A/N: Yeah, I know, thousands of them. Had to be done still.
Not Crazy
The vibrant green numbers on the clock on his nightstand showed 12:24 a.m. Bruce took off the glasses, ran a hand over his face and put away the book he'd been reading for the tomorrow History test. It was too late, and he doubted he will actually remember anything at this rate. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, smirking along the way as a thought came to his mind that he was probably the only one studying right now. Most of his class was now undoubtedly drinking away margaritas at the ridiculously lavish birthday party at Tony's house.
Not that he wasn't invited, mind you, because he was. Tony stated explicitly (and more than once) that Bruce was welcome at his home anytime, especially today, but Bruce had to politely decline. Such large gatherings of almost-strangers tended to exhaust him rather quickly, and he definitely wasn't in the mood for getting drunk.
A sharp buzz cut through the air and made Bruce flinch in surprise.
He spat the lather into the sink and wiped the corner of his mouth with a towel before heading out for the door. The buzz hasn't stopped for a second though, as if someone pressed the doorbell and forgot to take the finger away. Bruce took a quick look through a sight hole, shook his head and opened the door.
"Tony?" he said, and his tone sounded much more like an accusation than an honest question.
"Heeey Bruce, how ya doin' there?" Tony drawled, finally letting go of the doorbell.
"Are you drunk?" Bruce sighed, even though the answer was pretty obvious.
"Who, me? Naaaah," Tony grinned and swung a hand in a gesture of denial, but lost his balance halfway through and would have toppled right there in the doorframe if Bruce haven't reached out and caught him by the shoulders.
"For the love of… come on, get in quickly," he said, urging his friend inside and closing the door with his foot. "Sit," he instructed after landing Tony on the couch without much grace and moving towards the kitchen area. "I'll get you some water now, it'll help."
"Don't you have, like, s'me beer there?"
"Don't you think you've had enough?"
"No."
Bruce took a bottle of water from the fridge, unscrewed the cap and handed it to Tony. "Drink. You're so lucky Susan's already left for the night shift, she so wouldn't have liked you like this."
Tony took a couple of long moments to gulp the water, then a couple more to fumble while trying to set the bottle on the coffee table without knocking it over with his own fingers. Only after he was completely satisfied with the bottle's position and steadiness did he look at Bruce with a grin on his face.
"Pshh, your aunt loves me, Brucey. She's so kiiind and niiice, just like my mom… could've been," he added bitterly, then sighed and fell back on the cushions of the couch, throwing back his head, staring at the ceiling. "I think I'm in love with her."
"Your mom?" Bruce asked in confusion as he sat near Tony.
"No, Susan."
"But you have just told me you think of her as a mother figure," Bruce said, an amused tone to his voice. "Isn't being in love with her making it all a little weird? Like, Oedipus complex weird?"
Tony slowly rolled his neck on the back of the couch until he faced Bruce. His eyes were squinted, and his lips were moving soundlessly as if trying to start a sentence but never quite going through with it.
"I don't follow you," he finally said, his expression tired and a little suspicious.
It only made Bruce remember how tired he was himself, and he ran a hand over his face, trying to pry out some answers from the boy before he completely checked out for the night.
"Aren't you supposed to be throwing some kind of giant party at your place right now?"
"Sure. 'Tis still going on, I think. Like, lots of people."
This was not quite as substantial an answer as Bruce hoped to hear, but the phrasing and the sour look on Tony's face told him everything he needed to know.
"I take it Mr. and Mrs. Stark aren't there though?" he asked carefully. They left for some business trip a week before, but promised to return for the birthday, and even though Tony actively pretended he didn't give a damn one way or the other, Bruce knew the other boy had eagerly awaited their return up until that very morning.
"We are very sorry, Tony, but these investors are of extreme import'nce for the company, and our presence is absolutely required," Tony slowly articulated with all the precision he could manage. His face was a scowl, and he reached for the bottle on the table to take a large swig, and almost started coughing when the liquid in it turned out to be only water.
"I'm sorry they couldn't make it, Tony," Bruce said softly. "I'm sure they did their best to get home but just…"
"Whatever," the boy interrupted. "Yanno, sometimes I kinda envy you with the whole 'no parents' thing, like, just being a fucking orphan and not having to put up with this bullshit, like who the fuck do they think they are, like…" he went on until his eyes landed on Bruce, and he saw something on his friend's face (something Bruce was already trying to cover up) that made his eyes go wide and his voice break in a stutter as he reached out clumsily to grasp Bruce's shoulders. "Shit, fuck, no, Bruce, not like that, don't be- I didn't mean it like that, I mean…"
"I know, Tony. It's alright," Bruce forced a smile on his face and tried to gently get Tony's hands (and his sickening, alcoholic smell) off himself.
Tony let out an exasperated groan as he flopped back on the cushions and closed his eyes with his hand.
"I just… I should, like, stop caring or whatever, but it still… sucks, I dunno…"
"Of course you care. They're your parents," Bruce said, getting up and walking once more towards the kitchen area.
"Please, Brucey," Tony raised his voice slightly, but did not move his head. "I think by now you are more of a parent t'me then they are."
"Don't be ridiculous," Bruce said tiredly and put a plate and a fork on the coffee table in front of Tony. "Now, eat it. It is chicken, and yes it is cold, it's supposed to be cold, so come on."
"What, no cake?"
"No, Tony, there's no cake."
Tony stared at the dish for a couple long moments before raising his big, pleading eyes on Bruce.
"I don' wanna."
"Do you want to have a hangover tomorrow instead?" Bruce asked. Tony frowned, as if actually considering this, so Bruce just sighed and pushed the plate a little closer to the other boy. "Just eat it, Tony. Was there no food at the party?"
"It was a party," Tony said acidly, but took the fork and started to break the meat into small bits. "It had drinks."
"Why did you leave then? More importantly, why did you come here?"
Tony took some time to stuff his mouth with chicken, but didn't bother to chew it before he started talking. "It was just all so dull. Like, all those guys and girls and that dog… thing and their stupid bullshit, it was just so dull and boring and… dull."
"As opposed to me?" Bruce chuckled lightly. Tony never passed an opportunity to point out just how 'boring' Bruce was himself with his 'glasses and books, and introvertedness, and the whole boring-ass shtick'.
The other boy just shrugged, wolfing down the chicken with somewhat comical single-mindedness.
"Where's your remote?" he asked suddenly, looking at Bruce, his cheeks full and all chipmunk-like.
"Here," Bruce handed him the device, and Tony stared at it in abject confusion before his eyebrows shot up and he pressed the 'on' button with utmost care. The television flicked to life at that, and formed a picture of some TV-show or another, with some woman punching some man in the face.
"Ooh. Get 'im, girl!" Tony cried out in encouragement, bits of chicken and spittle flying out of his mouth. "This show's craazy."
"What is it?"
"Hell if I know. You sure there's no beer?"
"Yes, Tony, I'm sure."
Tony finished off the last of the chicken and looked at the empty plate with a grimace.
"I'm pretty sure 'm gonna throw it all up later."
"It's quite possible," Bruce agreed.
For some time Tony just sat there, staring blindly at the screen.
"It's my birthday t'day," he said quietly after a while.
"Happy birthday, Tony."
"I'm seventeen. Yanno, if I actually listened to ol' Howard and applied to emm-eye-tee after the middle school I'd be now graduating it. Huh."
"You regret staying for the high school?"
There was another pause before Tony spoke. "Yeah. It's just so… slow and dull and stupid. Like, I can talk all I want, but I can't talk to them," he shook his head. "Don't it just make you wanna scream s'metimes?"
"No," Bruce lied with a smile.
Tony leaned a little closer to Bruce at that, looked right into his eyes and frowned, as if in confusion. "How d'you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Y're just as smart as I am," he said in an incredulous tone. "Smarter, maybe…"
"It only seems like that because I talk less."
"Nah, y're like…" he struggled for words, tried to fish them out of thin air with wide swipes of his hand. "Y're not crazy," he finally said in a loud exhale, shaking his head from side to side.
"What?"
"No, y're not, like, they say that but they don't know you…"
"Who's saying what?" Bruce frowned.
"Yanno, like when I came here, and they were saying y're like local nutjob and you like tried t' blow up your school and killed your parents with a knife or s'mething and police couldn't prove a thing and they just don't care, yanno, but y're not crazy, Bruce," Tony shrugged after delivering the whole sentence in one swift, somewhat garbled breath.
For a minute or two Bruce just stared. It was true that he was a loner and kept to himself, and that it probably gave people a lot to speculate about, but…
"Thanks," he whispered at the other boy in bewilderment.
Tony made no indication that he heard what Bruce has said, all of his attention on the TV-screen where the girl from before was now having coffee with the guy she previously punched.
"I don' think I know what this show is about," Tony said after some time.
Bruce sighed and looked at the time. It was almost 1 a.m.
"I think it's time for you to sleep, Tony. Come on," he said, getting up from the couch and extending a hand for his friend. "Did you tell anyone you were coming here?"
"Yeah, told Jarvis. No police won't be coming over, no worries…" Tony took the offered hand, jerked himself upwards and lost all balance immediately afterwards, falling back on the couch and almost dragging Bruce along. He let out a laugh that quickly descended into a giggle, so light and infectious that it made Bruce chuckle in turn.
"Great, 'cause really, the last time was pretty enough for me," he grinned and helped Tony get up once again. Taking a firm hold of his shoulder, he carefully guided the boy to the bedroom and sat him down on the bed. "Take off your shoes before you lie down."
Tony looked around the room with a (what now felt like permanent) confused scowl before setting his gaze on Bruce.
"Wait wait is this your room?"
"No, Tony, it's a guest room," Bruce sighed.
"Nooo, it's yooour room," Tony drawled, pointing an accusing finger at Bruce, "I know it, like, these are your glasses, and that is the poster of that guy, what's-'is-name…"
"Yeah, you got me, Tony, this is my room," Bruce threw his hands up in defeat. "Now, take off your shoes and lie down."
"An' where you gonna sleep?"
"In the guest room, Tony," Bruce said softly. It seemed enough to convince Tony, so he proceeded to shrug off his jacked, fold it (or try to with questionable success) over the headboard and toe off his snickers before flopping on his back with exaggerated tiredness and a loud huff. Bruce also found it funny how Tony noticed that Bruce was lying about it being the guest room, but did not seem to remember that Bruce's apartment had no guest room to begin with.
"Yanno, you can be scary s'metimes," Tony said to the ceiling. "I mean, y're kinda like a grown-up, an' y're fucked up but 're a good guy. Like, how are you not an asshole like me?"
For a second time this evening Bruce was taken aback. It was definitely not the first time he saw the other boy drunk (not even the first time Tony barged into Bruce's home in that condition), but it was the first time he saw him get so verbal and… candid while under the influence.
"You're not an asshole, Tony," Bruce said in the same soft manner. And I'm not a good guy, he wanted to add, but stopped himself. This evening was about Tony's problems, not his.
"Oh I am. I am a baaad guuuuuy, Bruceeeeey!" Tony wailed at the top of his lungs, and Bruce cringed, conscious of the late hour and the possibility of disgruntled neighbors. "I'm such an ass," he added helplessly.
"Tony…" Bruce started, then waved a hand in front of Tony's face to get the boy's wandering gaze on himself again. "Tony. We've known each other for almost a year, right? During all that time, was there ever an instance in which you were an ass and I didn't call you out on it?"
Tony squinted and looked like he was actually giving this question some thought.
"No," he finally said. "Y'can be really annoying that way."
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, and now I'm telling you, Tony Stark, that you are not a bad guy, okay? You are not a bad guy."
"Okay," Tony said, sounding unsure, like he was saying it more for Bruce's benefit.
"Now go to sleep," Bruce heaved a sigh that was dangerously close to a yawn. "See you tomorrow."
Tony mumbled something unintelligible under his nose as he turned to the side and cocooned himself in a thick woolen blanket, and Bruce walked quietly out of the room. The whole situation was weird, but he tried to pay it little mind: after all, come morning, Tony will probably forget at least half the things he blabbered today. And if not, then he will probably pretend so either way.
Bruce was too tired to overthink it. He spread out the couch that was usually Aunt Susan's bed, threw a blanket on it and walked towards the wall to turn off the light. As he was putting his hand on a switch, he heard some shuffling from the bedroom, and a sleepy, unsteady shout, muffled by the wall and, most certainly, a layer of blanket.
"AND THE CHICKEN WAS GOOD, BRUUUCE! YOU HEAR ME, IT WAS REALLY GOOD!"
A/N: So, in this one, Tony never went to MIT, but instead transferred to a school Bruce was already attending. And they became bros, like, instantly. And yeah, there was a time when Tony got ridiculously drunk, that resulted in a police squad barging into Bruce's apartment in the middle of the night, and it was not funny at all.
I really hope my attempts at humor did not scare you away, so, please, leave a comment if you have time.
Next time in Kaleidoscope: Family!