Hello everyone, I hope you enjoy this story. Before we begin here are the warnings and disclaimers. This will be rated M for a reason (M/M), I'll give a small warning at the beginning of chapters that have "Rated M" scenes (nothing too graphic) also, I DON'T own Marvel or any of the characters depicted here (unless they are mine). This is simply for creative purposes and I do not monetize. Thank you, again, and I hope you enjoy!
"This back-breaking work will be the death of me." Tony complained with that same exasperated tone of voice he employed when that particular time of the day rolled around.
"You say that every day, don't you get tired of repetition?" Clint replied stopping to take a breath after pushing a giant box into a corner. They were currently doing inventory at the factory and the 'done' pile had to be returned to the room it had originally come from.
"Ironic, seeing as all we do each day is repetitive." Tony replied, leaning against the wall to take a small break. He removed his leather gloves and rubbed a hand down his face then ruffled his hair, noticing how sweaty he'd gotten over the past ten minutes.
"At least we're getting paid… and we're not out there, you know—in the war." Clint reminded Tony. The smaller man sighed, acquiescing. "I guess you're right, but 20th century Industrial America isn't any easier to deal with either." Tony said.
"Amen, now stop lounging and help me haul these boxes in here."
ooOOoo
"Did you hear about the new guy Fury hired today? Heard he was a total klutz." Clint whispered conspiratorially as he sat down to eat lunch with Tony. They were in the middle of the little room they reserved for the employees, where they could eat their food, smoke, play some cards, or take a break when the strain of the work was overwhelming.
"Yeah, I heard. You think he'll last more than a day?" Tony whispered back, simultaneously taking a bite out of his tuna sandwich.
"I don't know, he's surely built for the job though." Clint said removing his own sandwich from the paper bag. "You saw him?" Tony asked, surprised.
"Just for a second while Fury was introducing him to the different areas of the factory. Big, blonde, pretty boy. Looks like he belongs in the cover of some magazine or something. I wonder what ails him." Clint mused aloud as he wolfed down his lunch.
"Why do you say that?" Tony asked, chewing his food contemplatively.
"Well, a man like that should be out fighting the world's war, not cooped up in here with us cripples." Clint said matter-of-factly.
"Hey, we ain't no cripples." Tony chastised.
"Oh yeah, you have a broken heart and I'm practically deaf, what do you think that makes us?" Clint asked condescendingly.
"At least we can use our body; the real cripples are cooped up in the hospital with missing limbs." Tony said, uncharacteristically optimistic. He hated seeing his normally bright friend in the dumps, though, especially when they were so close to 'quittin' time.'
"Pfft, whatever. It doesn't matter—we're here right? You gonna finish that sandwich or what, we have three more hours of 'back-breaking' labor to endure. And tonight, I have a special surprise for you." Clint said, his entire mood shifting with the news.
"Oh, I hate when you say that. It normally ends us up in some trouble." Tony groaned, handing his half-eaten sandwich to Clint, who took it eagerly.
"No, no, no. This time it'll be good, I promise." Clint assured.
"That's what you said last time, and we ended up spending a night in the cell. Be glad I have great bargaining skills." Tony reminded.
"Not great enough." Clint murmured.
"What was that?" Tony asked.
"Nothing, nothing. Let's get back to work."
ooOOoo
Tony and Clint returned to their boxes; two hours later there was a small group meeting consisting of all the boys on the floor, their supervisor, and Nick Fury.
"What do you think he wants?" Clint whispered. "Shh, I'm trying to hear." Tony replied.
"As you may all know, we have a new member in our team. Most of you have seen him today… he's a little rusty but I believe we can help in that department. I know you all have responsibilities to take care of outside of work, but I would appreciate it very much it one of you would volunteer your time to help our new addition." Fury said. As soon as those words escaped his lips, most of the people shuffled and looked around to stare at anything but him. They had seen the new guy in action; he was a total mess and absolutely lost in all things mechanic.
"Tony volunteers!" Clint shouted above the crowd. "What? No! Clint-
"What was that?" Fury asked looking at them both directly.
"I said Tony volunteers; you know he's more than willing to help." Clint said, his grin reaching the tip of his temple, it was so large.
"Is that the case Mr. Stark?" Fury asked with a raised eyebrow. How could Tony decline now, he was put on the spot and all his team-members were looking at him quite pleadingly. I mean, how bad can this guy really be?
"Sure…" Tony replied unconvincingly.
"Wonderful, then it's decided, you will be Steve's mentor until he gets the hang of things." Fury said contently. Meanwhile, Clint slapped Tony in the back and tried to keep back his laughter.
"You owe me one." Tony whispered angrily to Clint as he followed Fury to where the rookie sat waiting.
"I gotta warn you about something before you meet him Stark. Steve's a bit… crippled, nothing too noticeable at first but he was caught in an explosion and his left arm suffered the most damages. It's out of bandages, but it will probably take a long time for it to truly heal. I need you to be patient with him, he's the son of a good friend of mine and I promised him some work so he wouldn't feel useless." Fury summarized as they walked through the long production lines.
"That's fine by me; I'm not biased to a little injury." Tony replied. He couldn't care less if the guy had a gaping hole where his mouth used to be, he was here to do a job; a little deformity wasn't gonna stop him from doing just that.
"It makes me very happy to hear you say that, we've lost so many men to the war already. I don't know how I'm gonna replace all those empty spots." Fury said off-handedly.
"You said his name was Steve?" Tony asked for clarification, he'd have a talk with Clint about this later.
"Yes, Steve Rogers." That was the last they spoke before they entered Fury's office. This was the second time in two years that Tony stepped foot into that room, and the first was to get the job.
"Mr. Fury sir, I'm so sorry about the part-
Steve stopped talking immediately after he noticed that Fury was accompanied by someone. Out of curtesy, he stretched his hand out to introduce himself. Tony on the other hand was left speechless. He wished (for the millionth time in his short life) that this sin would be taken from him. This feeling he'd been carrying around since late into his childhood. It made him notice things about his fellow men that would be a one way ticket to jail and, though he was not an overly religious man, to hell as well. But he couldn't help the slight increase in his palpitations when he touched Steve's hand.
In that moment, Tony decided to dislike Steve. It would be safer for the both of them (safer for Tony) if he kept a distance, put up a barrier until these feelings went away—they always did in the past.
"Tony Stark. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." Tony said with forced nonchalance.
"Great, now that we've gotten names out of the way—Steve, Tony will be your mentor until you can get your bearings around here." Fury said, his one good eye travelling between Steve and Tony daring them to disagree.
"Does this have to do with the part I broke? I'm sorry, I truly am. There's no need for you to drag this good fellow into my problems. You should just get rid of me and find a suitable replacement." Steve said, looking over at Tony apologetically.
"Nonsense, all you need is friend to help you out. Tony here is more than willing to be that friend. That's the last I hear about you quitting. Now go, you're wasting precious daylight." Fury ordered, sitting behind his desk and grabbing a cigar.
As they made their way out of Fury's office and down the stairs, Steve tried to communicate with Tony, explain his intentions. But Tony was having none of it.
"Enough, alright? You were given a job and you're either gonna do it, or march back into Fury's office and resign. I can't stand indecisive people." Tony snapped once they landed on the bottom floor.
"I'm sorry." Steve said quickly, then a little calmly "I haven't really held a job before; I was put in the army as soon as the war started, all I really know how to do is hold a gun and shoot at whoever I'm told to shoot. This civil work is not something I'm used to."
"There's nothing 'civil' about packing parts and putting them together to make a car, it's just a job. Now we can both stand here and have a pity-party of what was, or you can come with me so you can learn your stuff and I can return to my job. Because, unlike you, I don't have job-security." Tony said, probably a little too harshly. It was Steve's first day after all, just because he was feeling a certain way, didn't mean he had to take it all out on the poor guy.
Unfortunately, that's what transpired the remainder of the day. Any slight mistake, as minimal as it might be, ticked Tony off (more than it should have) and he would reprimand the life out of the new employee. The others even took a break to observe Tony's dictatoresque attitude toward Steve; the poor blonde could only do as he was told with a shut lip and strong determination to prove he could do well.
"It's like you were born with no sense of coordination whatsoever, I'm surprised not more of you was caught in the explosion." Tony said offhandedly, completely ignoring the fact that he just struck the largest nerve in Steve's body.
The blonde dropped the hammer that was currently in his hand and turned to look at Tony directly in the eye. The brunette actually gulped when he felt the full force of Steve's stare. The others also stopped to gawk at the sudden silence.
"My best-friend died in that explosion, he's the reason I'm alive today. I thank god every day for this mangled arm, because it could have been him scooping pieces of me out of his uniform instead of the other way around." Steve said through clenched teeth. Tony, at least, had the decency to look ashamed.
"I'm sorry, I crossed the line." Tony murmured, he was the first to break eye-contact as he hung his head.
Steve huffed and leaned down to pick up the hammer and resumed his work. They didn't speak for the remainder of their shift and Tony couldn't wait to leave the damn place. He really made that other guy upset, better for Tony—at least he won't feel as attracted to him if he knows Steve doesn't like him.
ooOOoo
"Man, that's awful." Clint said as they were walking home and Tony relayed the story back to him.
"Yes, I know, I feel like total jackass. I made a fool out of myself on floor 1 and the poor guy didn't even deserve it." Tony replied, tucking his hands in his jacket pocket, it was the middle of August in New York, and it was starting to get cold. 1919 could not come soon enough.
"Alright, alright, let's forget about it tonight. I did say I had a surprise for you and since I do owe you one…" Clint trailed off as he dragged Tony into the nearest alley.
"Oh no, Clint, not another one of your sleazy bars!" Tony groaned as they circled around the strange and dark pathways.
"A-ha, but this is a special bar, you'll see when we get there." Clint said cryptically. It was a series of long alley-ways and stairs before they made it to their destination; it was a good thing Tony had an eidetic memory because if it weren't for that, he would be trying to make an escape.
As soon as they stepped inside the place, he could smell the alcohol, smoke, and bad decisions.
"Where have you taken me this time?" Tony asked, a little bit appalled by the sheer volume of people in public displays of affection.
"Oh, just you wait!" Clint said, excited out of his socks. They snaked their way through the main room, Tony being unwillingly dragged into the back part where he presumed the 'surprise' lay.
"Ta-da!" Clint exclaimed as he revealed the second room. Everywhere, there were girls in small clothing and men (married, mind you) lip-locked with these females that were very obviously not their wives.
"You brought me to a brothel?" Tony asked, a little on the disgusted side.
"Yeah, when was the last time you let loose and had your way with a pretty little thing?" Clint asked eyeing the pretty ladies.
"I don't know, I can't remember." Probably because he'd never done anything with any female or anyone for that matter; unless you counted himself.
"See, and that's your problem right there. No wonder you were snapping at that rookie today, you're wound up my dear friend. You need to release your inhibitions, don't worry, I won't tell Fury if you get a little too loose." Clint winked. Tony didn't know how to turn down his offer; Clint was probably being a good friend (while at the same time benefiting from this outing). But at the same time Tony couldn't go through with this. He didn't like this, he didn't like girls; he could accept that much of himself. Plenty of men didn't like girls; they only wed because they had to. Tony was fortunate enough to have no lineage to pass on, no legacy to uphold, so he simply lived, (contently) by himself. And if some day he looked twice at a man—well, that was between him and his mind.
Just the mention of Steve alone reminded him of that fact.
But, regardless, he was being dragged into the room and thrown on a chair while girls draped themselves over the both of them.
"See Tony, it's not so difficult." Clint said, rubbing noses with one of the hostesses.
Tony couldn't reply, he was hot and cold at the same time. He wasn't quite sure where he should put his hands (and he was definitely not gonna put them on her). He kept looking for a way out, a way to tell his friend that he was not comfortable here, but Clint was too preoccupied.
It became too much when the girl started to fondle him; he shot up immediately and started walking back to the entrance.
"Tony, where ya' going! You're gonna miss the surprise!" Clint called out, but Tony kept walking—kept walking until he was back in the alley and he could take a deep breath of the rancid air. He didn't wait to see if his friend would come to look for him, Clint could find his way home alone.
Once he made it back to the entrance of the first alley he looked for the keys in his pocket, he then remembered he had left them in his locker when he was changing coats.
Tony sighed and made the return walk to the factory.
He was surprised to see that one of the production lines was still lit. That meant that someone had stayed overtime.
Tony walked quietly to the entrance and was shocked to find none other than Steve working on a piece of machinery that would later go to the assembly line and into a car. He had the tools laid out in front of him and the instructions written on the opposite wall, but he looked like he was struggling, if the angry jerky movements were any indication.
Tony watched for a little longer, he allowed himself the simple pleasure to observe the man from afar. That's what he used to do in his schoolboy days, when he realized it was inappropriate to ogle people.
Clint hadn't been kidding when he mentioned that the man was built for war, he had fine-tuned muscles that spoke of years of exercise and dedication. Tony's muscles were of consequence, the line of work he had chosen was very taxing if one was unfit, but Steve's were of pure determination.
Tony gripped the wall as he noticed how the muscles in Steve's back would flex and bulge as he screwed and unscrewed the bolts to the machine. Tony had only ever wanted to touch a handful of men in his lifetime, but right this moment it was all he could do to keep himself in check.
Tony decided to stop staring and actually help the struggling man.
He cleared his throat, startling Steve, and sauntered his way over to where he was standing.
"Having a little trouble there?" Tony teased, smiling at the former army-man.
"How long have you been watching?" Steve sighed, defeated. He laid the tool back down on the platform and looked down at the machine and pondering his failure.
"Long enough to know that you have no clue what you are doing." Tony said taking off his jacket and putting it aside.
"You don't have to do that." Steve said quickly.
"But I do… I'm sorry about today, I was in a dark place and didn't know how to handle whatever I was feeling, I took it out on you and that was wrong. I hope we can move past this and into a more friendly territory." Tony said giving Steve a small smile. That did the trick; the blonde let out a blinding grin and nodded animatedly, stunning Tony momentarily.
"I'm glad we can put all that ugliness behind us, I've been meaning to apologize too. When you said that about the explosion… it was a very personal subject and… it's been a couple of months now but it feels just as fresh every time I think about it." Steve said sadly, unconsciously clutching his left arm.
"I understand, I'll think a little more before I say something so insensitive." Tony promised, holding out his hand as if to say 'truce?' Steve accepted it graciously and nodded in acquiescence.
"Great, now where were we?" Tony asked.
For the next hour, Tony gave Steve as detailed an explanation as he could of all the parts on the production line and where they went, how they fit, what tools to use, and how to work quickly yet efficiently.
"Just a little tighter—there you go. See? Now you know everything you need to know for this part of the processing line. If Fury decides to send you to the packaging line—that's where I stay—then I'll instruct you in that area as well." Tony said earnestly. "Also, as an afterthought, if you ever need anything you can come to me as well."
"Thank you Mr. Stark." Steve replied, tipping his head in acknowledgment.
"No problem Mr. Rogers." Tony replied in the same tone.
"Does this factory, by any chance, have a locker room with some showers? I brought a change of clothes in anticipation for the work, but I was hoping to get home before I truly needed them." Steve asked, putting away the tools and parts.
"Yeas, uh, I can show you were that is—i-if you want." Tony said, embarrassed by his stutter. "I have to go there anyways since I left something in my coat pocket."
"Wonderful, just let me get my bag from the car." Steve said.
"You have your own car?" Tony asked, impressed. He, personally, only had enough money to keep himself fed, clothed, and occasionally purchase a new blouse.
"Yes, it was a birthday present from my father; he's a General in the army so he was able to get his hands on some of the prototypes. He made sure they removed the 'added features' and gave me just a simplified version." Steve said as they made their way to the car. There it was, shiny and black in the dim light of the night.
"Impressive, my father used to tinker with cars before he died, he would resurrect them from the junkyard and then dismantle them for scrap." Tony recalled fondly. It was one of the few times he could have some fun with his father.
"How did he pass?" Steve asked gently, as he closed the door to the car and slung the bag over his shoulder.
"Pneumonia, he had been working late one winter and… it's been years now, my mother had died during her second childbirth so I only knew her for a handful of years." Tony said, feeling comfortable enough with Steve to bring up something as personal as the death of his parents.
"I'm sorry." Steve said, and Tony could feel the sincerity behind those words.
"It's okay, better not to dwell too much in the past." Tony said, trying (and failing) to sound cheerful.
"That's correct." Steve said, opening the door to Floor 1 for Tony.
Tony, in turn, led Steve into the locker room.
"The showers are just in there." Tony pointed, going over to his locker to retrieve his keys. He could live with being a little filthy until he got home.
He immediately stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of Steve stripping.
"What are you doing?" Tony asked, his pitch had increased alongside his breathing. He hoped Steve wouldn't notice.
"Sorry, I forgot—when you're in the army you don't have much choice but to break down those privacy barriers. You get exposed to a lot of, uh, flesh you weren't ready to see." Steve said slowing his movements.
"No… I understand, just, er, wasn't ready for it I suppose." Tony tried to diffuse the awkwardness by smiling but it turned out to be more of a grimace than anything.
As Tony walked away, Steve stopped him in his tracks with these words. "Aren't you gonna take a shower?"
"I can wait 'til I get home." Tony said quickly, he tried to make another getaway but Steve stopped him again.
"Nonsense, you'll be too tired when you get home, better get it out of the way now." Steve said.
"I don't know…" Tony said, slowly turning back around. "I'll drive you back home." Steve offered, sweetening the pot.
Tony sighed and returned to his locker.
He was a bit more modest than Steve when it came to nudity. To preserve the little dignity he had left, he wrapped a towel around himself, until he reached the showers, where he could pull a curtain and get some semblance of privacy.
"So, how long have you worked here?" Steve asked as soon as the water started flowing. Tony found it very difficult to form words, knowing that the object of his current affection was separated only by a brick wall.
"About two years, it will be three in January." Tony managed to reply. He lathered his overheated body and tried to think boring thoughts, mundane, repetitive, non-Steve thoughts.
"Did you ever consider joining the army when the war started?" Steve asked curiously.
"I did, but I have a heart condition that prevents me from doing too strenuous works, it's the reason I'm in packaging and not assembly." Tony replied.
"Sorry to hear that." Steve said. "There's nothing you, or anyone for that matter, can do about it, so let's just leave it at that." Tony said testily, he hated people's pity; he could sleep better without it.
The rest of the shower was taken in silence. Soon after, the two returned to the locker room and as Steve dressed, Tony snuck a glance (or three) feeling like the degenerate man he was for doing it. He shouldn't take advantage of another man's openness, he shouldn't even be thinking about another man in that manner. But we've already established that it is quite difficult for him to undo that part of himself.
Once they were both outside, Tony looked uncomfortable. He stared at the car as if it would eat him whole.
"You know, it's a great thing you're doing here, but you don't have to. I'm perfectly capable of walking home." Tony said nervously.
Steve held the passenger door open nonetheless, somehow knowing that Tony would climb in regardless of his qualms.
The drive home consisted of the few occasional grunts of instructions Tony gave Steve as form of direction to his home.
"Here we are." Steve said to Tony, as the brunette practically launched himself out of the car. It was difficult keeping up the façade of nonchalance when he was inches apart from Steve.
"Thank you very much Mr. Rogers, I'll see you tomorrow at work." Tony said as a way of goodbye.
"Goodnight Mr. Stark." Steve said to Tony's retreating back. If his eyes, before he drove away, lingered a little too long on the slight curve of Tony's hips and the way his pants wrapped around his hind-quarters, well—that was between him and his mind.
A/N: So, how was it? I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a comment or review if you wish to see something improved or have any criticisms. Thanks you for reading!