A/N - Written for:
TropesAndFandoms20: Star square, trope In Vino Veritas;
Winteriron Month: SFW week Friday trope: Post-Breakup and Sunday dialogue: "did you just hiss at me?";
Harlequin Hoopla: Presents Feb 11: Wrong number;
and Trope Bingo Round 14, square I5: In Vino Veritas (again).
Ugh, I've been kidnapped again.
Whoever had grabbed him had obviously taken him out by giving him a strong whack over the head. There was no other reason for his head to be feeling as though his pulse was going to split it open…
A groan from nearby made him pause and reconsider. Was it possible that they'd kidnapped somebody else along with him? It seemed rather unlikely, unless they'd wanted someone to use as leverage against him so that he'd behave himself. But who had they taken?
What was I doing before they got me?
Every synapse firing made his head throb again, but he managed to cudgel together a rough timeline of . . . whenever it had been. He'd woken up wrapped around Ty, as usual, who'd been all but falling off the bed in his unconscious effort to get away – also as usual, but they never mentioned that. As Ty said, it's an UNCONSCIOUS action. I'm sure I just get too hot in the night, or too cramped, or something…
He'd headed into the office, trying to avoid his sneaky PA – oops, she was his CEO now, better remember that! – and the piles of paperwork she'd foist on him that demanded he sign his lifeblood away… Well, okay, maybe that was a tad bit dramatic, but he got the gist.
Then he'd had a text from Ty, right as Jarvis had urgently brought up a tabloid that was supposedly breaking headlines, and seen . . .
Oh.
Suddenly, everything fell into place. He hadn't been kidnapped. He'd just gotten absolutely black-out drunk.
We're through. It's not you, it's me—no, wait, it's not me, it's very definitely you. I'm afraid you've outlived your usefulness to me. Ciao, darling!
The headline his AI had shown him was about Ty – and his apparently several-month-old relationship with a twink of a boy who barely looked as if he were seventeen, never mind the twenty seven the article gave his age as.
Rhodey had turned up less than an hour later and they had retreated to his penthouse, with the entirety of the nearby store's alcohol aisle on its way not too long behind them.
"Ugghh." There came the sound of someone smacking their lips together in disgust. "Tony Stark, what the hell did you put in my mouth?"
"I think you'll find," Tony said, finally drawing the courage to gingerly crack open one eye, "that nobody but you made you down that Bombay Sapphire." Jarvis, bless his AI heart, had already darkened the windows, so no stray light ambushed him. Heartened by this, Tony carefully opened his other eye as well. Without moving anything else – because he swore he could hear his eyeballs breathing – he and Rhodey appeared to be sacked out on the floor of his penthouse living room. He could feel glass pressed against the back of one arm, and another couple of chunks were underneath one leg, but he couldn't quite tell if they were just glasses, or the actual bottles.
He suspected that, even if they'd started out using them, by the time they got themselves to this position, neither he nor Rhodey had been in any shape to use a glass.
Rhodey made a 'bleurgh' noise. "What possessed me?" he moaned. "I hate that shit."
Jarvis made a sound that conveyed a disdainful sniff with remarkable accuracy. "I believe your reasoning was, 'It's so pretty! That means it hasta taste good!'," he said.
"This is your fault, Tony," Rhodey said after a moment to process that. "This is one hundred percent your fault!"
Tony went to raise a forefinger in protest, but even tensing his muscle to move hurt, so he left his arm where it was. "Actually," he said, "I think you'll find it's all Ty's fault."
The memory of the day before – or several days ago? Tony hadn't quite figured it out yet – apparently abruptly returned to Rhodey. "That rat bastard," he growled. "You're definitely better off without him, Tones."
Tony sighed and shut his eyes again. That was probably true, but it didn't make the way it had happened hurt any less. Admittedly, this had been the third time he'd gotten back together with Ty, but he'd still had hope that this time it would work out.
Of course, now he hurt physically as well as emotionally, so maybe Rhodey had a point. Damn him.
"Sir, Miss Potts is on her way up," Jarvis abruptly announced. Tony groaned. Pepper was wonderful, he adored her, but she was not the kind of person one wanted to see the instant they woke up with the worst hangover anyone had ever had. Unfortunately, before he could tell Jarvis to divert her elsewhere – or at least delay her until he felt a little more human – the elevator gave a soft ping, and the clattering sound of the high heels Pepper favoured came across the wooden floor towards where he and Rhodey were still sprawled.
Tony deliberately kept his eyes closed, trying to avoid the waves of her disapproval that he could feel wafting in his direction.
"Honestly, Rhodey," Pepper sighed from above them. "You were supposed to be looking after him."
"And I did!" Rhodey protested. "I ensured that he didn't give himself alcohol poisoning by drinking every damn bottle himself!"
Silence. Tony was fairly certain that Pepper had folded her arms and was glaring at Rhodey. Apparently Rhodey had his eyes closed, too, because he didn't immediately shrivel into a small ball and squeak apologies to her.
Jarvis made the noise that was his equivalent of clearing his throat. "Excuse me," he said, "but Sergeant Barnes is requesting permission to enter the penthouse."
"Barnes?" Tony cracked an eye open again to squint at the ceiling. "What does he want?"
"I'm afraid I don't know, Sir. Shall I let him up so you can find out?" asked Jarvis, pointedly.
"Yes," Pepper instructed before Tony could even open his mouth. She switched that gimlet glare down to him, and Tony winced. "He'll be strong enough to throw you into the shower if necessary," she continued.
The faint sound of the elevator moving came before he could say yay or nay. Traitor! he mentally thought at Jarvis.
"Miss Potts," came Barnes' voice much sooner than Tony had expected. Had he zoned out again there? Or was Jarvis just that sneaky?
"Good afternoon, Sergeant Barnes," said Pepper.
Afternoon? Shit, how long were we passed out for?! Tony wondered. No wonder Pepper had been annoyed with them.
"I apologise that they aren't in the best of states," she continued.
Reluctantly, Tony rolled his head sideways. Barnes had managed to make it across the room without him noticing – although that wasn't exactly all that difficult right now – and was looking down at he and Rhodey with amusement. He was also carrying his phone in his hand.
"It's alright," Barnes assured Pepper. "I wasn't 'xactly expectin' any different."
"Oh?" Pepper raised an eyebrow at him. Barnes held out the phone towards her, and she studied it for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter. "Oh, I see," she said. "Well, then." She smiled at Barnes. "I shall leave you to it."
Tony wanted to protest as she turned and strode back to the elevator, but he wasn't entirely certain what he should be protesting, so he remained silent until another ping indicated that the elevator doors had closed behind her.
There was a shuffling sound from somewhere behind him. "Why do I suspect I will shortly be wanting another drink?" asked Rhodey. "Despite the fact that I don't actually want to see another drop of alcohol for, oh, at least another six months?"
Barnes dropped to a crouch beside Tony, tilting the phone so he could see it. It took a moment for Tony's eyes to focus on the screen. "You have seventeen missed calls," he read out loud. He frowned, puzzled. "Okay, and…?" he prompted.
Rhodey made a noise of realisation. "Oh my god," he spluttered.
"The voice mail might help," said Barnes, and thumbed a couple of buttons to reach the answerphone.
"—cancelling my calls, Jarvis, for fuck's sake! I think I know my own boyfriend's phone number, thank you very much!" It was obviously Tony's voice, and judging by the slur in his words, he was quite obviously several entire sheets to the wind. "Oh, it's on. Listen, Ty, buddy, compadre, just wanted to let you know that I'm grateful things are over. I mean, you obviously like 'em young – how old was I when you first slept with me? Fifteen? – so I'd rather not get caught up in something like that. I mean, I know I have a reputation, but I don't have a reputation, get me? And SI… jeez, Pepper'd kill me for bringing something like that to our doorstep. So yeah, thanks buddy, bullet dodged there. Whew!
"Also, re the usefulness, or lack thereof? Ty, old friend, old pal, just what exactly did you do for me, other than provide a relatively warm body at night? I mean, Jesus, you weren't even a good fuck, know what I mean? I know not everyone has my talent, but I can accept even marginally acceptable sex when necessary, but Christ, sex with you was just boring! Am I an actor, or am I an actor? Bet you never guessed that I was thinking of someone else.
"I mean, who wouldn't think of James Barnes? Have you seen all those images of him in uniform? Jeez." An odd noise sounded, and Tony realised that drunk-him had fanned himself at that point. He had an unfortunate idea of where this voice mail was going and tried his best to cringe back into the floor.
Unsurprisingly, it didn't work, and the voice mail carried on. Tony was vaguely impressed that it hadn't run out, yet.
"I've gotta say, Ty, I think you could take lessons from Barnes. He looks like he'd enjoy pounding a man through the mattress, or maybe up against a wall, or, well, anywhere really. And I bet he has his pick of people, too. Seriously, if that man ever gave me a sign, I'd be jumping his bones so fuckin' fast . . . eh, pun not intended." Drunk-Tony sniggered, then sighed in a distinctly longing manner. "God, what wouldn't I give to be able to lick his cock…?"
"Ugh, really, Tones?" came Rhodey's equally slurred voice in the background. "Did you really have to say that in front of me? I can't ever unsee that, man!" There was a muffled hissing sound. "Did you just hiss at me?" Rhodey demanded, indignantly. "Did you just try to shush me by hissing at me?!" There was the sound of a scuffle, and then a minor crash as though somebody had just fallen over a chair, or the sofa.
"Then it's just ten minutes of noise and fighting in the background," Barnes informed them, thumbing off the voice mail and straightening up. He grinned down at Tony. "What kind of sign would you prefer me to make?"
Tony gaped at him.
Rhodey groaned. "Ugh," he complained. "Really?! God damn it . . . Help me up, man. If you're gonna start making googly eyes at each other – or worse – then I don't wanna be around to see it!"
Obligingly, Barnes stepped over Tony and held out a hand to help haul Rhodey to his feet. "You may want to use another floor for a day or two," he suggested, still grinning. "Or, ya know, for a while."
Rhodey made a disgruntled sound and began hobbling his way towards the elevator. "Jarvis, you can inform Pepper," he said as the doors slid open for him. "I am not talking about it…"
Once he was gone, Tony stared up at Barnes, who gazed back down at him. He had to admit, it was an intriguing view. Barnes crouched down beside him again and offered a hand. "Sign?" he prompted.
Tony waited until he was sitting upright and sure that he wasn't going to empty his stomach contents all over Barnes – at least, not right then, anyway – before squinting at the other man. "Well," he said, "normally, I'd just lean right in and kiss you and wait for you to either kiss me back or haul off and smack me, but I don't think it'd be entirely pleasant at the moment—"
Barnes laughed. "How about you go brush your teeth and drink a lot of water," he suggested, "and then we'll see what kind of sign I can make."
Tony was suddenly immensely thankful that he'd apparently forgotten Ty's number. After all, with Barnes on offer, who needed what's-his-name?