So there's this song. And it's called 'At the Library.' As you may have guessed, this fic is inspired by it (it's a really old school Green Day song and it's absolutely adorable so you should totally listen to it too). I'm also kind of secretly a sucker for high school AUs, but since I wrote this I guess it's not really a secret anymore.
So anyway, I hope you guys like it. Credit to Green Day for giving me the inspiration for this one, but also credit to my wonderful readers for giving me the motivation.
Hey there lookin' at me
Tell me what do you see
But you quickly turn your head away
Ugh, the library.
Well, it's not that he really hated the library or judged it and the sort of antisocial nerds that hung out there daily (okay, that was a little judgmental, but whatever). It's just that he was Tony Stark, a mechanical genius far more intelligent and capable than others his age, and he just didn't really need to study. And if he did, it was at home in his workshop with one of his textbooks spattered with engine grease, and not at the freaking library where he was being constantly gawked at by aforementioned nerds. Obviously, he knew that those people were probably just jealous or wanted to spend a day in the life of Tony Stark, either because he was a) a genius, b) rich, or c) hot, but it was still annoying. The musty old book smell didn't help, either. It was uncomfortable and made his nose itch, and was only another checkmark on the long list of why he really, really didn't care for the library.
But he was nearly failing English, stupid, easy English, and his grade was threatening to plummet even further if he didn't do something. It's not that he didn't like the subject; he just didn't care, but he wanted to pass the class, so here he was. At the library.
Ugh.
With a stifled sigh, Tony entered the school's library and made a beeline towards the shelf he was looking for. Better to remain unseen, he thought, and get this over with. He grabbed a copy of Shakespeare's Macbeth from the shelf and spotted an empty table towards the back, quickly walking over to claim it before anyone else did. He pulled his notes out of his bag, leaned back in one of the creaky chairs, and cracked open the book to the page he thought they'd left off on in class.
Usually, Tony was very focused. Once he put his mind on something, it stayed there, churning away at the project until it was finished, and even longer until it was completely perfected.
Not this time.
It wasn't very long until his eyes drifted from the yellowing pages, scanning across the room and resting anywhere that wasn't the book in his hands. He stared at the faded carpet, the ancient bookshelves that seemed to stretch on endlessly, even at the rafters on the ceiling and the cracks and pencil marks across his table. Anything seemed more fascinating than Shakespeare at this point, and he doubted it'd be very long until he gave up completely. God, he was bored. And when he was bored, he became oddly alert of everything that wasn't what he was supposed to be doing. Boredom, for Tony at least, was both a blessing and a curse.
And it was that eerie attentiveness that led him to notice a pair of eyes peering at him from somewhere nearby. He could feel the gaze burning on the side of his face, recognizing the intensity as someone else who was probably also distracted from their studies. Discreetly, he turned his head to the left, searching for his probable admirer from the corner of his eye.
It was only a matter of seconds until he spotted the culprit, sitting only a few tables away. To Tony's surprise, he didn't find quite what he had expected (he didn't know what he expected, really) but, actually, the surprise was quite… pleasant.
He recognized the kid from his Physics class. The mop of tousled brown curls atop his head and the soft amber eyes that peered over his glasses were pretty hard to miss, and Tony remembered that the boy sat a couple seats down from him in class. But for the life of him, he couldn't recall the name. Bradley, Bennett, Bono… Banner. That was it. Bruce Banner.
Well, whatever or whoever the kid was, he was cute. Cute enough that Tony didn't really mind being stared at, and actually found himself staring back. He quirked an eyebrow and felt a familiar smirk pulling at his lips, but it faded as soon as the other boy hastily turned his head away and shoved his nose back in a book.
Well, it was nice while it lasted. Tony sighed through his nose and turned back to his assignment. As he forcefully trained his eyes on the pages, he couldn't help but let his mind wander elsewhere to those few tables away, scouring his brain for anything he may have known about the seemingly shy student that sat behind them, but came up blank. Tony didn't pay attention to many people, and usually that was because he couldn't find half a damn to give, but this particular boy seemed so… intriguing. Maybe you should just go talk to him, he thought, but just the mere idea twisted his stomach into a knot in worry that he wouldn't be able to find the right words. Who are you kidding? You know exactly how to deal with this stuff. He stopped to consider, and quickly realized that, yeah, he was probably right. Tony Stark was ever the suave playboy-to-be, and if anything, it was always the other who didn't know what to say.
However, when he had finally mustered up the courage to get up and say something, Tony looked up only to find that the other boy was gone.
Well, damn. That chance was blown. Tony shrugged and gathered his things, mentally kicking himself for acting so dumbfounded and silly when he could have easily treated this like any other similar situation. He figured there was no use in staying any longer since he couldn't seem to concentrate, and he tried to convince himself that it was the general atmosphere of the library and not the image of that boy (Bruce. Bruce. The kid's name was Bruce) nagging at his mind. There was always the next day to come back, or maybe even a few after that.
There's something I never thought I would say.
# #
Hours later, after Tony had gotten home, eaten supper, and finished his homework (or at least the portion of it that didn't involve Macbeth), he found himself sitting in his workshop, poring over some project he'd started days ago. It was a mess of metal and wires and blueprints spread on the table before him, and on any other day, he would have known exactly what he was doing. He would have known what went where and what was connected to what, and voila, he'd be finished, and his ego stroked.
On any other day, he wouldn't have allowed himself to be so distracted.
He didn't see why this time was any different. There'd been plenty of occasions when Tony had spotted someone he thought was good-looking, and an even larger number of times when he'd caught people staring at him. It wasn't a big deal, or at least it shouldn't have been. What Tony did know, though, was that this whole 'unrequited' thing was pretty damn frustrating.
After some time of sitting at his work bench, the young genius decided to just give it up and go take a shower or something. His hands were covered in grease anyways, and maybe the hot water and steam would help to clear his mind.
Tony made his way upstairs to the bathroom, making quick work of turning on the water and stripping off his clothes once he'd shut the door. When he stepped inside the shower, he took a moment to lean back against the wall and let the scorching water run over his face and down his bare body, washing away the day's frustrations. Or at least most of said frustrations, but here, the one that continued nagging at his brain seemed like less of a problem and more of a pleasure.
It seemed like a lot of a pleasure, actually, and Tony was well aware that the warmth he felt growing in his groin wasn't just from the water.
"Shit," he muttered, leaning the back of his head against the wall. This was wrong. It was so wrong. For Christ's sake, Tony didn't even know the kid, but – but, he was a teenage guy, right? This stuff was normal. It's not like he hadn't done it before, anyway, and even if having such feelings over somebody he'd barely even met wasn't completely ordinary, the throbbing in his crotch was getting pretty hard to ignore.
Finally, Tony decided to just give in and allow himself the indulgence. Still with his back pressed against the cool wall of the shower, he reached a hand forward and began to stroke himself, gently at first, but with a quickening pace as the waves of pleasure rocked through him. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his lip, letting his imagination romp and replace the hand stroking and tugging at his arousal with another, one of those slender hands that so fluidly handled that book in the corner of the library that day…
Tony didn't last very long before he found his release, using his free hand to muffle the string of whines and profanities spilling from his mouth. By the end of it, he was completely shameless, and damn, did it feel good. He gave himself a moment to cool down and regain his composure as best he could so he could finish the actual purpose of the shower in the first place, and it was only a matter of minutes before he stepped out, dried off, and headed towards his bedroom.
When he climbed into bed, Tony knew that the night ahead of him was probably going to be a long one. Very rarely did he ever find himself seemingly infatuated with somebody, but from the few times he had, he knew that the road wasn't a smooth one, and that they almost always resulted in a couple sleepless nights and restless dreams along the way.
But maybe, hopefully, as he closed his eyes with an almost helpless feeling of captivation, he wasn't the only one feeling such a way.
# #
Much like the library, Tony didn't care for Physics class, either. Not because the subject was boring or unenjoyable, but because he already knew all of it plus another thing or two, and being so far beyond the class did end up making the whole experience quite boring. Oftentimes, he found himself staring at a crack in the desk or one of the many equations posted on the wall and wondering how he could twist and mold them any way he pleased. Today, though, he was looking at something else and wondering somewhat unabashedly how he could twist and mold that any way he pleased – Christ, Tony, don't think like that.
Still, though, he kept his eyes trained on that boy seated a few desks away, watching almost amusedly as the soft brown curls fell in the boy's face and he absentmindedly pushed them away, as if it was just a nuisance routine that he didn't have the heart to change. He studied the way Bruce adjusted the glasses on his nose every now and then, and the way his hand curved around the pen he used to scribble down a few notes (that he probably didn't even need – one thing Tony did know about Banner was that he, too, was pretty much a genius). The longer he stared at the boy and the more he studied, the more infatuated Tony became, and he honestly couldn't decide whether or not he liked it.
Bruce was gorgeous, no doubt. But, yeah, the whole 'unrequited' thing seemed like it was going to suck.
Unless, of course, it wasn't unrequited; Tony was used to being able to have whoever he wanted whenever he wanted them, and he didn't see how this time could be any different. He was suave, charming, certainly well-endowed in the looks department, and actually interested. He could make it work (whatever 'it' was).
Tony's thoughts were abruptly cut short when the clock struck two and the shrill ring of the bell dismissed the students for the day. He gathered his things and headed towards the door, deciding to make a quick stop at his locker before he headed to the library.
Just as Tony finished putting away his things and shut his locker, he was interrupted by a hand thwacking against his back and the familiar tone of his best friend behind him. "Hey, my place after school?"
"Can't, Rhodey." Tony threw a glance over his shoulder, half-shrugging apologetically. "I've got other plans. Maybe tomorrow?"
"Other plans, huh." Rhodey took a step back and scrutinized his friend's expression. "I know what you mean when you say 'other plans.' What, you got a hot date?"
"Please. You know Wednesdays are my day off." Tony smirked caustically. "But nah, I've just got to go to the library for a bit."
Rhodey raised an eyebrow, mockingly stunned. "Library? Must be a really hot one, then. Who is she?"
"I told you, there's no 'she' involved here," Tony replied nonchalantly, turning on his heel. "Anyway, I'll see you later. We'll hang tomorrow or something." He said a quick goodbye and headed off towards his destination. Behind him, he heard Rhodey jokingly shout something like "Use protection!" and Tony swiftly flipped him the bird, wearing a smirk on his face.
When he reached the library towards the back of the school, Tony stopped to take a preparatory breath before entering. This was going to be easy. So easy. Or at least that's what he tried to tell himself as he pushed through the rickety oak doors and into the stuffy atmosphere of the library, scanning the tables for that familiar face he'd studied so closely in his last class. When he didn't spot the boy, Tony felt a pang of disappointment and almost turned away, until his gaze brushed past the table he'd been at the day before and caught sight of a mop of brown curls.
Coincidence?
Tony thought not. However, he also thought that maybe this was a dumb idea and maybe he should just lay off and get over this odd infatuation he had, and he almost turned away again. He stood still for a moment, lost in thought, before he finally decided to just take the chance and hope it worked in his favor.
He sauntered over to the table, shooting a few unnecessary sidelong glances at the others to pretend he was searching for a seat. Bruce didn't seem to notice, which made it a little easier for Tony to clear his throat and ask, "Hey, mind if I sit?"
The other boy seemed startled at first, cautiously looking up from his book and setting his gaze on Tony. "Uh, yeah, sure. I mean – no, I don't mind. Go ahead."
Tony flashed a small smile in Bruce's direction as he took a seat beside the boy. While he rummaged through his bag, he watched Bruce out of the corner of his eye, noticing his nervous little fidgets and quirks, and realizing that Bruce Banner was at least fifty-one times more beautiful up close.
After a few minutes of feigned searching and discreet observing, Tony pulled a book out of his bag and tried to make himself comfortable. "You're reading Shakespeare too, huh?" he commented, stealing a glance at the cover of Bruce's book. "It's boring as hell."
"I don't mind it, actually. It's nice to read something a little more straightforward for once," Bruce replied softly, keeping his eyes trained on the pages. The two sat in silence for a few moments, Bruce staring blankly at the page while Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek and mulled over what to say. He was just about to open his mouth to respond when Bruce, thankfully, broke the silence for him. "Hey, you're, uh, you're Tony Stark, right?"
A small smirk spread its way onto Tony's lips. "So you've heard of me."
Bruce's eyes flicked towards Tony for a second, and he ran his tongue across his lips (ugh, hot) with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Who hasn't?"
"Obviously nobody famous or interested enough to cut me a deal on one of my projects," Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes sarcastically before composing himself a second later. "But you have, and that's cool."
A similar smirk appeared on Bruce's lips, but his brow furrowed in what looked like confusion. "What makes you say that?" He turned his head to set his gaze on Tony, brushing away a piece of hair that had fallen over his eyes.
Tony started to reply, but he found that the words twisted and stuck to his tongue. His palms began to sweat and his heart beat just the slightest bit faster, and he felt his stomach flip and tie into knots. God, he shouldn't have been acting like this – he was feeling like some sort of pathetic, tongue-tied little boy with no sense of tact, but then again, he hadn't expected this to be so difficult. He'd expected this to go like any other occasion, with Bruce being the one incoherently speechless, but instead Tony found himself a bit too distracted by Bruce's eyes, and his nose, and the curvature of his lips (those lips that just seemed so inviting, and Tony wondered how they would look parted with shallow pants of breath passing between them while Tony's own made work elsewhere – inappropriate, Stark, totally inappropriate) that he could barely form a sentence beyond, "Well, you seem like a… nice guy."
"Nice guy, huh." Bruce looked away and chuckled softly. "Well, I'm glad you think so."
It's that and a whole lot of other things, too. Tony noticed the way Bruce seemed to shy away from the compliment, laughing it off as if it weren't actually genuine. "Why wouldn't I?" He leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.
"Oh, I –" Bruce snapped his head back up, an almost panicked look in his eye. "I didn't mean it like that, I just meant – I mean, you're, you know, you. I wouldn't have thought you'd ever really… notice my existence or anything." Half of his mouth pulled up in a tight, nervous smile, and Tony thought, or at least he hoped, that Bruce was maybe just a tad bit more anxious than he was.
"Oh, I've noticed," Tony murmured, unaware that he'd actually said it aloud. He quickly realized what he'd said and shook himself back to reality, hastily adding, "I mean, I've noticed you in Physics. Geniuses tend to notice other geniuses, you know." He threw in a small smile at the end, pushing the flattery.
At hearing Tony's comment, Bruce turned his head away again and smiled bashfully. Tony found it, well, adorable, and he felt his gaze soften when Bruce wasn't looking. "Thanks," Bruce responded finally, hesitating as if he was going to say more, but couldn't find the right words.
Tony leaned back in his chair, somehow managing to keep his gaze steady on the other boy. "Well, you know, it's nice to see someone who's on the same level. It's not every day you find someone in high school that's capable of having an actual, intelligent conversation. Even harder to find someone who's not, like, stereotypical awkward geek."
To Tony's pleasure, Bruce laughed again, the sound something of a rare delicacy, and a delightful one at that. "Well, I wouldn't go that far," he joked, absentmindedly running his fingers through his hair.
Tony smiled himself and shrugged casually. "I would," he said, "I probably wouldn't be over here if I thought that, anyway." He tried to remain nonchalant as he waited for Bruce to look back at him, and when the boy finally did, Tony found himself strangely relaxed. Their eyes met, each holding the other's gaze in their own, and Tony became lost in the way Bruce's amber gaze was so gentle yet so passionate, and somehow, the whole experience seemed effortless and, in a way, irrevocable.
After some number of timeless moments, Bruce broke the eye contact to look towards the clock, and Tony could have sworn he noticed just the slightest shade of pink on the boy's cheeks. "I, uh, I have to go," Bruce said, his almost the same mixture of edginess and disappointment that Tony felt. He hastily pushed out of his chair and gathered his things, throwing a quick glance in Tony's direction. "I'll see you tomorrow, maybe?"
Taken a little by surprise at Bruce's sudden movement, Tony nodded. "Yeah, probably," he replied, hoping that he didn't sound too eager. "We should, uh, hang out sometime," he added quickly, just as Bruce began to walk away.
When he heard Tony's words, Bruce halted for a moment. Tony couldn't quite tell why, but the boy seemed to be in thought as he half-turned back around towards the table. Watching expectantly, Tony swallowed thickly, caught between wondering if Bruce had the same thing on his mind, or if the boy was simply saying a quick goodbye.
However, Tony's brain got caught in a whirlwind of ideas flying every which way when Bruce turned around fully and walked towards the table, stopping directly in front of Tony. He seemed tentative, Tony noticed, and almost conflicted, but then their faces were barely an inch apart and there was another set of lips touching his own, and for all Tony knew, the sensation of Bruce delicately moving their lips together could have been completely a lovedrunk illusion.
Except that it wasn't, and Tony found himself absolutely cherishing every passing moment of it until Bruce unfortunately pulled away. Tony couldn't account for what his face must have looked like (though he imagined it was somewhere between satisfied and stunned) but Bruce wore a gentle smile on his own as he leaned towards Tony's ear and murmured, "Yeah, we should definitely hang out sometime."
Then he simply turned and walked away, leaving Tony dumbstruck and yearning behind him.
Why did you have to leave so soon?
Why did you have to walk away?