Chapter 9
Tony did not plan on having another drink. He had said the first thing that popped into his head to allow him to remove himself from the situation, fearing he may otherwise do something he would later regret.
Maybe he did need another drink. He heard the disappointed sigh as the sliding glass door slid shut behind him, but couldn’t think of it.
He paced, as if with a destination, through the house. Eventually, he did find himself back in the kitchen. He was considering the array of drinks before him, when a hand landed on his forearm; he was surprised to see Steve - how long had he been wandering around the house? - and surprised wasn’t the only thing he felt.
Were his eyes always that blue? Damn he was beautiful… Tony’s eyes wandered to his lips and… Oh God Steve was talking to him.
“So I’ll, uh, see you later.” Steve finished, and he turned to leave.
Tony stood there, blinking uncertainly as he walked out the kitchen door. He hadn’t been this drunk in a while, and that ass was mesmerizing…
Wait, had Steve said he was leaving?
“Wait!” Tony called, though by that point it was much too late. He forced his heavy feet to fall, one in front of the other, as he made to follow his roommate.
When he breached the front door, he looked around and spotted his friend about thirty paces ahead. “Wait!” He repeated, and Steve stopped, looking over his shoulder. Tony rushed to catch up to him. “Heading home... so early?” Tony panted as he tried to play off the effort it had cost him to race down the way.
Steve scoffed. “It’s…” He pulled out his cell phone. “Almost midnight.”
This was a little shocking to Tony, and it must have shown on his face because Steve cracked a smile.
“C’mon.” He put his arm around Tony, and that heat he’d been running from came rushing back.
The raven skillfully spun out of the embrace, instead taking Steve’s hand in his. That he could handle. Probably.
Steve raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question it as the two walked through the cold night. Warmth emanated from the larger form, and Tony subconsciously leaned in.
Then a thought crossed his mind, and he looked up at the blond. “So, how’d I do?”
Steve’s brow furrowed - that was so cute - and he looked at his roommate searchingly. “I’m sorry,” He said after a moment. “What do you mean by that?”
Tony scoffed in feigned indignation even as he suppressed a laugh. “You said before we left that I had better treat you right.” He released Steve’s hand and turned his palms up expectantly. “How’d I do?”
Steve seemed to think for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright I guess.”
Tony drew a hand to his chest, as if wounded. “‘Alright’? I’ve never been so insulted.”
Then Steve laughed, and Tony worried the sound might melt his very core. “I’m obviously kidding.” He put his hand over Tony’s shoulders again, and this time he didn’t resist. “You did pretty great.”
Tony let out a satisfied sound. “I knew even you couldn’t resist my charms forever.” He opened his arms dramatically. “I’m just freaking awesome.”
Steve laughed as well - a real, hearty laugh - and Tony put his arm around his waist, rejoicing in his warmth against the cold night.
As they walked in relative silence, Tony noticed it began to snow. Slowly at first, then more insistently drawn in by the biting wind, serene white specs became visible, floating silently on the breeze and settling around the bases of trees and other accouterments decorating the campus.
The two eventually reached their dorm and made their way inside. Tony started for the bathroom, but hesitated at the door, feeling Steve watching him.
He turned around to see the blond, slightly disheveled, with a few snowflakes caught in his perfect blond hair.
Before he knew what he was doing - much like what had happened at the beer pong table earlier that night - Tony found himself walking towards him.
Steve’s expression was odd - open, kind, almost affectionate - and damn if it didn’t make him that much more attractive. The blond shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t back away, as Tony walked right up to him, running a hand down the lapel of his jacket.
Far from moving, Steve placed a cool hand on Tony’s shoulder.
That was all he could take. Tony grabbed the taller man's lapels and pulled him down into a kiss. Steve immediately wrapped his hands around Tony’s waist, and the billionaire felt the same heat he had been repressing all night come rushing back - but now, he didn’t fight it.
Instead, he lifted both of his hands from Steve’s lapels to wrap around his neck, and felt Steve pull him closer, nearly lifting him off of the ground.
After a few moments, the little voice in Tony’s head got the better of him, and he pulled back.
When he met Steve’s eyes, the blond was looking at him curiously. A beat of silence passed between them, before Steve cocked his head.
Slowly but deliberately, the blond moved a hand from Tony’s waist and gingerly placed it on his chest. Tony got chills as he became acutely aware of the cold metal of the reactor under his roommate’s strong palm.
Steve’s eyes were fixed on the center of Tony’s chest, where the inventor had to wonder if the faint blue glow was visible through his suit. Steve drew his other hand up to begin unfastening the buttons on the billionaire’s blazer.
When all it’s buttons were undone, Tony quickly drew both hands from the back of his roommate’s neck to still the blond’s. Steve tried to meet his eyes, but Tony was pointedly looking at the both of their hands.
God, compared to Steve’s, Tony couldn’t help but think his hands looked so small.
He looked so small.
And in that moment, he felt overwhelmingly small.
The two stood there for an agonizing minute, uncertainty in the air as neither said a word for what felt like an eternity.
Then the doorknob began to shake, and Tony quickly drew back from his roommate, an unprecedented cacophony of emotions suddenly clamoring for his attention as he turned his back on the soldier.
He heard the girls come in, and tried to gather his thoughts. When he turned around, Steve was still looking at him with that curious tilt of his head. They only shared a brief moment of eye contact before Steve looked up to greet the girls now entering the living area of the dorm, all traces of whatever had been shared between them dissipating.
Tony gave a smile and quick nod to their other roommates before making a beeline for the restroom.
Once inside, he leaned his back against the door and closed his eyes. The room was shifting slightly - much too familiar a feeling to the student - and his state of inebriation made it significantly more difficult to gather his increasingly scattered thoughts.
He ran the water, if only to have some pretense to his quick exit, and carefully took inventory of the night. Admittedly, he had been expecting some action from Steve tonight. The alcohol, the long walk back to the dorm, and whatever time they shared before the return of their other roommates had almost seemed to guarantee it.
However, he hadn’t expected that cute little furrow in Steve’s brow, or the way it would make him feel. He hadn’t expected to hold Steve’s hand, or for that to make him feel warm inside. He hadn’t expected the careful certainty with which Steve had made to remove his shirt, or the implications that it harbored. Mostly, he simply hadn’t expected anyone could make him feel quite the way Steve had.
And that, he knew, was a dangerous game. In fact, his own feelings had been the one factor he hadn’t considered in the slightest. It had crossed his mind a few times recently the possible effects their little games could have on Steve; he had considered the blond could fall for him, catch feelings, whatever one might call it.
But Tony Stark was a playboy. He was a sexual machine, way too cool and detached to ‘catch feelings’.
Or, so he thought.
He knew that by spending too much time in here he would only invite further questions he was not yet prepared to answer, so he began to wash off his makeup - partly as an excuse, partly because the cold water from the faucet seemed to be helping him gather his wits.
When Tony emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, Steve flashed him a meaningful look which was not missed by ever-observant Natasha.
“You two get a chance to bang before we crashed your party?” She asked off-handedly.
Steve’s gaze snapped to her as his face began to flush. Over his sputtering, Tony gave a cocky laugh. “Why? You jealous?” When Natasha’s gaze was on him again, Tony looked at Steve and pointedly winked and bit his lip.
“You can’t- what kind of- that’s- you-” Steve scoffed sharply, turning a deeper shade of pink as he collected his thoughts.
Natasha nodded knowingly. “So no.” She pushed past Tony towards the bathroom.
Janet was looking in between them uncertainly, as Steve stared at the floor. When her eyes met Tony’s, she flushed slightly. “I know it’s like, none of my business, but for what it’s worth, I think you make a cute couple.”
Steve flushed still deeper, slowly closing his eyes. A beat of silence passed, before he spoke. “Thank you, Janet.” He smiled. He cast another look at Tony, one the raven wasn’t sure the meaning of, before making for their bedroom to collect his pajamas and get ready for bed.
Once all of them had removed their makeup and expensive clothing, the girls went straight to bed.
Steve was in the bathroom showering while Tony lay on his own bed, thinking.
The day had certainly given him plenty to think about. He placed a hand on the cool metal in his chest, feeling the mechanical whirring of the electromagnet, remembering the warmth of Steve’s palm over it. Through his white nightshirt, in the dark, the blue light it cast was significant.
He thought about the kiss they had shared. What had it meant? Was Steve still just playing their little game? If he was, Tony pondered, then it had meant nothing to him.
And if it had meant nothing to Steve, it needed to mean nothing to Tony too. But Steve wasn’t like him. He found it very difficult to believe it could mean nothing to him.
The blond was nothing if not sincere, and the slow certainty with which he had unbuttoned Tony’s jacket…
The raven got chills thinking about it, and tried to push that part of the night from his mind.
Instead he tried to think about what it would mean for them if their kiss meant something. Why did he feel this way about it? Tony got a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thought about real, pure, honest, sincere Steve falling for him.
With his stupid perfect jawline and his stubborn disposition and his ridiculous blue eyes and their dumb open look...Oh God…
The shower clicked off, and Steve came out groggily in his pajamas. Tony didn’t make a move as the blond slipped into bed, hopefully giving the impression that he was asleep.
So what could he do moving forward? How could he gently extricate himself from this situation?
As these thoughts drifted around in his head, Tony began to drift off.
The raven woke in the middle of the night, blearily, uncertain exactly what had brought him to.
He glanced over to see the sleeping masses of the girls still in their place, and could hear no sound in their dorm.
After listening for a few moments though, he realized there was some sort of sound coming from the bunk above him.
It was barely audible, the billionaire had no idea how it could have woken him up; there was a soft whining emanating from Steve’s bed.
Tony carefully sat up. “Steve?” He whispered.
No response.
He slowly stood, peering up over his roommate’s railing. “Steve?” He asked again, a little louder.
The blond’s back was to the outside of his bed, and his large shoulders were shaking slightly. It looked like he was… crying?
Tony stepped up onto his own bed so he could get a little closer. “Steve.”
The blond began muttering quietly, his breathing becoming more and more labored. Tony leaned in, his curiosity piqued as the muttering slowly became distinct. “Bucky…”
Tony frowned, wondering if he had heard right. Steve was breathing harder and harder, and then turned over suddenly and gripped the railing, his eyes half open but still glazed over with sleep, as Tony became aware of the tear tracks down his cheeks.
The raven placed a hand on his shoulder - which was taught with strain - and shook him gently. “Steve, wake up.” He muttered firmly.
The blond was shaking his head. He removed his hand from the rail, instead grabbing the one on his shoulder with impeccable force for a sleeping person, and began muttering again - the same thing over and over now, though it took Tony a moment to figure out what he was saying.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He muttered, squeezing Tony’s hand still tighter.
Tony gulped uncertainly, and then squeezed his hand back. “No it- it’s okay, hey- Steve, wake up. It’s fine, you’re fine, dude, just…” With one hand now in Steve’s vice-like grip, and the other holding him up from the bottom of the mattress frame, Tony was trapped. “Steve, c’mon, you’re…”
Steve’s grip loosened, and the tight furrow of his brow eased. His breathing evened out, and he slowly released. “I’m… so sorry, Buck…” He muttered one last time, before releasing Tony’s hand.
The raven watched him for a few more moments, before lowering himself back onto his own bunk.
His heart was racing from the encounter, and he felt somehow invasive. He wondered passively if his roommate had moments like that often, which had simply gone unnoticed up to this point.
He also wondered who Bucky was. His mind now much too active to return to sleep, Tony checked the time; it was nearly four anyway, so he might as well get a head start on the day.
Natasha was the first after him to stir, climbing out of bed around six with a grumble and making straight for the bathroom to shower.
A few minutes later, Tony heard the telltale creaking of boards that alerted him to Steve’s rising, and then heard the dorm door open and close from where he sat on the couch. His rude brain latched onto the thought of his roommate again, and the previous nights questions all came back to him.
He wondered again about the significance of their shared moment, and he was forced again to ponder what his next move should be.
He didn’t want to lead the blond on if he was developing real ‘feelings’ or anything like that. He was worried about what damage had already been done if attachment already existed.
And the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about it made Tony wonder who he was really afraid of catching feelings.
These thoughts ran in circles through his head as he stared at the blank notebook paper on which he was meant to be drafting a thesis statement.
Natasha came out of the shower and only now took note of him in the living area. She regarded him for a moment, and then went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
When it was finished, she poured two cups, black, and came to sit beside him on the couch, offering one to him.
“Thanks.” He muttered, accepting the bitter drink.
He cradled it in both of his hands, still somewhat lost in thought.
“I know it’s none of my business,” The redhead spoke up, eyes trained on her drink. “And I wouldn’t want you to get any crazy ideas like thinking that I care, but whatever you and Rogers have got going on…”
Tony leaned back into the couch, looking at her expectantly.
She seemed to consider her next words carefully, taking a slow, thoughtful sip from her coffee. “Just… Don’t undervalue it. Know where you stand, and talk that shit out like adults. Don’t let either of your pride keep you from communicating properly.”
Her tone was matter-of-fact, direct, but not devoid of sympathy.
Tony let a cheesy grin spread on his face. “Aw, Nat, I didn’t know you cared.”
She shot him a sharp look, before standing. “I don’t. Thought I made that clear.”
“Oh c- I was just kidding.” She started to walk away. “Seriously though, Natasha,” He made sure sincerity was evident in his tone, and she paused at the doorway. “Thank you.” He managed.
She gave a small nod, not looking back as she walked back into their shared bedroom.
Tony sighed heavily, leaning back into the couch. Know where you stand. The phrase echoed in his head.
He did know where he stood, right? The whole thing was like a game. He was pushing his buttons, he had wanted to see how Steve would react to all the shit he pulled. That was it, wasn’t it?
But last night… That hadn’t been a game. He had no play in mind when he kissed Steve, couldn’t even postulate what it meant for him or their relationship.
He hated that he’d just thought of it as a ‘relationship’ at all. They didn’t have a ‘relationship’, did they? And he didn’t care. Sure, it was fun, poking and prodding at his roommate’s psyche, learning what did and didn’t set him off. But it was nothing more than that.
He told himself that more resolutely. It was nothing more than fun and games.
What’s the point in ‘communicating properly’ over a few laughs and some screwing around?
Sure, Tony had considered the possibility that it would go further than a kiss that night, but even that meant little to him; he’d had meaningless sex all the time before the accident, why shouldn’t he be able to enjoy it now?
The thought of sex with Steve was one he’d tried not to linger too long on - the blond was a living anachronism, it seemed highly unlikely his life in the forties had given him a ton of experience in that field.
That, and Steve’s overall disposition didn’t make him seem much like the type to jump into a sexual relationship without an extensive amount of that ‘communication’ which, the more he thought about it, the more he abhorred the idea of actually engaging in.
It would remove all pretense, all doubt that what they had going on was becoming something more serious - and Tony had all but sworn off serious relationships.
He was determined to remain unattached in such a way and, as such, decided resolutely that he would avoid having that conversation for as long as he could.
When the blond returned, both Natasha and Janet had left. Tony couldn’t help but think how convenient that was.
Tony felt eyes on him, and looked up to see Steve standing in the doorway. The morning’s waking suddenly came back to him, and the raven cocked his head. “Who’s Bucky?” he asked innocently.
Alarm flashed across the blond’s face. “What?”
Tony stood, making his way towards his roommate and leaning casually against the wall in front of him. It appeared he had just gone for a run; his shirt was damp in places and sweat glistened on all exposed skin. Tony tried not to think too much about that. “You were talking in your sleep last night. Well, you were crying in your sleep last night and…”
Steve had dropped his gaze, and seemed to have become particularly interested in his shoes. “Bucky was…” He shook his head, a faint, sad smile on his lips. He looked to be searching for the words, but then it dawned on Tony.
“That was the person you lost, huh? The one who was… Everything?”
Steve nodded slightly, still not looking up. His gaze was far away, as if remembering the past. “I’m, uh… I’m sorry if- if I woke you.”
Tony waved him off. “I don’t sleep anyway, you know that.” He teased.
Steve wrung his hands, and the silence was too much for Tony.
“Now, if you wanted to make it up to me,” He pondered, tracing with one finger the length of his roommate’s strong arm. He drew up to full height, reaching his mouth near Steve’s ear and just breathing the words, “I can think of one or two ways we could work it out.”
Steve looked up at him now, his expression hard to read. He looked like he was about to say something, when his gaze dropped once more to Tony’s chest. He took one finger in due turn and traced the outline of the mechanics.
Tony swallowed, fighting the urge to pull away and instead once more placing a hand on Steve’s, stilling it.
He again didn’t meet the blond’s eyes as he looked up at him.
“I’d better take a shower.” Steve said softly after a moment. “I’m, uh, pretty gross.”
He pushed past Tony, but the raven held onto his hand, some great force within him reluctant to lose the contact.
Steve stopped at arms length, looking back at him. A moment of sincerity passed between them, before Tony quickly played it off by raising an eyebrow suggestively. “Want some company?”
Steve rolled his eyes, letting go of Tony’s hand and making for the bathroom.
This was going to be a very long year.
When the door had shut behind the blond, Tony drew a palm to his forehead. What was he doing? Why had he held on like that? What was this feeling he was getting in his chest now, white hot and freezing at the same time?
All his comments, the posturing, the play-fighting, the blatant admiring of Steve’s body - and admittedly, Steve did have a pretty nice body - it was all a game to him. Right?
He never meant it. He didn’t even know how a normal relationship was supposed to work; he had never understood all the touchy-feely ‘other half’ nonsense people liked to carry on about, and still now he had no affinity for the idea of that kind of relationship.
Tony was a genius, and that genius meant that he spent too much time in his own head to ever have that type of relationship. He had friends, sure, but ones he kept at a distance. He didn’t divulge his checkered thoughts because they weren’t good.
That was what this came down to, he realized; he wasn’t good for people. His innate wiring wasn’t one that valued relationships in a way that fostered healthy romance. Hell, he even drove himself crazy with all the overthinking he did, he didn’t want to imagine the kind of toll exploring his psyche would have on anyone else.
And Steve was good. He was innately good, to himself, to the people around him. He would pour all of that affection and sincerity into a relationship, and the person he was with would just prosper, Tony was sure of it.
But not him. His dark thoughts would just errode that goodness. He would eat away at all that pure light that was there, until eventually Steve would give up and leave too. Or he wouldn’t - and that was worse.
No, the more he thought about it, the less possible the idea of them having a relationship seemed. Not that he had wanted that anyway. Tony was perfectly content in his solitude, with his friends at a distance and casual sex affairs keeping him occupied.
He couldn’t subject Steve to his personal darkness. It was inevitable that any person Tony had a relationship with would come in contact - eventually - with that side of himself that the billionaire kept shoved down tightly. The part that thought horrible things and pessimistically criticized everything.
The part of himself that thought he was better than everyone because he was smarter. And he was smart - he was a genius - which made it that much harder to fight the self-righteous little voice that was always criticizing those around him.
And he knew that wasn’t fair - every person had something different to contribute to the world, and he wasn’t better than anyone else for being born naturally adept and privileged.
That same selfish part of him, however, was so drawn to Steve. The supersoldier was, by natural capacity, everything he wasn’t: he was honest and generous, sincere and thoughtful, and most of all, humble.
Steve could get away with being cocky and self righteous - hell, he deserved to be a little self righteous - but he wasn’t. No one would question him if he were to brag, or even tell Tony to fuck off every now and then, but he didn’t.
He genuinely didn’t think of himself as being any better than anyone else. That alone was a clear indicator that they simply would never work out. Why was he even thinking about this? Steve hadn’t wanted to talk about the night before or anything, so as far as Tony was concerned, he was still in the clear.
He would just keep playing this game and, if Steve decided to ruin it with talking, he would simply let it go.