Word count (this chapter): approx. 3200
-Chapter 8: At Last- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Bruce knows he's doomed when Tony looks nice hogging the blankets in their bed. They had walked home peacefully, checked on Bruce's mom, gave her some water, then messed around on the laptop for a while before settling down to sleep. Tony went out before Bruce, and Bruce made the mistake of trying to steal some of the blankets back after he did. When Bruce grabbed the corner of the blanket, its silk slipped and he slid forward, his face just above Tony's closed eyes and lips. That's when he notices it.
Tony is attractive.
Rather, Tony is attractive to Bruce. Obviously Bruce noticed in the past that Tony has something that pulls in girls if all Tony's bragging is anything to go by, but Bruce never felt the spark himself. Plus, he's never been one to like for looks. Not being a looker himself, he doesn't think he has any right to. Personality is far more appealing. And Tony has a hot personality.
The line of stubble on his chin and soft curve of his eyelashes aren't bad either. Bruce pulls away to his side, trying to tug some blanket with him and failing. He briefly entertains the idea of having a sexuality crisis, but realizes he maybe shouldn't have based his entire analysis of dick on Eric Kripke. Eric Kripke and Tony aren't even in the same league. Neither is Bruce, though. Being sixteen and in high school, Bruce figures the crush will go away in a few weeks. Tony's a great friend. That's what makes him attractive and is, controversially, why Bruce can't touch him. Not that he would stand a chance anyway. Tony yawns and rolls over, twisting the blanket with him and putting and arm around Bruce from behind and pulling him into his chest. Bruce might think something of it if he hadn't seen Tony do the same thing to a pillow a few minutes earlier.
Still, Tony's warm behind him, and maybe Bruce can give himself a treat for just one night. It's nothing that won't be gone in the morning, anyway.
Tony wakes up on the floor. Not while falling to the floor, but, literally, wakes up and is simply on the hardwood floor.
"Morning wood?" Bruce asks, peeking down from the bed. Tony throws a pillow at him.
"How the hell did I fall?" he asks from the floor.
"Well, you were spooning me again in my sleep, so I decided to take the noble course of action of shoving the kid with a heart condition onto the cruel, unforgiving floor. You know, before anything out of hand could happen. Protect my virtue" Is Bruce allowed to say that now that he likes Tony? Bruce doesn't want to censor himself. He would have said that, boner for Tony or not. Definitely.
"Define 'virtue.' …And 'anything.'" Tony stands up from the floor, his back making a vicious crack. "Afraid I'd take advantage of you in your sleep?"
"I was more afraid you would asphyxiate me." Bruce rubs his eyes and grabs his glasses from the nightstand, smiling as he puts them on.
"Ooh, kinky," Tony remarks and hops on the bed, leaning against Bruce's shoulder and saying into his ear, "Speaking of kinky," Bruce ignores the brush of breath on his earlobe, "there much of a shower scene around here? The only cleaning I've had all week were after gym class."
"Me too, though." Bruce gets out of bed to put some distance between them and get dressed. "And, um, not really. They're still under renovation for the pot addict trying to grow hash in the stalls a few months ago. We've called the landlord, but he kind of just hissed at us."
"Like a snake?"
"He actually has a pet snake," Bruce says, pointing in the air and remembering meeting at the landlord's house when he and his mom were first looking for apartments. "Really long, light-yellow thing."
Tony presses his lips together and shakes his head. "Wouldn't want to miss rent here," he says. Tony looks along the stale walls with paint chipping in the corners. "Or maybe I would. This place is beat-up, Bruce. Dangerous. You shouldn't be living here; It's probably how your mom got sick. Bad drinking water or something."
Bruce picks up his clothes from the floor and folds them into a pile on his dresser. "Our tap is fine, and if it bugs you so much, buy us a house."
Tony's face lights up, and he wriggles his finger, making non-literal connections. "Yes, I think I could do that."
"Tony."
"No, really. We have enough money—"
"You're not buying me a house," Bruce says dismissively form his dresser.
"When's your birthday?" Tony continues, ignoring him.
"July twenty-go-screw-yourself."
"Size preference?"
"Six and a half inches, and if you buy us a house, I am burning it down," he says. "And not taking the insurance." He combs his hair and waits for a strand to fall in his eye before remembering Tony got rid of it. He turns around and begs, "Tony, please do not buy us a house. I can't believe this is even a serious conversation."
"Bruce, please do not take anything I say seriously, ever. My dad would kill me if a hundred thousand just dropped from his account. I'm not that spoiled."
Bruce sighs and then looks at Tony sideways. "Who said you're spoiled?"
Tony counts on his fingers. "One, two, three, everyone?"
"Rich doesn't mean spoiled."
"Oh come on, I have my own labs. Plural. And I am only, what? Sixteen?"
Bruce shakes his head. "But your labs are being used to invent things and help people. It's not like you're asking for five new cars or a diamond necklace every day."
Tony looks away with something devious and droll hinting on his face. "Well, I did want this hot red convertible for my succulent sixteen—"
"Succulent?" Bruce questions with a smile. Tony walks to the mirror above his dresser next to him and begins to get ready himself.
"Girls are sweet; boys are succulent, clearly." Tony waits a minute before continuing. "Listen, Bruce. I appreciate you acting like I'm a good person, and I suppose I'm not half bad, but I am selfish, and I am spoiled. It's part of what makes me me. Everyone has bad habits they have absolutely no desire to change whatsoever," he adds with a shrug.
"They do not—," Bruce starts, but Tony is already hopping out the bedroom, throwing on a new shirt and yelling to Bruce that he's making eggs.
Tony's an awful cook, and always has been. Howard did the cooking for the family. Then mom died and Howard doesn't cook anymore. He hires people for that. So Tony never learned to cook, and he really can't cook. He knows this, but Bruce's mom is moaning on the couch, and he wants to immediately distract him from it, and maybe veer off sensitive subjects in the process. Looking at the pan, he realizes he kept the stove on 'ignite' and rushes over to turn it down, figuring burning the house down might not be the best way to relieve Bruce's stress. The eggs, however, don't burn, and when Bruce does come out and Tony peeks through the door-less doorway to him, the first thing he does is check on his mom. How are you doing? Feeling better today? Can I do anything to help? Tony sighs. He remembers hospital visits every day after school. Sometimes skipping to spend more time with her. He also remembers that the past is the past and he needs to grow up.
He plops a plate of eggs and toast on the table just as Bruce walks into the kitchen, and beckons Bruce over. Bruce stares from Tony to the stove, bemused, flips his arms up no-questions-asked and sits down in front of the food.
"So what disaster is this?" he asks. Tony slaps the back of his head with the spatula. "Hardly sanitary!"
"It's eggs, and this thing was hardly clean to begin with."
"Our dishwasher never works," Bruce protests.
Tony rolls his eyes and sits across from him with a plate of his own, and he and Bruce glance at the food and then each other. "You first," Tony says.
Bruce glares at him, and Tony motions for him to try a bite. He pokes the fried egg with his fork before cutting off a bite and trying it. He chews slowly. The anticipation in the room is palpable. Bruce swallows. "Well, it wasn't lethal. Except for maybe how much salt is in it."
"Still a victory!" Tony proclaims and starts on his own. It's not bad, but not anything special either. After a few bites and forgetting to swallow his food first, Tony says, "You have to try the Greek breakfasts our chef makes. Divine."
"Really? I bet."
"Yeah, it's—" Tony stops and clutches his chest, face scrunching together, a jolting pain stabbing under his ribs. "Shit, shit!"
Bruce jerks up, throwing his fork down, and hurries to Tony's side, putting his arms on Tony's back. "Hey, hey!"
Tony breathes heavy for a minute then shrugs him off. "I'm fine; I'm fine. Just ate too fast. Heartburn and all."
Bruce looks down at the eggs and says, "Or too much sodium. The doctors told you to avoid that. I'm such an idiot, I should have remembered—"
"Oh shut up Bruce Tapestry. You're not an idiot; you beat me out of top of the class freshmen year." Tony looks back at Bruce's hands still on his shoulder and back and smirks. "And you can get your hands off me anytime now." Tony hears Bruce sigh as he pulls his hands away. Tony looks at him defensively. "What? It's just heartburn. Happens to the best of us, and I am the best of everyone, so—"
"You been taking your medicine?" Bruce asks.
"Every-morning," Tony replies, tight-lipped. "You know that." He turns around in the chair so he's half-facing Bruce, putting a hand on Bruce's chest. Feeling the heartbeat. "Worry about your mom," he says after a minute. He pulls his hand off Bruce's chest. "Not me."
"Like that will happen," Bruce says but Tony doesn't hear it.
Two days later, Bruce watches Tony blazing through homework on the floor of his room as Bruce not-reads a book on the bed. The last few days, Bruce has spent a long time imagining what Pepper was like. "She used to," Tony'd said. Sadly. And not because he'd lost a lover, but because he'd lost a friend. For instance, what Bruce is. Tony Stark is lonely when it comes to friends. Bruce can recognize it from the look in his eyes when two boys in the hall are joking with each other, shoving each other's shoulders and calling each other pals. Bruce walks over and plops on the ground next to him.
"What we working on?"
"Calculus."
"Little advanced for a sophomore," Bruce says with a mocking grin.
Tony smiles.
"It okay if I bring a girl over? Feel free to tell me to fuck myself," Tony says two days later at school while they're walking down the hallway. Bruce sees Thor and Steve in the hallway, and waves at them. They're too busy talking to each other to notice, or maybe they decided they hate Bruce or always did secretly behind his back. Bruce blinks away the thought and turns to Tony.
"Would you hate me if I said you're gonna have to just go to her house?"
"Vaguely. Not really though," he adds, grinning. Bruce looks at Tony smiling a minute too long. If Tony's mind doesn't end world hunger, his smile sure as hell will. "So, I probably won't be going home tonight. Me and this cutie Peggy. Best part: I think Rogers has a crush on her."
"If Steve likes her, why would you sleep with her?"
"To piss him off. Duh." They round the corner to their chemistry class. "Besides, they're not even dating or anything. She doesn't have to sleep with me, you know."
Tony walks ahead of him, and Bruce rolls his eyes, adding quietly, "Like anyone could resist."
"Hm?" Tony asks as they sit down, dropping their books in front of them. "Say something?"
Bruce catches his tongue. "Ah shit, no. Nothing." The teacher starts lecturing about something Bruce and Tony mastered ages ago, so he whispers to Tony, "I just don't think you should do it with her. You could really hurt Steve. And that girl."
"One: the entire goal is too hurt Steve, and, two: it's common knowledge Tony Stark doesn't do relationships. Pepper made sure to tell every girl in school I didn't, along what an ungrateful asshole I am, but I did entirely deserve it."
"Why's that? Because you didn't like her back?"
Tony bites his lip and pretends to copy something from the board like he actually needs to learn it.
"Tony?" Bruce presses. Tony glances at him, then looks away with stress and guilt drooping his features.
"Because I made her think I did." Bruce raises a brow and Tony takes a breath in. "I like the attention. When people are attracted to me, I flirt back just for the ego boost. Pepper I dated, monogamous for half a year before I slept around like I always do. I guess I just like knowing I'm someone's everything. Or, at least, that they really like my face and ass."
Right now, with his mom sick, Tony is Bruce's everything.
Tony scoffs at himself and shakes his head. "Unfortunately, such behavior makes me pretty much untenable to be around. I'm a jackass to boys, and girls I can't keep my hands off."
"Sounds like you need to try putting your hands on a boy and being a jackass to a girl," Bruce quips. Tony shimmies into his shoulder and turns his head to whisper into Bruce's ear.
"How about I put my hands on you, Bruce Banner?"
Bruce shakes his head and pushes Tony away, ears tipping red. "Shut up—"
"Speaking of shutting up," their science teacher starts, and Tony and Bruce remain quiet for the rest of the period.
That night, Bruce receives a text from Tony.
add another tally mark bruce tapestry!
|| Tony 3-
Bruce almost misses the signature change, but then his smile falls and he doesn't.
At least, he figures, with Tony being with other people, it'll be easier for him to drift out of this phase. Bruce figures it will happen any time now.
A week later: still hasn't happened. What has happened, however: Bruce's mom healed and began working again; fixes on Stark manor's electronics were almost complete; and Steve Rogers punched Tony Stark so hard in the face both Stark's eyes were black.
"I told you not to screw her," Bruce says. They are lying on Bruce's bed, Bruce holding a bag of frozen peas over Tony's eyes. Tony sighs.
"I know I probably should have listened to you, but the look on Roger's face was worth it."
"If I didn't step in, he would have killed you. And with your heart condition, that wouldn't have taken a lot," Bruce adds.
"Christ, what are you, my girlfriend?" Tony says. Bruce pushes the peas aggressively into his face. Tony flails his arms up to pull them off. "Too much cold too quick, gah! Ok, ok, I'm sorry, man." He rubs his eyes and Bruce can't help but notice just how puffed out they are. "I should have listened to you." Bruce reaches down and touches the purple bags, pulling them apart so Tony can do more than just squint for a minute. "Bruce?" he asks.
Bruce pulls his hand back abruptly, averting his eyes. "It's really swollen. My mom is gonna freak out when she gets home. Should we call your dad?" His words come out too quick. He almost stutters.
"Howard doesn't give a shit; don't waste your calling minutes on it. You people have limited minutes, right?" Tony asks.
"The company doesn't charge us anymore, remember? And what was that about 'us' people?"
"You know, Welfare-checkers? Slumdogs?" Tony whispers the last one as though it is a swear: "Food-stampees?" Bruce picks up the bag of peas menacingly. Tony puts his fingers up in an 'X' over his face. "Sanctuary! Come on, show some mercy. Beggars can't be beaters!"
"That's it," Bruce says and jumps him, and now they're wrestling because hell if two black eyes or anything could ever stop Tony Stark. But maybe they can slow him down because this time Bruce gets Tony pinned to on the floor, his arms over his head and Bruce laughing into his chest. "You have no upper body strength, Stark."
"Shut up."
"Did you seriously think Steve wouldn't beat the shit out of you? You are a walking stick. Really thin. Sexy and all, sure, but—" Tony lunges. Bruce gives in and lets Tony put him back. They roll over a few times, vying for dominance, and then Bruce's leg brushes against Tony's crotch. Bruce is suddenly hyper-aware of every spot Tony's body is touching his. He realizes he is probably the worst crush-haver ever because he sometimes forgets he even likes Tony like that at all.
Bruce wriggles out from under him and calls time-out to use the bathroom, where he just sits for a while and washes his face with cold water. He checks and isn't hard, which is a good thing given he's only had time to jack off the night Tony was out with Peggy and a few times in the communal showers since Tony moved in. His tolerance for boners must be improving. Bruce realizes how inane that sentence and his whole situation really is. In love with one the richest, hottest kids on the planet. He looks himself in the mirror. Really hates all his features. His cheeks are too fat and his nose doesn't line up with his eyes. Face wrinkles when he smiles. Acne. He clears his head and turns away from the reflection and walks back out. Tony's sitting on the bed and from his face Bruce can tell immediately that something's wrong.
"Tony, what is it?"
Tony's cell phone is held limply in his hand and Tony looks at him. "Dad's outside. Repairs were finished early. He wants my shit and me packed and ready to go in a half hour." Then Tony's phone buzzes again and he adds, "And he does not want to hear 'any shit about it.'"
Bruce tries to say something but can't. After a minute, he finds his tongue.
"I'll… help you pack."
"Alright."