𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍§ 𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙽𝚈

𝟜.𝟚

* * * *

His plan would have probably worked better if he had stopped drinking at some point.

He remembered, albeit a bit vaguely, that he had put the armor on, dancing next to DJ-What's-His-Name, before ceremoniously tumbling off the stage and landing straight on his face. There had been scotch involved somewhere in between. A certain amount of scotch, and Tony didn't remember much afterwards. He only recalled being dragged away by two strong pairs of arms. Then there had been a pack of ice at his temple and ever since, he has been sitting suit-less on one of the couches on the far side of the room. He had no idea what time it was or what he must looked like—the party was still definitely going on around him, though. The music was too fucking loud and too fucking much and couldn't he just die now? If there was ever a good time for dying, it would be now. Now would be brilliant.

"I'm going to sit with him, you go have fun," a very female and very resigned voice said.

"I don't need to–"

"Go, Steve." The fierceness behind Pepper's voice left no room for discussions. It never did. "He just needs a second. No need for your night to be ruined."

He heard a deep sigh and then it was just the two of them. He leaned to the side, breathing in Pepper's sweet scent and nuzzling her neck. "I looove your freckles, have I told you that?"

That... probably had not been what Steve had had in mind by 'not leaving anything unsaid', but it was the thought that counted, right? At least he'd come clean in the freckle-department.

A long sigh shuddered through Pepper's lips. "You mean, before today? No. Today? About twenty-three times, Tony."

He waggled his brows suggestively. "I love them. They're preeettyyy."

She pursed her lips, moving forward until he was fully leaning against her, wrapping her free arm around his waist. He met her eyes tentatively, his lips quirking upwards into a grin. "I thought you were ignoring me."

"It's physically impossible to ignore you," she said softly.

"Good," he mumbled, settling in. It was so nice to be with her. Nice... and safe... and—not at all what he wanted.

God, this wasn't what he wanted.

His eyes darted over the crowd, focusing on Steve's every move. He was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink and talking to Rhodey of all people. They both had this extremely serious look going for them and Tony wanted to laugh, because he was so screwed if the three of them ever decided to team up on him.

He stared at Steve's back, always from afar and always at his back, and it was crazy. God, he knew this was crazy. He was dying, for fuck's sake. He couldn't fall in love now. His plan had been simple: get drunk, get courageous, and get closure. Tonight was supposed to be the night he settled all scores. He needed resolution; he needed solace... what he did not need was one more person he would disappoint by dying.

But he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting and couldn't tear them away from the prize at hand. The golden color of Steve's hair, the insane width of his shoulders, or anything that did everything to accentuate his masculinity and nothing to allegedly remind Tony that he was supposed to not even look at him.

Rather, his first thought was: I haven't had sex in months.

And that was the alcohol speaking—he was well aware of that. Sure, Steve had had his cock's attention from the start; but seeing him now, and running on both alcoholic confidence and the knowledge that he really had nothing left to lose, seemed to do little more than remind said part of his anatomy that it hadn't known any love in a long time—aside his left hand, maybe.

The same disobedient hand that itched to run down the front of his jeans to cup the bulge pressed against the zipper.

Fuck.

"God, I wanna tap that ass." Tony slurred, pointing his glass in Steve's direction. He looked so nice in that suit—so so very nice. Steve looked nice all the time.

Beside him, Pepper did a double-take. "You—what?" she asked disbelievingly, following his gaze.

"I–" He glanced at her and okay, this was awkward. His head was throbbing, he couldn't really remember where they'd left off the last time they had seen each other, and if it was horribly inappropriate to say stuff like. It didn't use to be. "Steve. He's attractive. That's all," he finally decided on. Attractive wasn't so bad. He was allowed to find a guy handsome.

Pepper stared at him numbly but not unmoved. He knew for the way her mouth fell open, closed, opened again. "So you are..."

Tony waited patiently, and when she didn't go on, he raised an eyebrow at her. "Openminded? Bi? Poly? Occasionally into dicks? Well, yeah."

She offered a nervous laugh. "I didn't know that—at all. How could I not know that?" she asked.

"Well, it's not exactly Wikipedia knowledge."

"But you never... in all these years..." Their gaze held for a minute longer before she broke away, her body wrought with tension. "Does James know?"

He snickered. "I guess he got the drift when I tried to go down on him in college, yes." Pepper groaned in the way that said he was doing the oversharing-thing again. "Although he probably thinks that was just a phase. I haven't really done that in a long time. Always been more of a ladies man... when you see a room full of pretty dresses it's rare to notice someone in a tux."

Except for Steve. Steve in a tux made everyone around him fade into darkness.

Her gaze darted into the room again. "And Steve..."

He waited for a second, but she didn't continue. Rather, she reached for the glass of whatever she was drinking and took a long sip. "Does he reciprocate?" she asked then, pretending to be casual. Pretending that nothing had changed. But it was hard not to notice that her voice wavered a bit.

Fuck, he really should've stopped with the hard booze at some point.

"There is nothing to reciprocate," he assured her, and he wanted to grab for her hand, but he didn't want to give mixed signals. Not more than he already had. "I don't want to marry him. Well, I wouldn't mind blowing him, or him blowing me, really, I'm not picky but that's about it. And no, I don't know if he swings that way. He won't tell me." That probably came out a bit whiny.

Pepper nodded slowly, her eyes darting back to Steve and Rhodey. They were now talking to a gorgeous redhead in a flimsy black dress and shit, Steve looked so comfortable around her. The usual tenseness of his shoulders was completely gone and he was even slightly leaning in towards her. The woman's gaze was very fond when she put a hand on Steve's cheek.

That was probably answer enough whether or not Steve returned his feelings.

"For what it's worth I think he might." Pepper said, contradicting his thoughts, and sat up slightly. She leaned in and pressed a kiss on Tony's cheek. "I'm going to go home now."

"Pep," he said, because drunk or not, he couldn't let her go like that. "You mean everything to me, you know that, right?"

Pepper smiled and reached for his hand, a long shudder coursing through him when their fingers entwined. "I know," she whispered, her thumb gently rubbing over the back of his hand. And then she was gone, just like that.

There seemed to be some kind of rotation going on, because a minute after Pepper left, it was Rhodey's turn to stand at his side. His I-Am-Done-With-Your-Shit demeanor didn't quite reach the silent-accusation-level of Steve's Disapproving Frown (yes, the moods Tony inspired in people were always Capital), but it was a close call.

"Want somethin' to drink?" he asked.

"Bottle of water?"

Rhodey snorted. "It's cute that you think I would get you anything else. Hold on a sec."

He was gone for a moment, and when he came back he tossed him a pack of what seemed to be Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, followed by a chilled bottle of water.

There were reasons why Rhodey was his favorite.

He immediately pried open the pack of Reese's—cramming one into his mouth. "You know," he said thoughtfully. "This wasn't so bad. Well, Pepper might never speak to me again, but the house is still standing, no holes in the ceiling, no broken windows, people seem to be having fun..."

"...you nearly puked on DJ AM." Rhodey filled in.

Tony snorted, and took a long sip of the water, knowing full well that he would be having the motherfucker of all headaches tomorrow if he didn't. He cleared his throat, eyes pointedly set on the floor. "So, I thought about giving you one of my suits," he said matter-of-factly.

As expected, Rhodey stopped dead next to him. He seemed to be having that effect on people tonight. Then, he looked at him for a long, quiet moment—his eyes dark and contemplative. His gaze flickered towards the empty glasses on the table. "You're drunk."

Tony arched an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He grinned at that. "Good point."

Tony leaned to the side, his head resting on Rhodey's shoulder. "You're only getting the Mark II, though. You know, the crappy silver one."

Rhodey nodded with a small smile. "Whatever you say, Tones."

They were quiet for a long minute. Tony stared through the big glass windows into the open night. The music was still loud, but there were fewer and fewer people around. He still didn't know what time it was. "I was lying," he said then, because he couldn't bear the silence. "It's not crappy. It's awesome. All of my suits are awesome."

Rhodey chuckled soundlessly.

"One condition."

"I'm listening," Rhodey replied quickly.

"You'll be the only one flying it. I won't program it into it, in case there's an emergency, but you'll have to promise me."

Rhodey nodded absentmindedly, his gaze turning inward. He was probably mulling over all the discussions and hearings he would have to go through to enforce Tony's will. "Yeah, I promise," he said finally, and Tony knew he meant it.

Tony clapped Rhodey on the back, trying to stand up. "Good talk, buddy." His head was still spinning, but he probably would be able to drag his old man's body upstairs and into his bed.

"Tones," Rhodey called quietly. "If there is something you want me to know—you can tell me everything, I won't judge you, you know that right?"

Tony stopped and, well, there was his opening. He could just turn around and say it. Say, I am dying. But he didn't. Instead he shrugged sheepishly. "I have the hots for my new PA."

Rhodey stared at him for a minute straight. "You mean, the blond guy I was talking to earlier? Steve?"

"Yep."

"You have the hots for him."

"Yep."

"That was your big secret." Despite his nod, Rhodey did not look convinced. The frown marring his brows left little to the imagination.

"And here I am, telling you." He waved a hand expansively. "It's so good to finally have it out there, man. Thank you."

Rhodey paused, like he wanted to say something profound. Say something that meant more than the dance of shallow talks they'd been performing around each other lately. The notion faded the next second. He probably knew that Tony wasn't honest with him, and either decided that he needed to come around himself, or that he just wasn't worth the trouble. Anyway, things were undeniably easier when kept to known terrain. Tony knew this as well as anyone.

"I'm..." he started, trailing off again. "I'm there for you, if you want to talk about," his gaze swapped towards Steve, "your crush. Or whatever else that's bugging you."

Suddenly, there was a lump in his throat the size of California. "Sure thing, Rhodes..."

The silent hurt in Rhodey's eyes struck a nerve, and sure, he knew he was being unfair, but he didn't have the strength to offer explanations. Explanations led to discussions, and discussions led to a world of no. After a moment, Rhodey clasped his shoulder a final time, standing up. Tony watched him leave through the crowd and when he looked over to the bar, his eyes met Steve's piercing gaze. The woman was gone now. Steve was alone, looking for all the world like there was nothing he wanted to do more than come over here and kiss him.

God, he really needed another drink.