Best Bet

STEVE ROGERS HAD ALWAYS HATED Coach Fury's office. 

The room was dark and dusty, the blinds drawn in to block the natural sunlight from coming into the room. The shelves were left empty, and the big desk that sat in the front of the blond was clear of anything that had once been there. The carpets were bland, the walls a boring shade of beige. No student or teacher liked to be in here, which only spoke for itself. It seemed like no one had ever occupied the office in the first place, seeming at first just another place of wasted space on campus.

There was only two things that were slightly bearable about the room. The fact that it smelled like vanilla cookies, and the photograph hanging on the wall in a dark corner. The photo was bright, happy. A white light in the dark.

The picture showed Coach Fury and his two adopted daughters, Maria and Carol. The three of them stood smiling, arms wrapped around each other at a fair. In his hands, Fury was holding a teddy bear that he had won from one of the many game booths. A smile adorned his features, making the man look seemingly younger. Fury was always happier when the two girls came around for the holidays, the workouts easier on the tea, and his mood always brightened. The team loved it when they came around.

Most of the team one way or another had fallen in "love" with either Maria or Carol. While Steve didn't share those feelings, he couldn't doubt that they were both very successful and kind women. Carol worked as an officer in the Air Force, while Maria had chosen to become a marine. When Coach Fury had found out about the teams interest in his two daughters, he immediately forbid trying to flirt with either one of them or asking for their numbers. (Not that they would give it to any of the boys, anyway.) 

Not that Steve minded. Pretty girls didn't exactly meet his interests.

Once or maybe even twice Steve had been able to talk to both of them. From what he knew, they could put up a very good arm-wrestling match. 

In freshman year, a boy on the team had made a sexist comment to Maria, and in return she challenged him to a boxing match. He, of course, accepted, believing that it would be easier than any fight he had ever been in. Maria beat him. In mere seconds.

It became quite obvious to Steve that Maria and Carol were Coach Fury's sources of happiness. He loved his daughters more than anything in the world. Not to mention that it was absolute hell for the team when they left after the holiday seasons. The welcome was the best part for everyone, the goodbye being the one thing that was dreaded. Fury would start to return to his old routine: more yelling, mood swinging from left to right in moments. This cycle had continued for the two years that Steve had been at college playing football.

"Are you listening to me, boy?" Fury questioned, reaching out and snapping his fingers in front of the blonds face. As he was forced out of his head space, he could feel the red rising up his neck and onto his face. He only hoped that Coach wouldn't be able to see it in the dark lighting of the room.

"Yes, sir. All ears," Steve responded. 

"Do you know why I called you in here?" Coach asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Steve for the last two days had opted out of football practice. He had been in his dorm, catching up on the work that he hadn't yet finished for his classes. His grades were gradually going down because of these missing assignments. But of course Coach Fury would think this was due to arrogance. The nights were long, not to mention that the coffee maker in his small kitchen was broken. (He and Bucky had tried to fix it. Many times. It seemed as if now they would only have to buy a new one. Another valuable fifteen dollars down the drain for something that would probably break again.)

Balancing a sport and classes was not easy, but the blond knew that Coach wouldn't take that as an excuse. In a hurry. Steve had emailed him about it. It explained his current situation, and how he would make up for it later. But in came the one sentenced response: Meet me in my office at 6.

So, in short, yes. Steve knew better than anything why Coach had called him into his office. The blond lowered his head, embarrassed. "My grades, sir. I emailed you--"

Fury was quick to interrupt him. "I saw your email. Don't try and forget about your attendance to daily practice," the older man added, shaking his head in disappointment. "What is going on with you lately, Rogers? This team needs you, you know this team needs you. But what do I get? Another cocky college boy blowing off his chances just like that. Do you know what happens to cocky college boys?"

"They don't succeed, sir."

He nodded. "If this behavior continues to come from you, I'll have no choice other than to kick you off. If I don't, then the school sure damn will."

College football was not a thing that Steve enjoyed. He would rather spend his time and focus on his art education degree, not on lifting weights and trying to make it into the NFL. But, he was never as naturally good in academic subjects that other students around him excelled in. Mid-high school, Steve tried out for the football team to make up for it. Senior year, when the college football scouts started to come in to pick boys out, Steve was chosen. They offered him a full ride scholarship just to have him play on the team and attend. He couldn't just say no to the gracious offer. 

After his mother died, Steve found himself stuck in financial issues during high school. He was almost put in an orphanage, before Mrs. Barnes decided to swoop in and take him under her wing. A scholarship opportunity like this was the only thing that would be able to pay for college. (And he definitely wasn't going to ask Mrs. Barnes, he would live with that guilt forever.) The school had a known reputation not only for its great sports team, but also for its art program. He had to accept if it wanted a chance.

Having a position on the football team practically meant everything. No football team, no tuition payment.

"I understand, sir. I'll do my best to fix these things immediately." 

Steve knew it wasn't going to be easy. How was he going to be able to catch up on all his classes and understand everything he hadn't before? Student tutors were a valuable option, but word could get around fast that way. Everyone would suddenly know about the popular football player and his inability to learn basic things. If Steve went to his professors, they would ask why he hadn't been paying attention in class beforehand. Or asked for help earlier. Every single corner he turned it seemed as if something bad could and would result from it.

"Damn right, Rogers. Now get out of my office."

Steve got out of his seat as quickly as he could to get out of there, being careful as to closing the door softly behind him. The blond leaned up against the nearest wall in the dark hallway, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. The place was empty except for him and Coach Fury. He was grateful to be left alone to his own thoughts, as ideas began to run through his head. He could find an online tutor to help, but he was extremely award over cameras and talking over the phone. YouTube was another option that could prove to be a great help.

He would have to ask Wanda or Natasha later for class notes.

He could hear footsteps coming near, but Steve ignored them. So what if some teacher saw him in the hallway? Like it even mattered now.

"So, you need better grades or you're getting kicked off the football team? How cliche, Rogers." 

He gulped, and loudly too. Steve knew who that voice belonged to without even having to look at him. Tony Stark: the school's richest and most popular playboy. Everyone knew who Tony was. What was his business snooping around in empty hallways and eavesdropping on private conversations? The blond couldn't help but be annoyed that Tony was just here openly teasing him about it. There was no point to it either. Why tease the failing football player when you could be off for vacation on a private island with no consequences whatsoever? He huffed in annoyance.

Tony could go off to Europe for a month or two and return with no change to his grades. The professors at the school were always on his side, always understanding and giving him the time to do his work. (Maybe because they could possibly get fired if they didn't. Tony had power around here.) Oh, the lovely perks of having money. Steve had always wanted to go to Europe. He wanted to explore the quiet streets of Greece and walk around the historic sites in Rome. Tony had all of those privileges. Steve didn't. 

Perhaps that was one of the main differences between the two boys. One was a football player that had come from a poor lifestyle in his hometown with dreams of becoming an art teacher. The other was simply a pretty little playboy from a rich powerful family, who probably didn't even know what his ambitions were. Steve sighed, trying to get these thoughts out of his head. He couldn't discriminate just because Tony had been more fortunate than him. Sometimes he wondered if he was rich, would he and Tony be friends at the current moment? But wondering wasn't reality, he had to realize that.

Bucky and Sam were all he needed as far as friends went. Dating wasn't something he wanted to get into.

"Yeah, whatever Stark. Shove off," Steve told him, making his way to the nearest exit.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't go!" Stark called after him, running to catch up. Steve almost laughed at how short his legs were but kept quiet. "I have an offer for you."

"What?" An offer? 

"I tutor you and you go to three stuffy charity galas with me," Tony explained, waving his hands in the air as he looked up at Steve. Before any questions could be asked, he continued. "I'll provide the suits -- no one wants your physique in an unfitting rental."

"Are you kidding me Stark?"

Steve knew that Tony only had to be joking. 

"I need an impressive date to shut up Daddy Dearest. You're here." Oh, he thought, not joking.

Tony's face was close to his, and the beating in Steve's heart only quickened its pace. He could again feel the red coming up his neck in embarrassment, which only had him wishing that he had control over his blush, it was getting to be ridiculous. He had to keep it cool, or Tony would notice that he was faltering.

"Oh," Steve responded, grinning, "so now I'm impressive?"

"Well? What do you say, Rogers?"

"Stark, why would I want a rich, egotistical playboy to help me with my homework?" Steve asked. Tony's eyes widened in surprise, before covering up his facial expressions with a stupid smirk. Steve wanted to slap it off his face. You dumb, rich... Steve ran out of insults in his head at that point... but cute, tiny, rude boy!

"Besides me being a genius?" Steve scoffed, Tony continued anyways, "I'm your best bet, Rogers."

The silence between the two college boys said everything that Tony needed to know. Of course, Steve would accept his offer, hell knows he needs it. Tony could only hope that Steve would accept his offer. His father was picky when it came to dates. All of the women he brought to him didn't meet any of his standards. That one doesn't know how to properly drink wine, that one can't go three sentences without saying the word like, that one doesn't look good in green. They had to be perfect in every single way. Knowledgeable, pretty, honest and whatever else Howard could think of on the spot. Pepper Potts was the one Howard wanted Tony to pick.

Pepper and Tony had met through family friends, and had at one point attended a couple of events together. Both of them realized almost immediately that they didn't like each other, and decided to stay as friends. Suddenly after their "break up", every conversation was about Pepper. What happened to you and Ms. Potts? Did she run off with another boy? Her absence at events also brought on the attention of many rich snobs who only wanted something to gossip to one another about.

That sweet girl you brought, is she gone? What was her name, again? Penelope! Yes, she was a good one for you.

Tony got fed up, which was why he was here. Also maybe because he had happened to have a liking towards the football player, but that was beside the point.

"I... fine," Steve sighed as he gave in to it.

Tony smiled. "Six o'clock tomorrow, library. Bring your books. Don't be late, blue eyes." And with that, he walked off towards the exit door, a newly founded confidence in his step.

Steve was the one to call after him this time. "I'm going to regret this aren't I?"

Tony looked back, "Six o'clock!"

Steve decided on one thing right then and there: Tony Stark was going to be the death of him.