Chapter 5
Tony didn't turn back, didn't risk Steve seeing the bright shade of scarlet he had certainly turned.
He stood in that doorway a long moment, trying to catch his breath.
What the hell had just happened? He felt such a tumultuous mix of emotions.
He'd kissed Steve. He had kissed Steve. He had kissed Steve. What the hell?
He hoped he'd played it off well enough as part of their little game, and Steve certainly seemed to have no problem taking this thing that far.
Hell, Steve was something else.
Tony, however, left in the solitude of the slumbering dorm, found himself unable to deny it had come from something more.
And why was Steve so interested in his damn dad? Sure, his whole life Tony had been recognized as Howard Starks kid; everyone knew who the late great engineer was.
But not everyone was interested in hearing what Tony thought about his dad, and not everyone used present tense terms to describe a guy who had been dead nearly a decade.
And no one slapped Tony Stark's ass.
He was prone to be the one delivering the ass-slapping.
Even when he regained his sense well enough to sit back down with his project phone, his mind was no longer on it, and he eventually resigned to the fact that he would get no more done tonight.
He glanced at his watch to find it was not even three in the morning yet.
Early bed for him.
When Tony entered the dark room, he was surprised to see the bottom bunk had only a backpack, devoid of Steve's magnanimous form.
Upon closer inspection, Tony realized incredulously that it was his backpack.
“No way…” he muttered under his breath, backing up enough to see the large silhouette atop the bunk bed.
Tony smirked. This was a game he would not lose.
Without but a moment's hesitation, Tony clambered up onto the bed and slid in beside Steve, who sat halfway up upon his arrival.
Apparently not asleep yet.
“Tony, the heck?” He managed in a whisper.
“I could ask you the same.” Tony shot back, snickering at his roommates word choice. “This is my bed.”
“It's mine by right.” Steve hissed defiantly. “And I'm reclaiming it, so get down.”
“What, you dont wanna share with me?” Tony asked cheekily, in response to which Steve sat all the way up, twisting so he could look down at Tony.
“No. I want to sleep. Get down.”
Tony raised his eyebrows flirtatiously. “Maybe you do have some top in you. That's pretty hot actually.”
“Tony, I will push you off this bed.” Steve growled.
“I'm not going anywhere, Rogers. Get used to it.” He put his hands below the back of his head, gazing up at Steve in the dim light.
The blond let out a guttural sound, turning from where he sat so his knees were on either side of Tony's.
The raven felt apprehension and anticipation begin to close his throat as the blond got settled.
“It's late,” he reached with one hand and grabbed one of Tony's wrists in a solid grip. “I'm tired,” He grabbed the other and shifted so they were both in one of his hands.
Tony felt shivers run through him, totally compliant as Steve leaned in close to his face for the last part. “And you know what I want,” he began in a sultry voice, right in Tony's ear. “More than anything right now?”
Tony's throat was dry, or maybe totally closed up, he wasn’t sure. Either way, words failed him and he simply quirked up an eyebrow in prompt.
Steve used his free hand to cup Tony's cheek gently, before moving to the back of his neck where he grabbed it rather roughly.
His heavy chest pressed into Tony as he leaned to whisper in his ear once more. “To sleep.”
And in a moment, he was off of Tony, his hand which had been securing both of the ravens flew to scoop beneath his knee and, true to tale, he swung the smaller man off of the bed and he landed with a poof! on the bottom bunk.
All of the air went from Tony's lungs, and he was grateful Steve was far away on the top bunk and couldn't see him flush.
His breath was ragged, though how much was from being physically thrown like a goddamn rag doll and how much was from… Everything else Steve did was interminable.
Needless to say, Tony did not get much sleep that night.
So the next morning, when he woke up on his internal clock just before six, he was still pretty tired.
He heard the rustling of newspaper, and was filled with a feeling he'd rather not name as the events of the previous night came back to him with the realization that he was on the bottom bunk.
A personal failure, in Tony's mind.
He stood, made his way into the living area in time for Steve to set down his newspaper and rinse his coffee cup, a towel in his hand.
He paused when Tony came in, his face uncharacteristically impassive as he spoke. “Did you need the bathroom before I take a shower?” He asked, no hint of suggestiveness in his voice.
Tony pursed his lips. “No, but I do need to use it while you shower.” He let the smirk creep slowly onto his lips as Steve processed what he'd said.
Once he'd put it together, the blond rolled his eyes. “Right. Well, I'm gonna go shower.” And without so much as a snappy comment, he went into the bathroom and locked the door.
Tony watched after him a moment, wondering if he'd been pushing too far.
Was his roommate upset about their kiss? He certainly hadn't seemed it at the time, and his playful approach to removing Tony from his bed suggested he wasn’t upset.
Tony pondered these things as be sipped his coffee and waited for Steve.
He actually did need to go to the bathroom.
He glanced at the newspaper Steve had been reading: The New York Post, filled with exciting news about the latest serial murders, ‘gang’ activity and ‘mob’ wars.
Not Tony's cup of tea.
So he pulled out his phone and checked his e-magazine subscriptions, reading half-heartedly through them until the shower turned off.
He clicked off his phone, and turned to face the door in time for it to open to produce…
“Jesus H. Christ…” he muttered under his breath.
Steve, bare-chested in nothing but a towel, water still glistening on his defined, expansive chest, was scowling at him.
“You shouldn't say that in vain.” He said pointedly, before his expression turned smug.
Tony quickly gathered himself, allowing his eyes to roam even with Steve watching him. “You are a tall drink of water, Rogers.” He clicked his tongue for emphasis.
Steve just rolled his eyes, moving toward the living area.
Tony watched him go, but made no move toward him.
Steve continued to his reclaimed top bunk, where he retrieved a neatly pressed shirt and pants from his suitcase, before moving on back towards the bathroom.
Now Tony made his move, sliding casually into the bathroom door frame and effectively blocking it.
Steve stopped a few feet away, a tired look crossing his face.
But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced with that challenging glint.
The blond stalked right up to him, placed a hand flat on Tony's chest, and shoved him hard enough that the smaller student stumbled back into the bathroom counter.
Steve then continued to walk forward to him, and placed a hand on either side of the counter behind him, pressing his damp chest to Tony.
“If you'll excuse me,” he wrapped an arm around Tony's waist, and then with lightning speed had turned around and shoved the raven again, out into the kitchen.
Tony stumbled but quickly regained himself, turning to stare as Steve gave him a last look, an expression Tony couldn't quite read on his face, before closing the bathroom door and locking it.
Tony needed to step up his game.
If they'd been keeping score, between last night to today he realized, Steve would be winning.
But how far was the soldier really willing to take this?
How far were either of them willing to take it?
The engineer shook his head, returning to his coffee.
His damp shirt was a reminder of just how badly he was losing.
Unaware of what drove him, and without really considering it, he lifted the damp part to his nose and smelled it.
It smelled like Steve, and damn did he smell good.
When the blond emerged, Tony made a point to look disappointed by his covered body. “Nah, I liked the other outfit better.” He decided.
Steve raised an eyebrow at him, moving to lean on the counter opposite, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
Tony studied him. The blond had been reserved when he met him, but now he seemed more… thoughtful.
“What's on your mind, Apple Pie?” Tony asked casually, cupping the warm mug to occupy his hands.
Steve shook his head, that tired look returning to his face.
“Long night, that's all.” He said, exhaustion evident in his tone.
Tony pursed his lips. “I, uh,” he licked his lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “I'm sorry if I made it… longer.” He muttered sheepishly.
He was surprised to hear Steve chuckle softly. “No actually you-you helped - er, at least, distracted.”
Tony allowed a cocky smirk to settle back onto his face. “If there is one thing Anthony E. Stark excels at, its distraction.” He winked and bit his lip, and saw Steve smiling softly. The raven sombered up. “But tell me; what terrible things come to haunt Steve Rogers into needing distraction at all hours of the night?”
The smile was still there, but it was more sad now then anything as Steve dropped his gaze to the floor before him and shrugged. “Skeletons.” He muttered simply, before his expression turned serious and he locked eyes with Tony. “That stuff I told you last night, about my history or whatever… It's complicated. And I'm not really supposed to talk about it. So please, keep it between us.”
Tony set down his coffee cup, fighting not to fidget under his roommate's intense eyes.
He searched Steve's face for any hint of anxiety, of apprehension, but found nothing.
Steve wasn't worried; he trusted Tony to keep his secret.
The raven nodded slowly. “Of course.” He replied, hoping his sincerity showed.
Steve let out a relieved chuckle, looking down and finally breaking the excruciating eye contact.
“Thank you.” It was so quiet, Tony almost didn't hear it.
This reminded the raven of something he'd noticed early on about Steve, something that made the soldier vulnerable in a way he wasn't even aware of.
“You don't have to thank people for respecting you.” The words came out a bit darker than Tony had meant, and Steve looked up again, frowning.
“How do you mean?” The blond asked, his eyes scrutinizing Tony, searching his face for what, Tony couldn't say.
The raven sighed. “There’s a certain level of respect that has to be demanded out of any kind of relationship. A respect for people's needs, and the decisions they make about their lives, their boundaries. A mutual understanding that everyone you interact with is their own individual person, that everyone deserves to be treated like a person. Deserves to be respected to some extent. Deserves to have their needs and their wants honored. And in order for that to work, every person has to acknowledge that they deserve to be treated like a person, to be respected, to have their needs and wants honored. And you have to demand that honor and respect, because not everyone is well-functioning enough to offer it on their own.”
Steve looked thoughtful, his brow tightly knit. Then he cracked a smile. “Aw, Tony that's beautiful.”
Tony felt an inexplicable anger bubble in his chest. “I’m dead serious. It's a necessity of human relation.”
“You're really going to talk to me about respect? You?” Steve's voice was incredulous, some of their humor dissipated.
Tony stood straight from where he was leaning on the counter, his chest growing hot with anger. “Hey, I'm talking about respecting people's boundaries. No means no, that type of thing. Listening to signals and complying.”
Steve stood straight too. “That seems much more specific than your little soliloquy suggested.” His face was darkening as well. “And I have perfectly good boundaries and respect for myself.” He tacked on defensively.
Tony actually snorted. “If that were true, you wouldn't let some guy waltz in here, day one, take your bed, objectify you, and pry into your private matters.”
The raven could see the muscles in Steve's jaw tensing.
This only urged him on, as the anger grew white hot in his core.
“You wouldn't be letting me run around with my big mouth, telling you who you are and what I think you think. Nor would you let me crawl into your bed at three in the morning when you're dead tired and keep you up.”
“Tony,” there was a warning tone in Steve's voice, and he took a small step toward him.
This further encouraged the billionaire.
“You wouldn't be standing here right now and letting me tell you about respect, when you know it's bogus.” He antagonized.
Steve clenched his fists, his eyes dark. “Okay, drop it.” He said harshly, and began to turn to leave.
“There you go again, rolling over. Being the bigger man or whatever.” Tony could see Steve's shoulders tense from behind as he stopped. “I get the pick your battles ideal man, but you eventually do have to pick some.”
“Stark, I'm warning you. Drop it.” He didn't turn to face the raven, and Tony could see his shoulders rising and falling rapidly.
“C'mon! Do something! Yell, hit me, something!” Tony taunted. “Prove to me you know how to stand up for yourself, Rogers.”
Tony was immediately regretful as the blond whirled around and viciously grabbed his shirt collar, actually lifting the raven off his feet against the counter.
Steve's face was dangerously calm, only a slight frown and his heavy breathing revealing how angry he was.
The two boys stared at each other a moment, both breathing raggedly, Steve's jaw muscles tightening and relaxing, Tony's heartbeat thudding in his ears.
“I said, drop it.” Steve hissed through gritted teeth.
Tony swallowed, the back of his neck becoming sore where his collar pressed into it. He tried for a cocky smirk, still trying to coax Steve into something more drastic. “That all you got?”
Steve hesitated, his eyes narrowing. He seemed to piece together what Tony was doing, and his glare morphed into a look of deep irritation. He dropped the raven back onto his feet, and Tony felt relief flood through him despite himself.
But Steve was still looming over him, and the smaller student had to resist the urge to cower or rub his neck, trying his best to look as cool and unaffected as ever.
The blonds gaze fell slightly, and Tony became conscious of the light material of his shirt, looking away.
When he looked back up to meet Steve's eyes, there was a strange expression there. Like the flick of a switch, the anger was gone, replaced with something Tony couldn't quite name.
It was a tired look, that was certain, but not ‘I-haven't-slept-in-48-hours’ tired, more like the permanent, deep set exhaustion of someone who's been around way too long, seen way too much.
Tony looked down. He almost wanted to apologize. He'd just wanted to push his buttons, rile him up, see how far he could go before Steve snapped.
Steve shook his head, taking a step back and pinching the bridge of his nose. “God you look like Howard when you're pensive.” He muttered, almost too quietly for Tony to hear.
But he did hear, and he felt the type of anger reserved for the mention of his father's name stir in his stomach. “What did you just say?” He asked, his level tone surprising even him.
Steve looked up at him, alarm crossing his face. “Nothing.” He glanced at his phone. “I have to get ready for work.” He ducked out of the kitchenette quickly.
Tony wasn't going to let that go though, and followed briskly. “No, Rogers, the fuck did you just say?”
“Good God, and you're just as stubborn!” Steve whirled on him in the living area. “There’s the big secret; I knew Howard Stark! And I would never have imagined he could spawn someone like you.” He sounded exasperated, and Tony felt white heat in the pit of his stomach.
“‘Someone like me’? And just what is that supposed to mean?” He asked icily.
“An arrogant, self absorbed, teasing, meddling, spoiled brat! With an ego big enough to land a Grumman F3F on! Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to work.” He turned on his heel and stormed out, leaving Tony gaping in his wake.