Chapter Text
“Come on Hogan,” Lee whines, “how can you not see the beauty of this?”
“Perhaps there’s a reason I don’t,” Hogan quips bitterly, “have you thought about that?”
“That’s because you’re missing the big picture,” Lee stresses dramatically. He instantly spins to the side, turning his attention away from the brooding agent and setting his sights on the young brown-eyed boy who seems to be finding all of this amusing. “You see it, Tony. Don’t you?”
Tony opens his mouth to speak, broad smile giving Lee hope.
“Tony-” Hogan interrupts, giving the boy a stern look, “-does not have to make any decisions right now. He has enough on his plate, Lee. You know this.”
“Think about it, Tony,” Lee ignores Hogan altogether, stepping around the cluttered table in the 12th floor office to stand right in front of the boy. “If you take on this role, it will be a changing point in your career. You will begin to be viewed as more than just a pretty face, because let’s face it, you are.”
Tony chuckles, sitting further back in his seat as Lee moves closer.
“That’s enough Lee,” Hogan says, placing a hand between his client and the overly passionate producer to act as a barricade.
“You will be challenging the entire industry,” Lee goes on, “You will become the pediment of entertainment. Think about it.”
“It would stop the ‘bigot’ rumors about me,” Tony says thoughtfully.
“And it will start hundreds of homosexual ones too,” Hogan frowns. “Am I the only one who sees this?”
“I dunno,” Tony shrugs, “Jake Gyllenhaal did it.”
“Don’t forget Charlie Hunnam. But it gets even better with you. You will be a hero to scores of scared, young, closeted boys who think their sexuality is the end of the world.” Lee places his hands on Tony’s shoulders. Hogan stands abruptly, almost knocking down his chair. “They’ll look at you and they’ll say; Tony Stark…maybe there is hope after all. They look up to you, Tony. You are Tony Stark.”
“That’s really low, Lee,” Hogan roars. “You have no right putting that kind of responsibility on him.”
“Think of how many people you can save,” Lee continues.
“Tony, we’re leaving.”
“That’s the script?” Tony asks with a soft smile and a raised brow, pointing past both men to the thick, bound document on the disorderly table.
“Screenplay, screenplay,” Lee mumbles to himself, carelessly shuffling past it a couple of times before grabbing it and holding it in Tony’s direction.
“Tony, no.”
“I can read it and get back to you, right?” Tony asks as he holds the stack and views the title page.
“My phone is always on,” Lee insists, hope sparkling in his eyes.
“Thank you,” Tony stands, letting out his hand and trying not to pay attention to the venomous glare his agent is giving him. “You’ll be hearing from me.”
“You won’t regret this Mr. Stark.” Lee shakes Tony’s hand, shooting Hogan a triumphant look as he does.
*****
Tony shoves his baseball cap down over his flaring dark locks. His hoodie follows.
As much as Hogan hates it, Tony’s faded jeans look even more ripped than the last time he’d worn them and his once piercing white shoes are now grubby. Hogan wonders how he’s ended up with the one eighteen-year-old star who doesn’t detest wearing the same thing twice. But then, it is a reality, that with a face like Tony’s, nobody seems to care what the hell the rest of him looks like. Intense chocolate eyes perfectly placed below thick, healthy eyebrows. A perfectly straight nose above faultless heart-shaped lips.
Hogan remembers an article in a teen magazine where the journalist had written that Tony Stark could easily distribute his looks between ten guys and all of them would still be good-looking.
Hogan does’t doubt it.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Hogan steps into the elevator with Tony right behind him.
“C’mon, Happy,” Tony shrugs. “I never said I was going to do it.”
“You implied it.”
“I’m considering it,” Tony casually flips through the pages of the script.
Hogan finds himself trying to restrain from grabbing the manuscript and ripping it to shreds.
“Well it’s not happening,” Hogan states, matter-of-factly. “Your father would never allow it.”
“It’s my career, not his.”
“And who started it for you?”
Tony chuckles, diverting his gaze away from the dialogue of the opening scene, long enough to look at himself in the mirror. The elevator walls are lined with mirrors. The lobby is lined with mirrors. Tony knows it’s a clever trick to make rooms appear much larger than they really are, but it is beginning to annoy him.
Turning on the television to see himself. Walking past magazine racks to see himself. His face is on t-shirts and Coca-Cola billboards and all he ever thinks about is how ridiculous it all is.
“My dad started it,” Tony says casually, “but it’s mine now. I’m kinda sick and tired of being Robert Downey Jr. I mean, the show was great, the people were great but it’s over now. And you know what, everyone is expecting me to take on another role as the high school heart throb with good hair and a bad attitude, but I’m not gonna do that.”
“Well here’s something that might shock you a little, Tony,” Hogan scowls, “that is exactly all you can do. It’s what you were made for.”
“I need a challenge, Hogan.”
“You need to listen to me.”
Tony shakes his head as he steps out of the elevator. He can feel Hogan on his heel as he makes his way into the reception area. It became reflex a long time ago to pull his baseball cap down really low and stay hidden in the material of his hoodie whenever people walk past. It was annoying to him in the beginning, but now it’s just second nature, so as two little girls with their father come strolling towards the elevator, Tony stays veiled as best as he could.
It doesn’t work.
“Look, Daddy, its Robert Downey Jr,” one girl says, pointing a tiny finger at Tony.
The smiles on the girls’ faces are infectious and Tony finds himself grinning wildly despite himself.
“I’m sorry,” the father says as his daughters openly point and gasp in awe, “they’re just big fans of your show.”
“It’s alright,” Tony shrugs. He waves at them pleasantly and they eagerly wave back. When Tony shoots a look at Hogan over his shoulder, Hogan simply rolls his eyes. “Let’s see my father try and do that.”
“Smart-ass,” Hogan mutters and quickens his pace, leaving Tony to follow behind him.