1.
A lazy breeze drifted through the garage. The door was lifted to let the bright midday sun into the space, but the shade kept the inside cooler than the pavement of the street. The air was starting to get those spicy scents of approaching fall, even though there were still little over a week left before classes started. Move-in had been the day before, but the street was still over-parked with parents, relatives, and students bringing the last of their belongings to the rickety but modest off-campus houses. Those who were done arranging furniture and unpacking boxes were lounging on their front lawns or milling about the block to reunite with old friends or make new ones. The smell of a distant barbeque mixed with the rising heat of the late August day.
Bruce Banner caught himself staring out the open garage door at some distant clouds. They were big and fluffy, promising for a nice summer day, but on the horizon were darker, more ominous signs of a coming storm. His expression was small and distracted as his fingers gently turned the slim screwdriver over and over in his hands. A part of him toyed with the superstition that this sign of weather could be foreshadowing for the coming year, but the logical side of his brain that always carried him through quickly squashed that thought like a bug.
"Banner? Bruce? Hello, screwdriver please?" Tony Stark impatiently waved his hand from under the shell of an old car. Bruce's best friend since freshman year, Tony was a bit of an ass, but also the only other triple major that he had met and actually got along with to some degree. They worked on most projects together, since they were both majoring in physics and engineering, and spent the majority of their time in garages or workshops constructing, patenting and selling what their professors called "inventions that even visionaries couldn't hope to structure themselves". They also often found themselves repairing people's cars, as Tony was now, or appliances and electronics for fees. Neither of them had a real job, but with Tony's crazy rich family and their patents and repairs, they didn't need it.
Bruce quietly apologized and handed Tony the screwdriver, bending over to peek under the car at him. "How's it coming?"
"Easy as it could be. Honestly, I'm amazed at how some people can mess their stuff up. This guy's entire axle is broken off, and he still drove it here. Seriously, the wheels were almost doing a split. Can you pass me that?" Bruce handed him a small wrench. "Thanks. Anyways, I'm tempted to charge them extra for being stupid. He probably ran over a space divider in a parking lot."
Bruce laughed softly and stood upright, once again looking out at the street. "You know we don't need that. Just fix it and we can get it out of here. We need to pull our cars up before the others get here."
Tony got quiet for a second, and Bruce knew that he had tensed. Then the soft clattering of the repairs continued, but he didn't say anything. Bruce let out a soft sigh and thought carefully before his next words. "Look, Tony… the rest of us don't know what happened between you two, but his name was already on the lease and he's coming back. No amount of sulking and throwing fits is going to change that, so can you… just try to power through? And if it's really terrible, we can work something else out for next semester. We all care about you, but no one wants your attitude ruining our junior year."
Tony's voice was bitter when he responded, too quickly. "I don't care. He's coming back, but that doesn't mean I have to like him, and that doesn't mean that I have to pretend to like him. He knows what he's coming back to, so don't expect a sugar-coat. And you're right, you don't know what happened, so don't tell me to get over it."
Bruce opened his mouth to respond, and when he did, it was soft. "Tony… just talk to him. You've had all summer to think things over. He's your best friend."
"No, you're my best friend. Apparently, you always were, because it sure as hell wasn't him."
"Tony," Bruce squared his shoulders a little, letting out a quiet breath. Tony was a great guy, but he could be damn annoying. And petty and rude and arrogant as all hell, but the list only went on. Bruce wouldn't stand for it this year. For his own sake, he couldn't. "I'm going out. When he gets here, you talk to him. If you don't, well…. I'll think of something. But do it. Deep down you know you want to, so do it. This isn't about you anymore; you've dragged us all into your shit and now I want it over before classes start. None of us need this negativity loitering around." He grabbed his glasses case off of the table and walked to the door at the back of the garage that would lead into the kitchen. "Talk to him."
When Bruce opened the door to step inside, he almost bumped into the broad chest of Steve Rogers. Replacing his bewildered expression with a tired smirk, Bruce said, "Well speak of the devil. Here to see Tony?"
Steve's charming, all-American smile was in place, a gentle assurance to the tension in the room. Tony's work had stopped again. But the smile didn't reach Steve's eyes, which danced with an awkward anxiety that was very unlike him. "Uh – yeah. Is he in here?"
"As usual." Bruce glanced back at Tony. "We didn't see you pull up, are you-"
"I parked a block down. I was helping Bucky unload some stuff. He moved in with the Wakandan kids because uh… well, they're all friends." Steve's smile remained tight, but his eyes darted uncertainly over to Tony, who still hadn't come out from under the car.
Bruce nodded with a tired smile. "Sounds good. How's his arm?"
Steve answered despite clearly being in a rush, wanting the small talk to be over. "Oh, it's great. You guys really helped him out, thank you…"
"Of course, our pleasure really. Um…" Bruce glanced back at the garage and then to Steve, then said with finality, "Well. I guess I'll leave you two alone. Call if you need anything, either of you." Then he stepped aside to let Steve pass before going into the house and closing the door behind him.
Steve stepped into the garage and glanced around, not focusing on anything for too long but trying to distract himself, trying to avoid the impending conversation. For some reason the little details of the garage brought back memories that warmed his heart and broke it at the same time; late nights playing cards on the fold-out table that never seemed to stop wobbling, coaxing Bruce and Tony to bed after realising that they'd been gone for about ten-too-many hours, clambering up the outside wall next to the garage door to shoot fireworks off the roof on Fourth of July… The memories that hit hardest were the quiet minutes that he got in here, alone with Tony. Tony was always working when it was just the two of them, but sometimes he would stop and look up and they'd exchange just a split-second, breath-taking glance, and Steve would think that maybe – just maybe – there was something more in that moment. Tony's dark eyes would soften and he'd stop talking for once and Steve's world would slow down, and when he would look away, it would always feel like waking up for the first time in a long while.
But now it was too quiet; Tony was ignoring him deliberately, and the air was thick with the unspoken rancour between them. Yes, Steve had come to apologise, but only if Tony would too. He had learned too late that apologies only made a person feel better if they had something to apologise for; if not, then it left a couple new, gaping wounds called guilt and shame. Steve looked at a chair, considering sitting down and acting casual, like this was the start of any other year. It didn't feel right, and instead, he stood as tall as his tired shoulders would allow, and said firmly but softly. "Tony, get out here."
The silence was stifling, and for a moment, Steve actually believed that Tony wouldn't listen again, and that he'd be left hanging, suspended in unwanted resentment for god only knows how much longer. Then, the trilling, crunchy sound of wheels on the cement garage floor cut the silence, giving him air, as Tony rolled out from under the car. He stood and dusted off his jeans – a little tight, Steve reluctantly acknowledged – and rolled up the sleeves of his red and black flannel, unbuttoned over an ACDC t-shirt. For those about to rock, we salute you. Steve almost snorted with the irony of it again, as his ROTC scholarship was the only thing that brought him to this university. Here he had found all he ever wanted, but was still reminded of the bitterness that life had by holding something just enough out of reach to force one to take a deep, cold look at themselves decide just how much they were willing to struggle for it. Steve's own priorities had been shifted a few ground-breaking times in the last three years, but he always seemed to find a way to power through. It was the only thing he knew how to do; just like right now, facing someone he couldn't decide if he hated or missed more than ever.
Tony's eyes were the same dark brown that could only be compared to dark chocolate, but they carried none of the softness that resided in Steve's good memories. Right now, they carried an accusatory, condemning glare, like that of the expensive interior of a court room. Despite having the height and muscle advantage, Steve wanted to shrink under that stare. It was only the knowledge that half of this was not his fault that kept him matching Tony's cold demeanour.
"You must have missed the memo, but we have new house rules," Tony glanced up as if thinking, but his bitterly sarcastic tone displayed that this was probably one of many greetings he'd prepared. "Rule number five, I believe it is, says clearly: 'No idiots allowed in the garage'. There's a list on the fridge. That in mind, your room is in the same place as it always was, so about-face, soldier."
"Glad to see you're well, too," Steve said with politeness despite the irritation bubbling in his chest, "and sorry to disappoint, but I'm not leaving just yet. We need to talk, and Bruce won't be gone for long."
"If he's stopping by the 7/11, then he will be. Oh – wait, never mind, shift change."
Steve blinked, momentarily confused by the blunder. "What's 7/11 got to do with anything?"
"Shut up."
"Only if you'll talk instead."
"I'm going to stop you right there, because I hate you, and you need to leave."
"I hate you too, but we're both still here. And I'm going to be in this house for a while longer, so you'd better get talking," The bitter banter came easier than Steve expected, and even though he was no less livid, he felt some of the tension that had been at the base of his neck all summer start to melt away.
Tony let out an exasperated sigh through his nose, crossing his arms. "What do you even want me to say? You started this whole mess, you wanted to leave and I thought you had a plan. You know exactly what you said, and I'm sorry if I would rather protect the friends that have never stabbed me in the back than the failed boyfriend who…" Tony trailed off. He pursed his lips and looked down, obviously caught off-guard by even acknowledging what Steve almost was to him. Steve's cheeks burned red with a sense of embarrassment and for a moment, he let his gaze drop to the floor.
"We need to talk, but you need to plan what you're going to say first. We don't need an incident like last time. I regret everything that happened and… and I want to say everything right this time." Steve looked back up at Tony, his blue eyes hesitant.
Tony held his gaze for a few painful, stunning moments, and Steve almost felt himself slip into those brown eyes again. They were now thoughtful, and something resembling doubt flickered behind them. But then Tony let out a short, decisive exhale, and the doubt was gone. "Finish moving in, we'll talk another time. I need to fix this guy's car before Thor gets here."
"How can I be sure that you'll follow through?" Steve's voice came out as a cross between desperate and accusatory. He winced – that had probably been the wrong tone to use.
Tony bristled, shifting his weight to the other leg, his hip popping out a bit in a probably intentionally sassy way. "And now we're back to calling me a liar. I'll do it, not because I want to, but because you've got it fixed in your head that I'm too much of a douche to do it. You're not better than me, and I'm going to talk to you just to prove that point. Now, rule number five, 'No idiots allowed in the garage'. Time for you to go, Mr. Rogers."
Steve took one last look around the space, eyes once more landing on Tony. He didn't know the next time he'd be able to look at him this sure, this confidently, as painful as it might be. He tried to take it all in. Then, with finality, he nodded and said, "Okay. Talk to you soon, then." He offered one last hint of a polite smile, then headed back inside. The heavy door to the garage that closed behind him as he stepped into the kitchen sounded as if it was packing all of the events of the garage away in that space. None of these problems will come into this house. What happens in the garage, stays in the garage. It seemed to say. Steve didn't know if he minded that or not.
Back in the garage, Tony let out a tense breath before rubbing his eyes. The pressure squeezing, suffocating his heart and chest wouldn't leave. He blamed Steve Rogers – for showing his face here again, for all of the horrible things he said this summer, for all of the pain from last year… he blamed him for everything, and knew he wanted to. But deep down, in a place Tony refused to acknowledge, he knew that this wasn't entirely Steve's fault. Tucked right next to that feeling, like peas in a pod, Tony also knew that he still harbored deep, unexplainable feelings for Steve. Feelings that he couldn't understand, no matter how many degrees he had or how many classes he took, or how much money he had socked away to buy his way out of things. But he begrudgingly admitted that he wouldn't get it any time soon, so instead of standing and processing his thoughts, he returned to fixing the shitty Volvo parked in his garage, and hoped that Thor was feeling generous with the beer he undoubtably would bring later. Tony wheeled himself back under the car and got back to work, the familiar clinking and clanking of the metal something to focus on. Yes, this year would be challenging, but yes, Tony would find a way out of it. He always did. I think I'd just cut the wire, he recalled with a smug smirk.