A/N: This was supposed to be just a cute little cat fic, but the angst snuck in, like it usually does.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody and none of this is making me any money. Just gonna be poor forever. Waaah.
Steve had known Tony came from a wealthy family. Stark Industries was a pretty well-known tech company after all, and Tony's father was the CEO. But he was still awed by the size of the mansion the Starks called home.
"Come on in," Tony said, gesturing through the ornate double doors. "We can set up in Dad's office if you want. He's off in Europe right now so it's not like he can say no."
"If you think it's best," Steve said faintly, glancing up at the enormous chandelier above the dining table.
Tony grabbed his arm and tugged him along. "Come on. Let's grab a snack and get to work. I really want to get this stupid project done with as soon as possible so we can just mess around for the rest of the weekend."
Steve grinned and let himself be dragged into the kitchen.
Tony usually put off most of his projects until the last minute, but when Steve refused to make-out with him until the work was done, Tony suddenly became the textbook image of a diligent student. And he was sure Tony was especially eager to get their project done this time because he had turned eighteen last week.
When Tony had asked him out at the beginning of the semester, in the very first class meeting, Steve had made it clear that he was uncomfortable with the idea of going out with a minor, considering their six year age gap. But Tony had been persistent and they had slowly become friends and had even started dating, even though Steve hadn't wanted to have sex with Tony while he was still only seventeen.
Well, he wasn't seventeen anymore.
"And here we are," Tony said casually, leading them into a kitchen the size of Steve's dorm.
"Wow," Steve said, eyes flickering over the marble countertops and rows of white oak cabinets. "You have so much space in here. I bet your family has every cooking utensil known to man."
"Not really. Mom doesn't cook that much so most of the cabinets are empty. Just look." Tony opened one of the cupboards above the stove and a Maine Coon looked out at them with wide-eyed surprise.
"Hi, cat," Tony said. He shut the door. "Bye, cat."
"Oh," Steve said. "I didn't realize you had a cat."
"A couple cats, actually." Tony froze. "You're not allergic, are you?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Steve said sheepishly.
Luckily, cat dander was probably one of his mildest allergies. He could safely admire Tony's cat from a distance, but the second cat fur got anywhere near his face, he'd break out in his usual sneezing fit.
Tony threw the cupboard door back open and pointed a finger at the cat. "You!" he said imperiously. "Get out of there right now. You're getting fur in the cabinets."
The cat drew itself up in a dignified pose, then hooked its paw around the door and closed it back in on itself.
Tony stared open-mouthed.
Steve barely suppressed a snort. Allergies or not, he was pretty sure he'd love having cats like Tony's hanging around his dorm.
"Oh my god," Tony said. "I still know you're in there." He reached into the cabinet and scooped the cat up.
The cat yowled until Tony deposited him in the hallway. "Now get lost, you brat," Tony said. "Go play with Dummy or something. Just stay away from Steve."
"Dummy," Steve said, with a shake of his head. "That's a mean name."
"It's well-deserved. Trust me. He lost his outdoor privileges because he kept sleeping in the middle of the road. Fucking cat almost got run over a few times."
"Not the smartest sleeping spot," Steve agreed.
Tony pulled a carton of blueberries out of the fridge and popped one in his mouth. "And he's always getting himself tangled up in the blinds or my computer cords. He's just a dumbass cat."
Steve shrugged and helped himself to a blueberry.
"So, we're definitely setting up in Dad's office," Tony said. "The cats never go near the place. He hates them and they're terrified of him. A win-win for everybody."
Howard Stark's office was a little smaller than Steve expected, but the elegant mahogany desk was big enough for them to both spread out their pages of assignment data across it and look for any departments or product lines that seemed unproductive. It was going pretty well, until Tony started making tapping sounds and disrupting Steve's concentration.
"Would you cut that out?" Steve hissed.
"What?" Tony said. "I'm working."
"You're also distracting. Just stop fidgeting, okay?"
"But I'm not doing anything."
Steve grasped both of Tony's hands in his. "Honey, when you get bored, you start tapping your pen and it's-"
He paused. There was that noise again and it obviously wasn't Tony this time.
Tony looked around the room. "Did you hear that? Sounds like it's coming from outside."
Well, that would be a relief. Still annoying, but more manageable since Steve knew it wasn't Tony.
The doorknob jiggled.
"What the hell?" Tony muttered. "I told Jarvis to take the weekend off." He stalked over to the door and threw it open.
There was another cat standing in the doorway, a sleek orange tabby. It was balanced precariously on its hind legs, front paws stretched overhead.
"Well, look who it is," Tony said.
The cat chirped a greeting, cocking its head to one side to stare at Tony. As Steve watched, the cat wobbled and slowly tipped over to the side.
Steve smiled. "So, this is Dummy?"
"No, this is Butterfingers. Clumsiest cat in the world." Tony reached down to stroke the cat's back as it righted itself. "He's cross-eyed so his sense of balance is off."
"Aw," Steve said.
Tony scooped the cat into his arms. "He's fine. Well, mostly. He can't jump up anywhere without falling over and he's always bumping into things. Otherwise, totally healthy."
"Well, that's good."
Tony hoisted the cat over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Got to feed this big lug so he'll stop bothering us."
"Wash your hands afterward," Steve said with a smile.
Tony rolled his eyes. "Duh."
Steve went back to work on their project, sighing as he pored over the data. He didn't really like the business course, but it had been the only elective that fit his schedule. Tony didn't really like the class either, but his father was making him go for a business degree so he'd be prepared to one day take over as CEO of Stark Industries.
It was no secret that Tony hated all the corporate dealings. He was much happier tinkering away in his lab, creating new products. And he already had two advanced engineering degrees from MIT, one earned when he was just fourteen. Steve really didn't see the point of forcing Tony into a position that would make him miserable, but as an art student on scholarship, this was the only way he would have ever crossed paths with Tony. So, he couldn't be too negative.
Tony returned just as Steve had come up with five possible areas for their hypothetical business to improve production.
"Sorry about that," Tony said, flopping down in his chair with a gusty sigh. "Butterfingers knocked over some stuff in the pantry so I had to clean that all up so you'd actually be able to eat something for dinner."
Steve reached over and squeezed Tony's shoulder. "I appreciate it. When we're done with our presentation, I'll cook us something."
Tony brightened. "And I can rustle us up a bottle from Dad's wine cellar."
"You're too young to be drinking," Steve said. He had heard stories about Tony getting wasted on campus a year ago and he was determined there was not going to be a repeat performance.
Tony rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. A bottle just for you, you lucky bastard."
Steve smirked. He didn't drink all that much, but a little red wine would be good for his heart. And good for irritating Tony, which was half the fun of doing anything.
It took another two hours to finish working out all the details for their presentation on Wednesday. Steve was sure all of their proposals made sense and the professor, playing the role of CEO, would accept almost all of them. They wouldn't look like proper consultants, too young and too scrawny to look very authoritative, but Steve was stubborn and that counted for a lot.
After all the work was done, Tony waltzed into the kitchen and cracked open a celebratory Coke. Steve pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and stole a swig of his Coke before he started on dinner.
There wasn't a lot to choose from in Tony's fridge. The Starks seemed to rely on microwavable dinners, instant noodles, whatever could be reheated or made in minutes. And that wasn't the way Steve was raised. His mother had always cooked everything from scratch, lovingly culled from whatever ingredients she could afford. And Steve was going to make sure Tony got to experience that pleasure at least once.
It took a little creativity, but Steve opened up a can of chicken and box of rigatoni, and managed to put together a serviceable pasta sauce from some tomatoes, sour cream, Tabasco, and a little white wine. Tony was a big fan of tomatoes, Steve knew. And from the way Tony hung around, leaning into him as he watched him cook, it was the right choice.
As soon as Steve set the plates on the table, a fluffy gray and white cat rushed up to them, meowing loudly and twining itself around Tony's ankles and then Steve's.
"Hi, Dummy," Steve said, looking over at Tony for confirmation.
"Get lost, cat," Tony said. "Steve's allergic."
The cat sprawled out across their feet and rolled onto his back.
"Maybe he's hungry," Steve said.
"He's been fed," Tony said. "Just ignore him. He's a little attention whore. He'll come lay on my lap when I'm watching TV and plop down on top of my homework. Just can't stand it when I'm doing anything besides fawning over him."
"He probably just loves spending time with his owner," Steve said.
Tony snorted. "The idiot probably thinks Rhodey's his owner. Rhodey's a friend of mine, you know. A real good friend."
"I know," Steve said dryly. "He gave me the whole speech about taking it easy on you since you're just a kid."
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh god. That's fucking embarrassing."
Dummy meowed again and pawed at Tony's pant leg.
"Oh, shut up," Tony said. "I know you like Steve. You don't have to tell me twice. But how about telling Rhodey the next time the two of you have one of your little chats?"
Steve raised an eyebrow.
Tony sighed. "The little moron doesn't just lay on my laptop when I'm doing homework. He likes to press keys and poke at stuff on the screen. And if I leave it unattended to go to bed or go to the bathroom, he always brings up Skype to talk to Rhodey. And I'm the one who gets blamed for it when the damn cat calls him at 3 a.m."
"I've never seen a cat who could use Skype before," Steve said.
Tony shrugged and tossed a squeaky toy into the hallway for Dummy to chase after. "It's easy. Just a few taps on the screen. No password or anything." He looked contemplative. "I should get you on Skype."
"Maybe later," Steve said. "I'm hungry."
He had learned over the years that eating small, frequent meals was the best way to manage his frequent migraines. With his limited budget, it was a little difficult, but he tried to eat whenever he felt hungry, even if all he could afford was an apple.
Tony dropped into the seat across from Steve and wolfed down several bites of pasta before Steve could blink. "S'good," Tony said. "I could eat this kind of stuff every night."
Steve smiled. "We'll go grocery shopping tomorrow. Because this is pretty much scraping the barrel."
"Oh sure," Tony said. "I've got a credit card for anything I need while Mom and Dad are away."
Of course he did. Tony thought nothing of grabbing a venti latte every morning, a venti iced coffee in the afternoon, and going out for dinner a couple nights a week. But for Steve, just being able to go to the grocery store and pick something out for dinner without worrying about his budget for the week was a luxury.
The cats lurked around the kitchen, licking the last drops out of the can of chicken and attempting to finish up the leftover pasta sauce until Tony chased them off the counter. And then they just circled under the table, apparently waiting for scraps. Steve pretended not to notice when Tony wiped off tiny chunks of chicken in his napkin and dropped them discreetly by his feet.
After dinner, Tony put out more food for the cats and then dragged Steve into his bedroom while the cats were busy eating. Steve would have normally protested about the fact that there were still dishes that needed to be washed, but Tony's eyes were bright and his lips were red from the grape juice he had been drinking and it was so hard to resist kissing him.
He knew he couldn't pin Tony down unless he wanted to be pinned, but Tony was compliant and let Steve push him down onto the bed.
"Finally," Tony murmured breathlessly. "I've wanted this so bad." He ran his hands under Steve's shirt.
Steve let Tony slip his shirt off over his head. He knew he was pale and bony, but for some inexplicable reason, Tony was still attracted to him. Tony could have anybody he wanted. Someone strong and healthy, someone who could afford to take Tony out to nice restaurants once in awhile, someone who could actually keep up with Tony intellectually. But Tony had still chosen him, even though he really had nothing to offer someone like Tony.
"Hey," Tony whispered. "Are we going to do this thing or not?" He ran a hand over Steve's shoulders, squeezing gently as he looked up at him, eyes wide and concerned.
"Yeah, sorry." Steve bent down to kiss Tony's mouth.
Tony tipped his head back."I love you, you know," he murmured. "When you become a famous artist, I'll buy every single one of your paintings."
Steve smiled. "Thanks, babe."
"I mean it, Steve. I've seen your work. You're going to be a big name one day. And I'll be lucky enough to say I knew you way back when you were just starting out."
"Is this really your idea of pillow talk?"
Tony huffed. "I'm going to keep talking until you get that mopey look off your face. Because we have the whole weekend to ourselves and I'm not about to waste it."
"That's the thing," Steve said. "It's just for this weekend. But finals are coming up and-"
"So? It'll be busy finals week, but we'll meet up after that. Beginning of next semester."
"I won't be taking another business class," Steve said quietly.
Tony rolled his eyes. "I'll still see you on campus somewhere. Well figure it out."
"And what comes after that? After we graduate? Our lives have always been moving in different directions."
"Steve," Tony said sternly. "You're one of the most stubborn people I've ever met. I've seen you on the verge of a fight with some dude who didn't think Rosie the Riveter had artistic value. So, you're willing to fight over a stupid propaganda poster, but you won't fight for us?"
"Tony, it's not that-"
"Yes it is. I'll become your art patron if I have to. Buying every single one of your paintings until the rest of the world sees what I see. And I don't want to hear any crap about it being charity, because it's not. You can pay me back with sex and pasta every night."
Despite himself, Steve felt his mouth curving into a smile. "How would you know you'd want to have sex with me every night? It might be terrible."
"Won't know until we try," Tony said, with an answering grin.
Steve attacked Tony's neck with kisses.
Tony groaned and arched into the touch. "Already awesome."
Steve was working his way down to Tony's collarbone when he felt a weight settle onto his back. He winced at the tiny pinpricks of pain that followed as the cat kneaded him. "Uh, Tony, your cat."
Tony blinked a few times before his eyes focused and then they narrowed into slits as he scowled. "Dummy, no," he said sternly. "Get off Steve."
The cat grumbled, but landed with a heavy thud off the side of the bed.
"Damn cat," Tony muttered, dropping his head back against the pillow. "You okay, Steve?"
"Itchy," Steve confessed. If he didn't wash off the scratches right away, they'd become raised, red welts that would bother him the rest of the night.
Tony pushed himself up into a sitting position. "First order of business, locking the bedroom door every night."
"That's not going to make the cats very happy."
"Well, the cats can suck it. We're going to make this work somehow, Steve. Just you watch."
Tony's earnest enthusiasm was hard to resist. For once, Steve could almost believe that all of life's problems could be worked out so easily.
He leaned in to press Tony back against the bed.