Chapter 11
Tony swallowed. What did he want? “I- I don’t- I- It-” He wanted Steve to be happy, was his first thought. He wanted to be with Steve, his second. His third, considering, he wanted to be happy with Steve. “It’s… Complicated.” He settled on.
Steve was watching him closely, as if unsure of his next move.
Tony had not expected this conversation to take the turn it had. He’d thought he was prepared, but now racked his brain for what would be the best thing to say.
Steve steepled his fingers over his mouth, looking away from Tony to the ceiling. “Okay.” He said after a moment.
Tony’s immediate reaction was defensive, and he regarded Steve warily.
“Okay, well, if you need to… Figure it out, do- just- take your time, doing… Whatever you need to do.” Steve moved still closer to Tony, so that he was looking up at him. “And a friend of mine told me lately… ‘If it feels right, there are probably feelings worth exploring’, or something along those lines…”
Tony looked up at Steve, and in that moment, he just went for what felt right; he wrapped his arms around his roommate and buried his face in the crook of his neck.
Steve tensed at first, but was quick to deliver that perfect kind of hug only few strong people can manage.
And Tony just collapsed into it. His stress over Steve seemed conquered, as the blond held him affectionately.
After what could have been minutes, Tony finally eased himself out of the embrace. “I’m going to go… Collect my thoughts. Alone.” He took a step back and gave Steve a small smile.
“Good, I- good luck.” Steve gave a small awkward smile, but still wore that weird thinking face he seemed to don more and more frequently; Tony just quickly ducked out of the living area, past Janet in the bedroom, and out of the dorm.
Once he had cleared the building, Tony stepped out into the cold evening air and remembered suddenly the snow. He smiled to himself as he pulled his coat tighter and walked off into the brisk breeze.
It was snowing faintly as he walked, and Tony remarked how dissimilar the feeling was to his internal feelings at the moment.
The snow muted noise, so almost no sound disrupted the eerie feeling of isolation; the layer of snow also gave the dazzling illusion of emptiness.
What do you want? Steve’s question swirled around in his head, stirring his thoughts into chaos. What did he want?
Know where you stand. Natasha’s advice had been to figure out ahead of time essentially the same thing. But it was reliant on solely his own judgment, which made it very difficult for him to be unbiased about.
He reached the edge of the campus pathway and hesitated. He hadn’t had much chance to explore around the outside of the school - he mostly stayed inside to work on his projects, when he wasn’t pestering Steve - so he decided to go for it.
And he realized, he couldn’t be unbiased because it needed to be about his bias. What did he want? What do I want?
Tony shook his head, scanning the storefronts of the metropolitan street he’d come out onto; an old-timey looking diner passingly caught his attention, but he walked past it - he was trying to think about not Steve right now.
Instead, he spotted a pawn shop and decided to go scavenging for parts.
When he walked in, the first thing he noticed was how well-lit and spacious it seemed - although, admittedly, Tony didn’t make a habit of shopping at pawn shops.
The next thing he noticed was how clean it was; he saw no dust collecting or visible neglect of objects or repairs.
The third and most lasting thing he noticed, as he paced into the stores and looked around, was the clerk; a medium sized, stout man with dark curly hair, and thick glasses peered over a newspaper at him.
He set the paper down when Tony made eye contact and smiled. “Anything I can help you find?” He asked politely.
Tony almost assured him he was fine, but hesitated. “Got any old cell phone or computer parts?” He pulled off his aviators as he spoke, placing them gently atop his head.
The man nodded, stepping out from behind the counter. “We’ve got a couple different electronics sections - monitors and screens; radio and transmitter hardware; keyboards; actual CPUs - feel free to pick your poison.” His voice was soft, and cheerful enough to be pleasant.
“Let me have a look at transmitter hardware.”
The clerk gestured for Tony to follow, leading him towards the back of the store where a large shelf sported an array of old radios and walkie-talkies, parts of old computers, fax machines, and cell phones.
The two talked for a while, and Tony pleasantly allowed Steve to slip from his mind as he conversed about different types of projects and shared experiences. Tony learned the clerk’s name was Bruce Banner, and he was in the fourth and final year of the college’s nuclear physics program and worked the shop part time outside of that.
He also found out that Bruce had recognized him the moment he walked in.
“You know, I’m always hearing about you and you’re like… One of the real geniuses, Mr. Stark.”
Tony flashed a dazzling grin. “I am pretty well-reputed, but uh…” He felt the smile fade, before shaking his head to clear those thoughts. “You’re pretty well-spoken yourself; next time I need help on a project, I’ll know who to come to.”
Bruce smiled brightly, holding out a hand. “You had better make that a promise, Mr. Stark.”
Tony shook it heartily. “Of course. And, uh, Banner?”
He nodded expectantly.
He flashed him a bright smile. “Call me Tony.”
Banner smiled wider, eyes gleaming. “You got it, Boss.”
Tony paid for the sparse parts he’d selected, and ducked out, waving a final goodbye to soon-to-be-doctor Bruce Banner.
Once outside, Tony had the keen inkling that he was being watched. He removed his sunglasses from atop his head and placed them gently back on the bridge of his nose while making a quick, discreet scan of the area.
There was a diner employee on a smoke break across the street; a family exiting a quaint little bookstore; and two teenagers, vaping and walking down the sidewalk. No one particularly out of place.
Tony turned forward the direction he had been headed and continued on his way.
The billionaire walked curiously into the book shop at the end of the street, paying attention to his surroundings.
It seemed odd to Tony that, in a town so highly populous, many business owners practiced impeccable hospitality.
He always wondered, when people were immediately pleasant to him, if they recognized him.
True to their neighbors' form, a friendly attendant waved cheerily at Tony from behind the checkout counter. "Can I help you find anything?" The kindly man asked.
Tony again moved his sunglasses to the top of his head. "No, thank you, I'm just browsing." He moved deeper into the recesses of the store, searching for a vantage point from which he could watch the door.
Before he found such space, he heard the little bell over the door, and heard the attendant cheerily greet someone else.
Trying not to look like he was skulking, Tony slunk around the corner of the shelves to get a look at the person who had come in.
The angle he came out at only presented him with the back view of a woman; she had long blonde hair and wore an apron.
She began to turn around, and Tony quickly ducked back behind the shelf and prayed she hadn't seen him.
He heard the clicking of platforms on the hardwood, and picked up the nearest novel, pretending to assess it.
The woman came into the same aisle as Tony and halted at the end. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see that she wore large sunglasses, and the visor advertising her employment pulled down low over her face.
She walked up right beside him, glancing at the novel he was 'reading'. "Interesting choice." She commented casually.
Tony glanced at the cover to see it was some World War Two biography. "Oh yeah, y'know I love…" He scanned the book for more information regarding its contents. "Corrie Ten Boom."
A beat passed between them. This, he realized, was the diner girl who had been on a smoke break.
Had she followed him?
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Tony asked blatantly.
She peeked at him over her sunglasses, and her eyes were vaguely familiar. "I don't know, Mr. Stark, do you?" Her tone was somewhere between imploring and rhetorical. She replaced her sunglasses to their rightful place. "No, I don't suppose you do. Probably better that way."
Something about the eerie casual tone she kept made him nervous.
"Better for what?" He crossed his arms over the book he was holding.
She looked at him through those ridiculous sunglasses, and a small smile appeared on her face. "We're in no rush with you, Mr. Stark, so information will be divulged as it becomes relevant. But know that we know you and we know… What you know." She glanced down at his book again. "Corrie Ten Boom was an inspiration. You should really check that story out." And with that, she turned and left.
Tony suppressed a shudder. He considered the book in his hands, skimming the summary on the back.
He decided to go ahead and buy it.
As he was nearing the dorm building again, his thoughts were still enveloped in that mysterious woman. He was certain he'd met her somewhere before today. But where?
He was racking his brain trying to place the familiar gaze when he reentered the dorm.
Then he saw Steve, sitting on his bed, reading. We know… What you know.
Could she have been talking about Steve?
The super soldier looked up at his roommate curiously.
The gears were turning in Tony's head. Steve was in 'sort of witness protection'; there was bound to be some government intervention eventually.
Steve cocked his head. "You okay?" He asked after a moment.
Tony nodded, pursing his lips. He did a quick sweep of the dorm to make certain they were alone before clambering up onto Steves bed beside him. "You don't have like a… Like a personal liaison who works for this… 'sort of like witness protection' mysterious government agency that owns Captain America, do you?"
Steve looked at him blankly for a moment, then his eyebrows drew together into that worried furrow. "No," he said slowly. "Why- why would you ask that?"
Tony shrugged, thinking out his options. "Just curious I guess…"
Steve narrowed his eyes. "Did something happen?"
Quick on his feet, Tony shook his head. "No, but I promised I would figure you out; this is a part of that process."
Steve didn't look convinced, but returned his eyes to his book nonetheless.
Tony watched him for a moment, pondering everything they had experienced together. He was overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude at what they had shared so far.
As he watched, Steve looked up to meet his eyes again, and frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked, almost defensively.
Tony shook his head. "Just thinking." He answered honestly.
Steve cocked his head, seeming to consider for a moment before he placed the bookmark on the open page and closed the book, setting it aside.
He then adjusted so he was facing Tony, his eyes boring into the engineer. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again: open book. Ask away."
Tony couldn't help a small, amused smile. He shook his head. "We are way past the question-asking part."
Steve raised an eyebrow, and his eyes briefly darted to Tony's chest. He looked like he was considering his next words carefully, but Tony wouldn't give him time to form that question.
Not yet.
So before the blond could speak, he raised himself up onto his hands and knees and crawled towards him, Steve leaning back to keep their faces from colliding. "In fact, I would wager we're entirely past the talking part." He planted his knees on either side of his roommate's hips, effectively sitting in his lap.
Steve swallowed visibly, and gave him an odd look - like he was conflicted.
Determined to remove all thoughts of talking from the larger man's head, Tony gently cupped his jaw with his hands.
Steve was looking up at him, his blue eyes wide and uncertain. God, he was even cute from this angle.
Tony ghosted his lips over his friend's neck. "Besides," he whispered. "Acting is… so much more fun." To test the waters, he let his teeth graze Steves muscular neck.
A small sound escaped the blond, and when Tony pulled his head back, Steve had a challenging look in his eyes.
Bingo.
Steve wrapped an arm around Tonys back and, using the other for support, laid the raven facing up on the bed.
He planted his knees on either side of the billionaire's hips, and Tony couldn't help but shudder at the calm surety with which he moved.
Steve ran both hands down the raven's arms, and then slowly but deliberately took his wrists in his hands and pulled them up above his head.
Tony smirked up at him. "I didn't know you could be such a top." He muttered antagonistically.
Steve ran his hands back down the length of Tonys arms, landing on his shoulders. He gave a knowing smile. "Guess you haven't done too great of a job at figuring me out then, have you?"
Tony tried to lift his shoulders but found Steves weight holding him down. The billionaire placed his now free hands on Steves chest, running them down the broad expanse. He could feel the measured strength in the muscles, and his slightly heavy breathing.
Steve now moved his hands from Tony’s shoulders down towards his chest, and the raven immediately crossed his wrists defensively over the reactor.
Steve looked at him imploringly, and Tony glanced away. Not yet.
He wasn’t sure exactly what he was waiting for, but he knew he wasn’t ready to explain the magnet. He wasn’t ready to relive what had happened.
Steve watched him closely for a moment, then seemed to get the message; he moved his hands to Tony’s sides and ran them down that way instead. Then he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s forehead.
He felt an odd kind of warmth spread through him at the gesture, and then the blond extricated himself and sat back against the wall once more.
Tony hesitated, then sat up beside him. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, both deep in thought and catching their breath.
“I can’t pretend to know… What kind of thoughts are really running through your head,” Steve began at length, eyes on his hands as they fidgeted in his lap. “I can’t presume to understand why… Why anyone else makes the choices they do, but…”
Tony’s mind raced for a way to divert this conversation. He did not have the capacity for that kind of sincerity right now. “I would think my reasoning would be pretty obvious.” He cocked his head, still looking forward. “I mean, who could resist good old fashioned American pie?”
Steve let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”
Tony chewed his lip thoughtfully.
“And it’s really not that obvious - every time I think I’m figuring you out, every time I start to feel like I can predict your next move, you go and…” He scoffed, his voice resuming that tired edge Tony was growing so familiar with. “You’re not… predictable.”
“I prefer exciting.” Tony said lightly. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when Tony Stark becomes boring and predictable.”
Steve laughed, leaning his head back against the wall.
Tony wanted to shrink away from that earnest sound, and the way it made him so inexplicably happy he felt he would do anything to hear it again. “And on the subject of predictability,” He added on, pointing an accusatory finger at his roommate. “You said ‘shit’ today. How’s that for unpredictable?”
Steve looked at him, cracking a smile.
“The man who most disapproves of swearing ever, said shit and poo. In the same argument even - it’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Tony teased, watching as Steve started laughing and shook his head.
The blond pushed him. “Shut up.” He returned.
When Tony regained his upright position, their eyes met, and a moment passed between them. Steve’s amused smile melted into something more sincere, and he looked like he was about to say something really profound when the doorknob turned and the door swung open, admitting Natasha.
Tony thanked whatever cosmic forces might be out there that she hadn’t walked in a few minutes earlier.
That could have been awkward.
The redhead looked at them passively, giving a small nod, before moving to the kitchen.
When Tony looked back at Steve, the moment was clearly over. He looked far away, lost in thought; his eyebrows were drawn close and low, as though he were considering something of severe importance.
Then, noncommittally, he pulled his book back out and reopened it.
Tony watched him for a moment longer, before climbing down. He grabbed his project phone, and the new transmitter software he’d picked up, and returned to Steve’s side.
The two sat there in relative silence while Natasha did her thing in the kitchen.