out the morning sunlight and feelings. It was draining having to monitor his thoughts 24/7 while juggling his CEO and head of R&D duties. He should really think of switching titles with Pepper.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the door of his office opened with a nearly silent snick followed by unhurried footsteps. They paused around halfway to the desk.
“I didn’t realize naps were back in vogue?”
Tony let out a miserable whine and rolled his chair back and forth with his hips as he burrowed his head deeper into his folded arms. “It’s not even noon and my head is killing me.” He grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut in case Pepper turned on the overhead lights.
“Oh, Tony,” Pepper sighed and walked the remainder of the distance, if the thump of folders on his desk was an indicator, and thin, cool, fingers began stroking his hair. “You’ve been having a pretty tough time, haven’t you?”
“Trade. Be CEO, let me be president of the company. You’ll get better benefits.”
“No.”
“Bigger pay raise.”
“Nu-uh.”
“My undying love.”
“I’m sure I have that already,” Pepper hummed and nudged at the crown of Tony’s head until he propped his chin on his arms, and then she spent a moment pushing back his bangs from his forehead to check his temperature. She frowned down at the pained expression of her boss and friend as she rubbed small circles on either side of his temples. “What’s wrong, Tony? You aren’t sick, but it’s only Monday and you have your Thursday afternoon face on.”
Tony scrunched up his face and opened his mouth to respond, something scathing and witty, only to be interrupted by the phone on his desk suddenly ringing. “Oh god, it’s probably Bambi with another meeting. Save me, Pepper,” he groaned, twitching his head away so he could re-bury it in his arms.
“Fine, fine.” Pepper’s one hand played with the short hairs at the nape of Tony’s neck as she reached across the desk to hit the speaker button. “This is Ms. Potts, may I ask who is speaking?”
“Oh, um, this is Stephanie?” Tony cringed at the sound of his dog walker; his day was about to get worse, “I’m at Mr. Stark’s apartment but Octo won’t leave? Is he available to talk?”
Tony sighed and pushed himself upright, leaning across his desk towards the phone cradle. “Hi, Stephanie, it’s Tony. Is he awake?”
“Yes.” Shuffling, jingling, and a soft bark came from the other end. “He was fine on Friday, but he’s just ignoring me today. Didn’t come to the door and he’s just sitting in the living room? It’s been around five minutes and he hasn’t budged, not even when I offered a treat.”
Rubbing his hands against his face for a second, Tony let out a frustrated sigh and dragged them down to stretch his features. Perfect. “It’s fine, Stephanie, you can leave him.” Pepper nodded when Tony looked over, confirming that Tony had at least fifteen minutes to run upstairs to the penthouse. “I’ll come up and check on him in a little bit and take him out later in the day. You can get going.”
“Are you sure? I can-”
“No, it’s fine. Thanks for your help over the past month. I’ll give you a call later. It might make sense that we stop for the week since I’m finally back.”
“Okay, Mr. Stark. Sorry it didn’t work out today. I hope you had fun on your trip?”
“Yeah, it’s good to be back, Stephanie,” Tony laughed wryly, ignoring the question on if it was a fun trip, “I’ll give you a call later in the week if Octo feels up to going out with the group again.”
“No problem. Bye, Mr. Stark! I hope Octo feels better!”
“Yup. Bye.” Tony hung up on his bubbly dog walker and promptly began knocking his head against the desk’s surface. “Why, why, why? I gave him everything he needs? He’s a dog. He’s supposed to go on walks.” He spared a glance at Pepper, “Right? Walks? He was fine this past month. He went on walks?”
“Octo did go on walks, yes, but I think he missed you while you were in California. I know I did.” Pepper smiled and started organizing the mess on the desk to keep her hands busy instead of pulling Tony into a hug, only propping her hip against the desk to face Tony after the folders were back in a neat pile.
“Maybe you should take some time off. You have enough to take off a couple weeks. Get back into the groove of the east coast? Maybe sleep off that jet lag you ignored this weekend?” At Tony’s exasperated look, Pepper plowed on.
“You just got back from a complete overhaul of the LA R&D department while also keeping investors entertained during the night for a little over a month. You’ve been traveling non-stop for the company for the past couple of months. Normally, I’d be fine with this, you’ve handled it before, but Tony...you’ve been a little...fragile since your breakup.”
Tony swallowed thickly and began picking at one of his cuticles. “I’ll be...It’s fine. I have Octo to keep me company. Don’t even miss dating,” Tony said, his fake smile cracking at Pepper’s no-nonsense expression. “And I think Octo likes me, so that's good?”
“Tony, that dog loves you, unqualified owner that you are,” Pepper said, “But I can’t deal with repairing the carpeting every time he rips it up when you leave. He needs to see you more than barely a weekend a month.”
“I mean, I’ll, I don’t know, see if I can get an in-house sitter or something to-”
“Tony. If you can’t take care of Octo, maybe you should-”
“No!” Tony blurted, “He’s mine! He’s all I have left of-” Tony stood abruptly, almost biting off his tongue to keep the words inside, breathing heavily from his nose as he turned to look out his floor-to-ceiling windows. “I’m going to keep Octo and take better care of him.” Tony finished, staring blankly at his reflection as he tried to compose himself.
The blanket of silence in the office suffocated Tony within seconds.
“Tony.” Pepper bridged the gap first, as she always did, approaching Tony from behind and continuing the thread of conversation. “You don’t have to keep Octo. Just because he was a gift from Ty-”
“I’m not keeping the dog because he was a gift.” Tony left his office, ignoring the questioning tone of Pepper’s voice that followed him out the door or Bambi’s wry, ‘I guess I’ll cancel all of Mr. Stark’s afternoon appointments?’ as he stormed past her towards the elevator.
Tony stepped out of the elevator cab, which led directly into the penthouse entrance area, with a huff and then a loud curse when he almost tripped on the huge dog sprawled directly in front of the elevator doors.
“God, shit, wha-Octo! Why?” Tony asked, pulling off his tie and ignoring the shakiness of his hands, “You can’t keep doing that? I’m going to step on you one day!”
The Doberman skittered backwards on the slate flooring as it stood, tail nub wiggling back and forth, before dropping into a deep bow. When Tony ignored the dog, instead toeing off his shoes and muttering under his breath, the dog followed behind two paces until Tony flopped onto the couch. The dog whimpered, prancing on its feet, waiting for the slap of a hand on the cushion to signal that it could jump up.
“Oh, fine. Fine, come up,” Tony said, opening up his arm so the dog could slump into his side once it had settled next to Tony, resulting in a pile of limbs and fur halfway in his lap. “You’re such a mush, don’t know why you didn’t want to go out today with Stephanie. You know, I pay her good money to come up here to keep you entertained.” The dog shook its head in disagreement, tags jingling on the plain leather collar, “I do, I really do,” he continued, patting the dog on its head, toying with the cropped ears that he’d have argued against if given the choice.
He would have changed a lot of things if he was given a choice; a running theme in a relationship that had lasted a bit over four years.
Tony was idly examining the painting that he had always hated, sitting on the couch that had just appeared in the apartment one day, when his eyes started pricking with hot heat.
Damn.
“I didn’t mess up too badly, did I?” He asked, rubbing up and down the warm side of the dog while gazing at the ceiling that had been repainted to a color that made him think of curdled milk. “I mean, I got you? You’re a pretty big plus in the pro column,” Tony continued, examining the living room again to see if there was anything else Tony had contributed, besides money and a warm body. “Definitely think you were the only thing good to come out of that breakup…”
When he had bought the penthouse, mostly due to it being so close to the office and Ty complaining about how long it took for Tony to get into Manhattan, Tony had known he would be gutting the place. Removing the wall-to-wall cream carpeting, ripping out all the wiring, and making something that he wouldn’t mind coming back to each night. He’d always thought one of those see-through fireplaces would be a hoot to show Rhodey.
But Ty hadn’t liked any of Tony’s ideas and thus the apartment, where Tony had hoped he’d be able to hide away from work and relax, had turned into some sort of pseudo-modern art museum, with too much white and chrome and not enough soft blankets or scented candles.
Tony toyed with the dog tags near his fingers as he remembered back before he was a CEO and was instead just a grumpy Long Island kid who had been transplanted to Queens. Back when his father had first started the company out of the back shed and his mother had taught piano lessons to ‘keep out’ of Howard’s hair. When Jarvis, their next door neighbor who was a widowed empty-nester, would come over to make dinner and help Tony with his English homework.
Closing his eyes, Tony could clearly picture the dark-colored, reclaimed wood flooring overlain with thick rugs and smell the faint whiff of his mother’s perfume mixing with the rosemary from the kitchen. A time when Tony was just allowed to be Tony and he wasn't so tired all the time.
Of course he’d kept the house after his parents had died in the car accident, but he’d barely been there since the fledgling company had become his responsibility and subsequently taken over his life. He’d pop over if the bi-weekly housekeeper noted anything was broken or missing, but Ty had never liked going out to Queens. So Tony, who was too busy wining-and-dining what he had hoped was his future fiancé, had not been able to really go to house for more than a quick peek-in for almost a half year.
That’d have to change. Octo deserved to see where his dad had grown up.
“I think it might be time to go home,” he said, reaching into his pocket to make some calls as he slumped deeper into the cushions, “I’m sure Jarvis wouldn’t mind spoiling his only grand-dog.” Tony smiled and didn't feel too tired anymore.
(^・ω・^ )