Best Bet

STEVE WAS UNSURE OF HOW to feel about the package that showed up in front of his door last night with no sign of Tony. But he knew he should have expected for something to show up at his door, anyway. During his short time of knowing the millionaire -- and knowing very little about him -- Steve knew with no doubt that he liked to be dramatic. To make an entrance everywhere he went. Tony could show up anywhere and anytime wearing the most ridiculous of outfits and nobody would question him on it. Because that was Tony Stark. The package showing up with his name written on it and a brief note was nothing out of the ordinary for the brunet to do.

Tony could have shown his face. He could've waited at the door for Steve to answer, the package held tightly in his tiny hands. But he didn't, and it hurt Steve a little.

Instead of dealing with his thoughts, Steve showed up early to his art class instead. It was one of the only places that he felt he could truly be honest with himself. No cheerleaders, no football buddies that wanted to hang out for underage drinking. It was peaceful. 

Steve knew way too many people. It was one of the things that came with being a star football player. In classes, people would walk up to him randomly and start a conversation. Most times it was someone he couldn't even put a name to. All of the art classes had a different crowd. He didn't fit in with them, that much was true, but it was nice to not be so known. They would give him one look and it was over. Steve Rogers wasn't Steve Rogers, the popular boy. Steve Rogers was Steve Rogers, the boy who liked to paint and draw portraits. 

The blond put his frustration out onto the canvas, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't know what he was painting, but did it matter? Strokes and dabs of paint here and there, maybe a cloud in the left corner. It was okay to express freedom in the world of art. Soon enough, his hands were littered with different shades of paint, his shirt stained with them too. He didn't really mind, though.

"Steve," Mrs. Carter said in amazement from behind him, a smile coming upon her red-tinted lips, "That's absolutely beautiful."

Mrs. Carter had always appreciated Steve's art. She let him come in early and leave late if he pleased. He was granted access to the clay and the special oils and paintbrushes in the secret cabinet behind her desk. The respect that was shared between the two of them only seemed to grow every time they were together, and he was truly grateful for it. Where would he be without a great art teacher such as her?

"Thank you, Mrs. Carter," he looked up at her with a smile. 

"And what does this piece represent, Mr. Rogers?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

To tell the truth, it didn't represent anything in particular. Perhaps it was his feelings painted out onto a canvas, but he wasn't even sure of how to explain that. His feelings were confusing lately, all jumbled up into one big mess that he couldn't unravel. 

"It... doesn't represent anything exactly. I'm not sure. Not yet, at least."

"Well, you make sure to tell me when you find out." She walked off to her desk without another word.

With a quick look at the clock, Steve saw that there was only fifteen minutes before class actually started. Other classmates would start to file in soon. He picked up all his brushes and walked to the sink to rinse them off. He would leave his painting out to dry in the class overnight, and pick it up in the morning. Maybe he could give it to Mrs. Carter as a gift, as he did with most of his pieces if he didn't keep them or give them to someone else for a Christmas or birthday gift. 

"You're talented at painting, you know." 

Steve jumped, before turning around with a tint of red on his cheeks. It was from Tony. Of course, it was Tony, looking good as always. He wore his lab coat over his t-shirt and high waisted jeans. In his hands was Steve's abstract art, a smirk on his lips as he stared at it before putting it back down. "You're kind of creepy when you scare me like that, you know," Steve told him. "I didn't know you had an art class."

"Oh, I don't. My father was friends with Mrs. Carter at one point, shes a family friend."

"Oh. Well, thanks for the compliment, I guess. My art... it's kind of messy. I'm glad you like it." Steve rubbed the back of the neck with his hand, looking down at the floor. He looked like a mess. His blond hair was probably everywhere, paint stains on his clothing and his hands. Most likely his face too. His art wasn't that good, either. He wouldn't have cared if it was anyone else seeing him like this, or even saw his art. So why did he care about it around Tony?

"Of course I would like it. Why wouldn't I?"

Why wouldn't I?  Steve couldn't believe the words that came out of Tony Stark's mouth. He would've never expected it.

Silence. Again.

Every time they talked, there was always the silence that occurred between both of them. Both of them had acknowledged it, but couldn't begin to explain it. It stayed like that for a minute, before Tony decided to speak up.

"Did... did you um, get my...  gift ?" Tony asked him, biting the edge of his lips. Steve found himself staring at them, before forcing himself to divert his eyes to somewhere else on his face. "I was hoping I didn't get the wrong place. That would've been weird."

"You got the right place," Steve said with an awkward nod of his head. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Did you try it on? I had to contact your damn football coach to get your measurements," he explained with a laugh. 

Steve's eyebrows furrowed. Tony specially ordered a suit for him? He internally shook his head. Without a fitted suit, he would be the clown at the gala, the joke among all the rich old women and men. Of course Tony specially ordered it. He didn't want to show up with an idiot in a too tight-fitting or baggy suit. Nothing else other than that.

"I haven't tried it on yet. Guess we'll find out and see."

"Guess we'll find out and see," Tony repeated. "I'll see you later, then? You're not backing out yet?"

"I won't be backing out just yet."

Tony smiled, looking out into the classroom. "Good. I'll be going, I wouldn't want to interrupt your class."

Part of Steve wanted Tony to sit next to him for the rest of the class. To compliment him on his art and ask questions about the different shades and types of paintbrushes. To ask him to grab something he dropped on the floor. To whisper stupid jokes in his ear and try not to be called out by Mrs. Carter.

But he didn't say anything about those thoughts. "Farewell, Stark."

"Farewell to you too, Rogers."

☆

"Go take a fucking shower," Bucky told Steve, scrunching his nose in disgust. "You smell horrible.  Goddamn ."

"How is it my fault that Coach was in a bad mood today?" Steve asked him. 

During the day it had begun to rain, which of course didn't cancel practice. It only made it worse. Steve was in his regular clothing from earlier that day, but the rest of his body was covered in a layer of dirt, mud, and sweat. 

"I don't know, but you probably did something," Bucky said jokingly, pointing to the bathroom as he pinched his nose. "Please just go take a shower."

But the blond did agree with his friend. He probably did smell horrible -- which he was nose blind to at this point -- and his skin felt sticky and gross. Without another word he went into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Steve closed the door and began to take all his clothes off. 

His thoughts mindlessly wandered to Tony earlier that day in the art classroom. He didn't know how Tony knew he was in there, or where his dorm even was for goodness sake, but the blond was glad to have seen him. The smile on Tony's lips, the genuine compliments that he had given him. Steve knew he couldn't have been developing a crush. Of course, he couldn't be. Tony Stark wasn't gay, and never would be. There would be no point in developing feelings, it would only end in hurt.

But he couldn't deny the way his heart started to beat a little faster when he talked with him. Or the way he blushed so easily with his words. It wasn't a crush. It couldn't be.

After cleaning up he got out of the shower as fast as he could. "Hey, Buck?" Steve called out from the bathroom door, "Could you get me the box that's on my bed?"

He heard a muffled yes from the door, followed by heavy footsteps toward his room. He could only hope that Bucky wouldn't get curious and open it and see the contents inside. Steve didn't want to discuss it at this point.  You're going on a date? When did you get this? Was this at the door last night? Why didn't you tell me?  He would tell Bucky soon, of course, he would, but just not now.

"What the fuck?" Bucky said, "Stevie, what is this? A suit? Is this from Tony?"

Crap.

Steve quickly wrapped a towel around his waist before stepping out of the bathroom. " Buck," Steve began, "It's not a big deal."

"I think this is a pretty big deal," he responded with a smirk on his face, holding the package in his hands. It relieved Steve to see that the note wasn't attached, and was still in the pockets on his pants from yesterday.

" Bucky--"

"I didn't know you had a little secret boyfriend! Why didn't you tell me?" Bucky laughed. "So secretive. Picnic in the park? Flying around in one of his private planes?"

" I don't have a boyfriend, I'm not going on a date," the blond reminded him. "It's the charity event I told you about, and that is the suit he said he would get for me to wear. Rich people are snobby about what people wear, you know."

"So... a date."

"No." Steve successfully grabbed the box quickly out of his hands, gripping it tightly in his grasp. "Your definition of a date is much different than mine."

"I'm just messing with you, Stevie. Don't get so worked up about it, okay? I care about you, and Tony is much or less a... fuckb--"

"I wasn't getting worked up," he responded hastily. Tony wasn't a fuckboy. Steve wouldn't call him a fuckboy. But Bucky didn't see it that way. Tony had a heart, too. He sighed, "I'm sorry. I know you're worried, but... he and I aren't dating. We aren't going on dates and we don't like each other."

" Mhm. Sure seems like Stark has taken a liking to you."

"He doesn't."

"Sure, keep saying that, you'll see."

☆

Steve waited awkwardly for Tony to arrive, standing on the sidewalk right outside of his dormitory. He was fumbling with his hands, picking at his nails carelessly. The heat from the outdoors was beginning to make him sweat, and the bugs were beginning to try and bite at his neck. Steve swatted them away. He had decided to be early, too, which ended up being a big mistake. People who passed by gave him second looks, which only meant one thing: he was entirely out of place. His hair was done up and was wearing a suit with the nicest shoes he owned. In the bathroom mirror, the blond had thought he looked somewhat decent. But now in public, his low self-esteem was really beginning to shine.

He reached his hand inside one of the pockets of his pants to retrieve his phone. The screen illuminated his face in the dark. Eight. Tony should be here any minute now. He tapped his foot on the hard pavement out of pure nervousness.

At the sound of an engine, Steve turned his head. A sleek black car had pulled up along the sidewalk, the passenger window rolled all the way down. The man sitting at the driver's seat was no other than Tony, his brown hair messy and falling around his face. A smile made its way onto Steve's face. "You going to get in, Rogers?" Tony questioned, popping the car door open.

Steve nodded and got in the car, hitting his head against the top of the door frame. A small pulsing sensation started at the top of his head, and he rubbed it in hopes of the pain going away. The blond felt his face heat up, but the darkness inside of the car was enough to hide it. He pulled the car door closed and buckled himself into the seat.

Tony looked him up and down, with what seemed like eyes of judgment. "You look--"

"Bad?" Steve jested. 

"I was going to say decent, but that's another way of wording it," Tony jokingly added on. "Don't stress about it. You look great."

As Tony drove, most of the ride there was spent in silence. Steve spent that time looking out the window, enjoying the views. He didn't get to go out as often as he would like to, and boy did it feel good to be doing something for once. 

"Can... can I roll the window down?" Despite the heat outside, he just wanted to feel the wind on his face. Tony only responded to that with a nod of his head. 

Steve rolled the window down in excitement, getting hit with a gust of fast blowing air. It blew his hair back and dried his eyes and mouth out, but he couldn't find one part of him that really seemed to care. He could fix his hair later. His body would always produce more saliva and his eyes would always produce an endless supply of tears.

The blond didn't know it, but every once in awhile, Tony would look over and smile at this boy being such a dork about being able to have the window rolled down in the car.

He rolled the window back up as they pulled into a parking lot. Steve almost got out, but Tony seemed to be stuck in place. He left the car door alone, waiting for Tony's cue to get out. Silence filled the space between them once again.

Tony ran his hands through his hair, letting out a long breath. "Talk."

"What?" 

"Talk to me. Say something. Anything. Tell me about yourself."

Steve had a lot of interesting stories he could tell. How Bucky had protected him from his childhood bullies. How he accidentally broke into the principal's office in high school. His experience in being background props in school plays, along with an understudy for the kids with the main parts. He decided to settle for a story that was simple to tell.

"I used to babysit my neighbor's cat when I was a kid," Steve began. "That cat hated my guts. It would scratch up my arms if I didn't feed it on time, and if it was disinterested in its toys it would try and destroy furniture around the house. Eventually, the neighbor was like,  Steve, we love you, but you can't do this anymore for us.  I got fired without even being told that I was being fired. My mother wasn't even mad at me for it. Later that week I had found a job for the local newspaper, except all I did was ride my bike around and throw it into people's yards. I got fired from that, too."

"How did you get fired?" Tony asked. His head was leaned against the back of his car seat, his eyes shut closed.

"I might have or might have not hit a woman in the face with one of the papers one afternoon. She was furious. This woman called it in and reported me and everything, even though I had apologized many times." Steve let out a small laugh. "The people there were like,  really Steve?  They didn't want to let me go because I was the only one willing to go around on my bike for such a low pay rate, but they didn't want to deal with her again."

"And did you have any jobs after that?"

"I had a lot of jobs after those. I used to pump gas at the gas station until I spilled it on someone's shoes. I walked dogs until one of the bigger ones tried to bite me. I also tried a local grocery store but I wasn't tall enough at the time to stock some of the shelves and I wasn't good at putting food in bags. I was fired literally every single time for some small reason but I didn't really care. There were always other jobs open for me to try out. Like lawn mowing, I was okay at that."

"What's your--"

"Wait. It's your turn to tell me about you."

Tony opened one of his eyes to give Steve a look, a small smile on his lips. "You could look all of that up, Rogers." 

"But I don't want to. Let me hear it from you and you only."

He lifted his head up from the car seat, narrowing his eyes at the blond. "I must say I'm surprised. But fine, I'll tell you something anyway." He looked out the window. "I never had to have a job like you when I was younger. My father had enough money to support the family for the rest of our lives. But, some part of me just wanted to be normal, you know? So I went out and got a job myself, never told my employer my real name and always wore a beanie over my hair. I worked in an auto shop, fixing people's cars in my free time. My father noticed how busy I had suddenly become and decided that he would follow me out one day to where I worked."

Tony stopped.

"So, what happened?" 

"He brought a car of his own in, asking specifically for me to fix it. But the car was a piece of shit, it couldn't even be fixed. He stood there for hours while I tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with it. It took all night only for me to fail. He told my employer that I was a bad mechanic, that I needed to be fired immediately. And though he appreciated my work and how much I had helped the shop, he had to fire me. My father did that to embarrass me, to teach me some sort of fucked up lesson. All I learned that night was how to be more secretive around him and my mother."

Steve looked over at Tony with a frown. "Your parents treated you that way? Why?" Steve's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"It's fine, Rogers. It's nice having someone to talk to for once."

 "You ready, Rogers?"

"Not really," he admitted. "Not my scene."

Tony laughed at that. "Not mine either."

Tony flipped open the mirror that was attached to the car ceiling, putting locks of his hair here and there to fix it. Steve did the same, realizing that somehow the wind had made his look a lot better than he had tried to make it look.

The brunet opened the car door, stepping out as Steve followed. The two walked together through the parking lot, as the area became more and more crowded as they got nearer.

"Do you have to attend every single one of these events?" Steve asked, his eyes wandering around. It was mostly old men and women who gathered around the entrance, the occasional young woman or man here and there. They all wore their fanciest outfits, with their posture perfect and steps that almost seemed fake. Steve pulled his shoulders back immediately. 

"Not always. But most times, yes."

As they continued to walk towards the entrance, Steve noticed how calm Tony seemed. It might not be either of their scenes or their crowds, but Tony was obviously accustomed to fitting into this lifestyle. Tony had dealt with this from a young age, and he felt a pang of sympathy in his heart for him. 

Curious eyes from all directions followed the two, and Steve noticed. But did Tony?

Steve leaned down and whispered in his ear as they were walking. "Is it okay to be nervous? People are looking at us."

"It's because they're homophobic assholes. A man and a man showing up together for an event, oh, how taboo," Tony mocked, flinging his hands up in the air. "Don't let them get to you. Shoulders back, hold your chin up high." Steve held his head up, and Tony smiled widely. "Not that high, Rogers. Laugh, right now. Like I just told you something funny."

So Steve did, and Tony gave him a side smirk. "You'll fit in just fine."

"Name?" A man at the front door asked them. He held a clipboard so tightly in one of his shaking hands that his knuckles were white. On the other hand, he held a blue fountain pen, with a feather at the top that was nearly falling apart. 

"Stark."

The man looked up immediately from his clipboard, red covering his cheeks. His shaking only seemed to worsen. "Oh, I apologize Mr. Stark. Go right in."

Tony put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, kid. It's all good."

The door was opened for the two of them, revealing the beautifully decorated interior of the building. It was almost blinding to Steve, it looked like a scene straight off of a movie. Immense chandeliers hung from the ceilings, red carpets covering the floor that they walked on. Banners were hung from posts on the wall. Waiters walked by everyone hurriedly, platters balanced on their hands with different types of food and drinks on top. Steve couldn't focus on just one thing in the room. His eyes switched from one place to the next, craning his neck to try and see everything. Oh, only if Bucky could see this right now.

The thought of quickly taking out his phone and snapping a picture for his friend occurred in his mind, but he pushed that idea away almost instantly. If Steve wanted to blend in, he knew he could walk around acting like a tourist.

More heads seemed to turn to look at Steve and Tony as they walked by. A woman suddenly approached the two of them. She was undeniably pretty, with sleek orange hair and bright blue eyes. The dark blue dress that she wore was alluring. The blond began to wonder if these were the type of women that Tony often brought along to these events. "Tony!" The girl gushed, reaching in for a hug. "I thought you might not show up. God, we have a lot of catching up to do."

"Nice to see you, too, Pepper." Tony barely managed to get the words out because of how tightly she was hugging him. He wrapped his arms around her before the two of them let go. "Steve, this is Pepper. Pepper, this is Steve. She's an old friend of mine," the brunet explained.

"It's nice to meet you, Steve," Pepper told him. 

"It was nice to meet you, also, Pepper," Steve smiled. "Always nice to meet new people."

"Are you not from around here?" She questioned. "Tony hasn't brought you up around me before."

"Steve, why don't you go find my father and talk to him for a bit, okay?" Tony suggested, pointing to a large opening that led to another room. "I'll be right there."

"Of course," Steve said, gulping. He didn't want Tony to leave his side. How could he do this alone? He walked off in that direction anyway, trying his best to not look how he felt. 

He walked around in the area awkwardly for a bit, leaning his head this way and that way in a search for any man that even looked similar to Howard Stark. Steve didn't even know if the man had a mustache or not. He had seen glimpses of him from news articles online and on television, but they typically used younger pictures of the billionaire. Who knew what he looked like at the current moment? 

The blond felt a light tap on his shoulder, and he turned around to see an older man with a full head of white hair. "Are you... Stephen Rogers? Steven?"

"It's Steve," he reminded the man in front of him with a fake smile. 

"I apologize for the mix-up. I am afraid Tony doesn't tell me much. I'm Howard Stark, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers."

Oh, crap.

His cheeks flushed out of pure embarrassment. He shamed himself internally for not being able to recognize him at first sight. Steve held out his hand for Howard to shake almost immediately. "It's nice to meet you, too, sir."

"And the boy has manners!" Howard said to himself in surprise, gripping his hand and shaking it vigorously. Steve furrowed his eyebrows. "I see that Tony can pick out his dates rather well. Why don't we step right over there to have a nice little chat?" He had his hand pointed over to a corner in the room, which automatically made the blond's hands start to sweat.

Date. It wasn't a date. Howard sure seemed to think it was, though.

Where was Tony when he needed him?

Steve nodded, gulping rather loudly. Howard grinned at that. "Sounds good with me."

Howard walked right next to Steve's side, always attempting to make straight eye contact with him. The blond knew this must be some sort of stupid intimidation tactic, and it was working. He pretended like he was entranced by the activities going on around them instead. Oh, how interesting! A waiter with a plate full of shrimp in his hands! A woman that was focused intently on fixing the nail on her index finger. How amazing.

"Tell me about yourself, Steve," Howard told him. It sounded more like a demand than it did anything else. A short silence followed, and the older man let out a laugh. "There is no need to be shy. I don't bite."

Steve wasn't too sure about believing that statement just yet. Howard Stark was the type of man to bite first. To become a businessman as successful as him, people had to have the mental and sometimes physical strength of a shark. He couldn't give into it. 

"I... play football for the school," Steve began. It was a start, at least.

"Oh, I knew that already," Howard told the blond, seeming as if he was already bored of the conversation. Steve found himself raising an eyebrow at the man in question. Did Tony tell him that, or did this man do some research on his own? Howard gave an innocent shrug, "It's easy to look someone up online, you know. You're a star player. Slightly impressive."

It was more than just a google search of his name, that was for certain. Howard had power. The man had money. He could know anything about anyone within a matter of minutes with a snap of his fingers.

A waiter approached the two. "Drinks?"

Howard grabbed two, and Steve thought he was about to offer him one. "Any for you, Mr. Rogers?"

He directed his attention to the waiter. "No thank you," he told them with a curt nod. They walked off without another word. "I don't drink, Mr. Stark," Steve explained to him.

"I must say, I should have expected you to not be the drinking type." Howard began to chug the first glass of the drink the waiter had given them. Whatever it was, Steve knew Howard probably needed more than two cups to get drunk. "You're an athlete with good ambitions, I suppose? What are your plans for after college, Steve? The NFL? Very competitive." The man moved onto the next glass and downed it in seconds, setting the two of them on the floor for pick up. He wiped his lip off with the back of his bare hand.

"I'm... not exactly sure yet. I have two years to figure it all out," Steve responded with a shrug. In two years, he did not see himself ever wanting to join the NFL. Nothing even related to sports. But he wasn't willing to tell Howard that he had a degree in art education, and was planning on getting a job as an elementary school teacher. Howard probably knew that about him already, anyway. "There's a lot of options for me out there, sometimes it's just hard to pick and choose."

"Two years can go by fast." Howard put a hand on Steve's shoulder and the blond tense upon contact. "Why don't you come on over here? I have a friend of mine that I want you to meet." Mr. Stark led the way, lightly wrapping his hand around the boy's waist as he led both of them to another room. Steve found himself to be immensely uncomfortable and was desperately searching around for any sign of Tony. Steve pulled lightly against his grip, but Howard tightened it slightly. 

Tony, where in the world are you?

Howard continued to speak. "This man you're about to meet, he used to help me when I was younger. Just starting out in the big world as a young man! It's crazy how far he and I go back, and now he's helping Tony. Beautiful, isn't it? Friendships can last a long time if you play your cards--"

"Dad," a voice said from behind them, "Could I please take my date away for a moment?"

Steve let out a long breath of relief. Oh, thank god.

"Tony! Finall-- I mean, yes, please, excuse us."

Howard turned both of them around, hand still resting on the blond's hip. Tony's eyes flickered down at his father's hand in disgust, before making his face with an emotion that was unrecognizable to Steve. Howard looked harshly at his soon, before looking up at Steve to give him a smile. "I expect to be talking to you later, Mr. Rogers." His hand dropped.

"Of-- of course, Mr. Stark," the boy stammered, practically rushing over towards Tony. "We will, um, talk soon."

Tony led Steve away, but he could still feel Howard's eyes burning holes into his back from afar. Steve had the urging suspicion that maybe Howard didn't even like him at all.

"Thank God, Tony." 

"Aw, I'm happy to see you, too, Stevie." Tony joked, before looking at him more seriously. "But yeah, he's an asshole with his suffocating incorrect remarks."

"And the handsiness. The hand on my hip." Steve shrugged carelessly. "He seemed to be okay with me for the most part, so that's a win, right? Your dad likes me."

"I... Did he make you uncomfortable? What am I asking, of course he did, that asshole, I'm going to--" Tony was started to ramble, his face turning red as his eyebrows furrowed.

Steve's heart fluttered at the prospect that Tony cared. Because, God, did Steve care about Tony. More than he would like to admit.

"Tony, no!" Steve interrupted the brunet. Tonight there would be no physical confrontations between Tony and his father, he would make sure of that. "What are you-- no, don't worry about me. This is all just very... new. These people say cutting remarks between straight, white teeth. I honestly have no idea how anyone could deal with them alone as long as you have."

Tony shook his head. "Yeah, I... I'm sorry, Steve. You shouldn't have been pulled into this. You deserve so much better than the assholes here. If-- if you want to, you don't have to come to the next two galas."

You deserve so much better than the assholes here. The words echoed in the blonds head.

"Tony, has anyone told you that you have a tendency to only hear the bad things?" Steve questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Surprisingly, yes."

"Unsurprisingly." Steve let out a chuckle, looking out into the distance. "What I was gonna say is how amazing you are for lasting this long. And how I wouldn't want you to go through any more of these alone. Not that you don't have your parents--"

"Steve, trust me, I know. My parents aren't very active in my life."

"Yeah, kind of. And your dad seems..." 

Horrible. Repulsive. Vile. Horrid. Words couldn't begin to explain how Steve felt about Howard Stark.

"He's an asshole. Yeah. But God, he liked you really quick, didn't he?"

That much was true. Despite Howard's ways of showing that he liked people, it could've been worse.

"Maybe because I am also an asshole," the blond retorted.

"Maybe." He held up a finger. "Or, it's because you're the exact opposite and he, too, isn't able to defy your charms."

"Do you want to... dance?" Steve rubbed the back of his neck, his face flushing. "Do you-- would you like to... Tony Stark, would you want to--"

"Yes, I'll dance with you. I'd thought you never ask."

"Thank you."

☆

The crowd around them stared, even when they left the dance floor. The blond knew how self conscious he was because of this. They were all, in one way or another, judging the both of them silently. But this time, Steve learned to ignore it, a little bit at the least. All that mattered was Tony. The way he moved so graciously, helping Steve follow his movements without stumbling.

Tony leaned up on his tip toes, his lips right next to Steve's ear. "Do you want to leave?" He whispered.

Steve laughed, "Of course."

☆

The hallway leading up to Steve's dorm was dark and empty. The two of them walked side by side, shoulders constantly bumping into each other because of the small width of the area. Every touch sent tingles through Steve's arm. When they arrived, both of them seemed to know exactly where the door was. Steve, because that was where he slept and ate most of the time. And Tony, because he was the one to drop the suit off yesterday night.

Steve still wasn't sure on how Tony got the address.

The blond leaned up against the wall, looking at the brunet. "We probably look ridiculous," Steve commented, gesturing to their suits.

"You look ridiculous. Now, me on the other hand? Sexy. Gorgeous." Tony joked, that same stupid smirk on his face. 

"This is officially goodbye for now?" Steve asked, looking at his dorm door in sadness. The thought of leaving Tony so early in the night made part of him upset. He had made a good friend, why did their night have to be over so suddenly? 

"For now. I will be expecting to see you on time in the library on Friday."

"What time were you thinking?"

"Whatever works. You can text me." Tony winked at him. 

"I don't have your number, Stark."

"Check your pocket."

Steve fumbled around in his pocket, his fingers finally touching a crumpled up note. He retrieved it and flattened it out with his thumbs. Tony's number was indeed on the slip of paper. "Wow. Okay. I'll give you credit for that one."

Steve looked around the hallway and determined that it was only about 11. If they were still at that event, people would still be donating how ever much money they wanted to prove their wealth. He was glad that Tony had proposed the offer to leave. It was about to become unbearable. The only regret the blond had was not taking some food with him on the way out, the shrimp being served could've fed him and Bucky for days.

He let out a laugh at the thought. Who steals shrimp from a charity gala?

"What's so funny?" The brunet raised one eyebrow at him. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no," Steve assured him. "I should've taken some food out while we were leaving. My roommate and I have a liking for shrimp."

"Shrimp, huh? I could get you some, you know," Tony offered. "We could go to that one nice place downtown and get takeout. I would eat it with you here if... your roommate doesn't mind."

Their faces seemed to inch closer with every second that passed by, and Steve could feel the heat running up his neck and into his face. The fast beat of his heat was undeniable, along with the foggy haze in his mind. His eyes flickered down from Tony's eyes to his lips, trying in some way to figure out if he was feeling these emotions too. Tony looked beautiful in those moments. Deep brown eyes and a smile made of gold.

Steve leaned in a little further.

"Steve," Tony said in an almost whisper.

Was that the first time Tony had ever called him by his first name to his face? It sounded nice coming from him.

"Tony," he murmured back. 

"Steve?" Bucky said groggily as he opened the door. His hair was messy and part of his face was red from whatever he had been napping on. "Come inside, dude, what are you doing out here?"

The two backed away immediately in the presence of Bucky, both of their eyes wide. The sight was suspicious, but Steve hoped Bucky was too tired from sleeping to even notice. Or care.

"Bye, Tony." He gave him a small smile and waved to him as he entered his dorm.

The door was closed quickly by Bucky, but Steve swore he had seen Tony wave back, too.

He could never be sure.