(AN: Once again, I apologise for the delay, I ended up having to cut a lot of what I'd originally written as it was just going back over the previous chapter and it was quite a lot of filler. Also unexpected real life events happened. Anyone who's curious, I'm happy to tell privately. P.s - new art on my tumblr.)

Chapter Seventeen

Tony's heart was pounding.

He wasn't sure what it was about being punched in the face that got his blood going, aside from the sheer agony of having his jaw dislocated, but once that was all fine and dandy, his heart was still pounding in his chest, and somehow he'd ended up pinning Shadow to the floor of the workshop.

He was suddenly very aware of his weight on top of Shadow, and the fact that the clunker he had taken to the head seconds beforehand should have knocked him out, but he merely appeared dazed. Making what excuses he could, about eyes and his mouth babbling something his brain wasn't entirely sure about, he eventually got to his feet and before he knew it, they were heading up to the penthouse to drink beer.

Tony really didn't know what was wrong with him, although he had the feeling it might have had something to do with the quarter bottle of vodka he'd consumed before Shadow had found him and robbed him of his whiskey, then added several beers on top of that, but for most of JAWS all he could think about was Shadow, and how his lips wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle, his tongue pressing on the underside of the glass as he took a drink.

His heart was pumping so hard he wasn't sure if it was going to come out of his chest.

What's wrong with you? You like girls.

Ok, that was a little lie. Tony generally liked girls. He was a huge fan of boobs, boobs were definitely in his top ten favourite things in life, but there'd been some fumblings in college, and a few unreturned phone calls to Johnny Depp, just to see if he could.

Maybe it was the mystery, of not knowing anything about Shadow besides a name and a smattering of things like, he liked monster movies, and he was English, and at one point lived in Harlem. Or maybe it was the mystery of not knowing what his face looked like, because that was slowly driving him insane too.

Or maybe it was none of those things. Maybe it was him punching him square in the face, fuck knows Tony had indulged in more kinky stuff than that over the years. Maybe it was because Shadow seemed so thoroughly unimpressed that he was sitting and drinking beers with Tony Stark. Tony Stark. Usually that name was enough to have a woman dropping her knickers in front of him, but Shadow seemed to genuinely not give a shit who he was.

And that was pissing him off too.

When Shadow got up to use the bathroom, only then did Tony realise how closely they'd moved towards one another in their seats, Shadow had moved as much as he had, he hoped he hadn't imagined that.

Something took over Tony, a deep, lonely ache inside him, in reality he was still mourning for the loss of Pepper so he had no idea how his feet has brought him to the bathroom door, images of him pushing Shadow up against the wall, - if he'd let him, the dude was strong - and kissing him fiercely on the mouth and he'd just pushed this mental image from his brain, with the intent of turning and going back to sit on the sofa, when the door opened and he was caught, and they'd ended up doing the "excuse me, no excuse me," - dance, back and forth, before he'd finally got inside to splash cold water against his face and maybe bring back a little sanity.

He returned to the sofa, and after un-pausing, and re-pausing the movie, cursing at himself for the way he was acting and the thoughts going through his head. Shadow clearly confused by the situation.

What are you doing? You complete idiot! You are Tony Stark, you are Mr Smooth, what are you worried about? Ruining a potential friendship? You have Bruce. When was the last time you actually wanted to kiss someone? Someone who wasn't Pepper? You swore to yourself you'd do something about it. Besides, you can afford a little sexual harassment suit if it comes to that. He's staring at you, stop talking to yourself inside your own head and dosomething.

So he looked at Shadow, and said, "Oh, fuck it, we're not friends anyway." He moved towards Shadow and put his hands around his face, pressing his lips to Shadows thin ones, then he found himself being shoved backwards with a huge force, landing on the coffee table on his ass, knocking over empty beer bottles and sending them everywhere.

Shadow stood to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, saying nothing and then silently walking to the elevator, pressing the call button.

Shit. You idiot.

Tony stood up, "Shit," he said out loud this time, "Puck, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

His hand began frantically pressing the call button, he could not get away from Tony fast enough.

"Puck, seriously, man, I'm sorry," said Tony, "I don't know what came over me, I'm like a complete twat, a complete, drunk, twat. I'm sorry."

More frantic button pushing.

"Puck, will you say something, please?" said Tony, "tell me to go fuck myself or, something, Jesus."

The elevator doors opened and Shadow practically threw himself inside keeping his back to Tony until they had closed again, Tony growled in frustration, now feeling horribly sober and embarrassed that he'd kissed a guy who hadn't invited him to, a guy he was, for all intense purposes, keeping prisoner, even if the cell doors were kept open.

"Shit," said Tony and then he kicked the coffee table as hard as he could, sending it rolling a feet across the room and instantly breaking his foot in the process. He screamed in agony and held his leg as he dropped into the sofa.

"JARVIS!" he shouted, "CALL BRUCE AND TELL HIM TO GET HIS ASS UP HERE NOW."

The computer complied, and Tony had no choice but to curl into a ball on the sofa, holding his leg, for thirty, long, agonising minutes until the elevator for the penthouse pinged again and Bruce came rushing inside, spotting the upturned coffee table and the beer bottles everywhere, then looked down at Tony.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, kneeling down beside him.

"I kicked the coffee table," said Tony, "I think I've broke my foot."

"Why would you kick the coffee table?" asked Bruce, and he grabbed Tony's arm, hooking it over his shoulders and pulling him up, so that Tony could lean in and hold onto him, as he hopped over to the elevator.

"Er," said Tony, clinging onto Bruce, hopping as Bruce opened the doors and helped him inside, "I might have done something, really, really stupid."

"Oh, Tony," said Bruce, hitting the button for the medical floor, "you didn't drunk dial Pepper did you?"

Drunk dialling, let's go with that.

"I might have drunk dialled Pepper," said Tony, well, it wasn't exactly a lie per say, he might have drunk dialled Pepper, ok he didn't but he could have.

"Tony," said Bruce, shaking his head, "what am I going to do with you, buddy? Can't I leave you alone for a few hours?"

"Apparently not," said Tony, "though if it makes you feel any better, I was drunk on quite strong, import beer, and I'm horribly sober now."

"You know, that does make me feel better," said Bruce, "that makes me feel a lot better actually."

They went down to the medical floor and Bruce inspected his foot, Tony insisted on not going to the real hospital since they had everything they needed aside from an x-ray machine which Bruce wasn't happy about as he said it might have to be pinned, but Tony put his proverbial foot down, since his actual foot hurt too much and Bruce gave him painkillers, strapped it up and ordered him to have bed rest for a few days, then get about with crutches when he was able.

x-x-x

"So what did Fury say?" asked Bruce a few days after the coffee table kicking incident, when Tony was heading down with him in the elevator to the workshop.

"Fury angry," said Tony, "Fury smash."

"Yeah, I thought that might have been his reaction," said Bruce, "you better hope and pray that nothing happens in the next few weeks because there's no way you're going to be able to properly operate your suit until you can bend your foot properly."

"Tell me something I don't know," said Tony, "I built the damn thing, I know how it works, quit nagging me."

He felt so embarrassed with himself over the incident with Shadow, that he still hadn't told Bruce about, and had absolutely no plans to, since having Bruce continually mock and chide him over it did not seem like the most fun thing to do. So when Fury had asked him for his one month assessment on Shadow and Spider-man's probation, Tony had given the most glowing report in the history of all glowing reports.

Shadow had done no wrong, Shadow could not be more perfect, Shadow was a totally legitimate guy just trying to watch out for his little brother and the likelihood was that in a couple of years they'd both disappear and they'd never hear from them again.

Fury had taken Tony's assessment under advisement and made mention to a possible field testing observation that left Tony feeling a bit sick as there was no way he'd be able to talk Shadow into doing one of those, not now.

The elevator doors opened on the workshop floor and they both stepped off, it was exactly as it had been left after Shadow had punched him and dislocated his jaw and the smashed bottle of whiskey was still in pieces on the floor by his main work bench.

Bruce eyed it suspiciously, "What happened there?"

"I knocked the bottle off the table," said Tony, "that's why I switched to beer."

Bruce seemed to accept this and went to a utility closet and retrieved a broom to sweep up the pieces of broken glass. The sight of the broom flashes a memory in Tony's mind, the reason that Shadow had come down to the workshop in the first place.

He felt more guilty. Here he was, a billionaire, infinite money at his disposal, all the best toys, if something was broken he could repair it or replace it, he had an entire tower of playthings at his fingertips, then there was Shadow, some guy who'd changed his entire life to look after his kid brother after his parents had been killed, struggling to get by, trying to do the right thing, had hardly seen any movies, only had one book and from Tony had seen, no more than 3 sets of clothes if that. Going onto the streets every night to fight muggers and stop car thieves and break up bar fights, putting his life in danger and all the while, all he had to protect himself with was a broom handle. And Tony, had told him he couldn't even borrow the use of one of his tools to repair it.

Tony was a shit.

He could not deny it, what a complete and utter shit he'd been to the guy. And then he'd kissed him, oh god, what the hell had he been thinking? He owed Shadow big time.

"Jarvis, new project," he said.

"What?" said Bruce, putting the broom away, "what new project? We've got attack bot stuff to get on with."

"Ah, it won't take long," said Tony, "besides we're getting nowhere with this stuff and I could use the break. We're just going round and round in circles on it, we really suck, we might have to admit defeat soon."

"Well, what did you have in mind?" asked Bruce.

Tony told him, only skipping over the details behind his motivation. Bruce left in the evening, to head out to the unit for trauma out-patients to do, whatever the hell it was Bruce did when he went there, Tony wasn't sure, but Tony kept working and by the time Bruce returned around 10, Tony actually had a working prototype constructed.

"Ok!" said Tony, pleased with his work and handing it to Bruce, "you try it out."

"Why me?" said Bruce, picking up the item which looked like a black baton.

"Because I'm trying to stand on crutches here," said Tony.

"Fine," said Bruce, and he twisted the middle ring in the centre of the baton, the ends flew out and he tested how solid they were by knocking them on the floor. "It looks like it works fine to me."

"Fantastic," said Tony, hobbling towards the elevator, "Well, I spoke to Fury today, so you can go drop it off in Shadow's room for him."

"Me?" said Bruce, turning and staring at him in disbelief, "why me? He hates me."

Not as much as he probably hates me right now, I'm sure.

"Well, it'll help put you in his good graces," said Tony, the elevator doors opened and Tony hobbled inside and hit the button for the penthouse, "GOOD LUCK!" he shouted as the doors closed, leaving Bruce standing there seething.