Work Text:
Diners having long since departed, the restaurant is still, lit only dimly, quiet but not quite silent. The ebb and flow of animated but indistinct voices filters in from the kitchen, punctuated by the occasional laugh and the clatter of plates and silverware.
There’s a smile on Tony’s face as he shuffles through the papers spread out across the table before him. He’s happy for them. Proud of them.
Of Adam.
He had tried not to think about Adam, in the years since Paris, tried to convince himself the rumors of his death were true and there was no point dwelling on the past. On the could-have-beens.
Tried to convince himself he didn’t care.
And then Adam fucking Jones had had the audacity to reappear in his life with a smile and a plan and the unwavering belief that Tony would bend to his will.
Tony had, of course, capitulated. With embarrassingly little coercion.
And now Adam is back, is here, an inescapable presence, and Tony should have fought harder, and he shouldn’t be happy.
But it had been so easy to forget - amidst the anger, the grief, his father’s illness, the daily routine of running a restaurant - that it was only when Adam was around that he truly felt alive.
Even if what he really wanted would always remain just out of reach.
“What are you doing in here?”
Tony startles, the subject of his thoughts suddenly made manifest before him and he hadn’t heard Adam approach.
“Working.” It’s a little sharper than he means it to be, annoyed as he is at letting himself be surprised. At having allowed Adam to monopolize his thoughts yet again.
Adam frowns but there’s a smile in his eyes and Tony looks away.
“Not tonight. Tonight is for celebrating.”
“The work doesn’t stop now you have your third star.” Tony lets his irritation bleed freely now into his voice, hoping Adam will get the hint and leave him be. It’s easier to ignore the traitorous feelings he’s never quite been able to banish when Adam isn’t right there. “In fact, it only gets harder.”
“We.”
Tony does look up at that, because Adam’s not making sense. “Sorry?”
“We got the star, Tony. Together.”
That’s probably the thing that amazes Tony the most. Adam has somehow shed his ego, accepted that sometimes it’s okay to need a little help, and learnt not to sabotage himself by alienating those who care.
Helene is undeniably good for him.
“You should get back to your meal.”
“Don’t suppose I can convince you to join us?”
“Thank you, no. I’m busy.” He pretends to be looking at the spreadsheet of figures in front of him and it’s only when he hears the footsteps returning to the kitchen that he can breathe again.
And curse himself for letting Adam continue to have this effect.
His reprieve lasts only minutes. Adam’s back and he sets a plate down in front of Tony, right on top of the still unidentified spreadsheet. Adam sits down, smiling and expectant, like a puppy awaiting a treat.
Tony ignores the lurch his heart gives.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re family too, Tony.” There’s another lurch and Tony batters it down. “Besides, you gotta eat.”
Adam’s not going to give up until Tony gives in, and hasn’t that always been the way of things? The food is good, which isn’t a surprise, and Tony can feel Adam’s gaze on him as he eats but he refuses to look.
He finally pushes the mostly empty plate aside with a soft, “Thank you,” and picks up his pen again. It’s an obvious dismissal that Adam chooses to ignore.
“Tony.”
His teeth ache, his jaw is clenched so hard.
“Little Tony.”
He’s not going to react. There are more important things than Adam Jones that require his attention.
The pen is plucked from his fingers.
“Hey!” He reaches across the table to snatch it back, only to have his hand captured instead, held firm in Adam’s strong, callused grasp. Trying to tug himself free proves futile.
Adam’s hand is large and warm and Tony refuses to think about how it had felt against his jaw, gently cradling his face.
Instead, he glares across the table.
“I’ve been an idiot, Tony.”
“Yes.”
Adam laughs, doesn’t protest Tony’s immediate and unequivocal agreement, but then the smile subsides into something uncharacteristically solemn.
“I’ve never really told you I’m sorry, or thank you, or…” He trails off. There’s no need to list all the many ways he’s done wrong by Tony. “After everything I’ve done, you deserve so much more than a few inadequate words.”
Before Tony can even so much as scoff, he’s brought crashing to a halt by the rubbing of Adam’s thumb across the inside of his wrist. It’s a deliberate action, slipping under the cuff of his shirtsleeve, and Tony’s breath catches in his throat.
But then Adam’s words filter through and Tony’s stomach knots painfully, his heart plummeting. Adam thinks that this, that offering some hollow affection, a taste of what Tony desires, a pity fuck, will make amends for all the hurt. It’s certainly a step up from breakfast, but leaves Tony just as dejected, just as empty.
“Don’t.” It comes out a whisper, and Tony wrenches his hand free, starts shoving his papers back into their folder, so haphazard they will be a bitch to sort out later. The kiss, that had been different - spontaneous, born of gratitude and elation and their shared relief at being granted a reprieve - but this…Tony did still have some dignity. “Not if you don’t mean it. Is not fair.”
He gathers up the folder, and has taken only three steps when he hears Adam’s chair scrape back and two more when his path is blocked.
“I’m an idiot, we’ve established that, right?” There’s an urgency in Adam’s voice, but Tony keeps his focus somewhere over Adam’s right shoulder. It’s safer than to risk looking at him. “All those years and I didn’t…I had my head so far up my own ass I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. You were the one to pick me up and dust me off, every time I fucked up. You fought for my job, tried to get me clean, took the brunt of my shitty behavior. Until I pushed too hard.” A pause, then he gave a soft, awed chuckle. “And you still took me back.”
“Because I am a fool.”
“No. You’re a good man, Tony. And I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”
“Thank you,” Tony says, and, “you’re welcome,” and he tries to dodge around Adam but he’s too close.
“You’ve already given me this,” Adam waves a hand to indicate the restaurant around them, “and god knows I don’t deserve even that. And you, you deserve so much more than a fuck-up like me. But I’ve changed, I’m learning to be better. Let me prove it to you, let me show you I know how to treat you right.”
“But you…” Tony stammers, looking anywhere but at Adam, not quite daring to hope. Hope only leads to disappointment, and that’s something that’s almost a given whenever Adam Jones is involved. Not everything is possible. Tony clutches the folder tighter to his chest. A shield. “You don’t…”
“Don’t feel the same way you do?” There’s a smile in his voice, but it’s tentative, and Tony recognizes the hope he’s stubbornly fighting down himself. “I think maybe I do. It’s just taken me a helluva lot longer to realize it.”
The hope flickers to life and Tony is helpless to resist it. Adam has always been his weakness and he never was much of a fighter.
But whatever his feelings may truly be, there’s still something important that Adam seems to have forgotten. “What about Helene? I thought you and she…I won’t let you hurt her.”
“Who do you think it was told me to come find you?”
Tony glances reflexively in the direction of the kitchen, sucking in his cheeks in nervous consideration. It felt somehow reassuring to have Helene give her blessing, to know she recognized potential where Tony had only ever believed there to be unattainable dreams and ridiculous fantasy.
Adam shifts his weight, foot to foot, and Tony knows he is waiting. Waiting for Tony’s decision, to see if he’s willing to reach for the ending he’s wanted for so long. Tony makes the mistake of meeting Adam’s shockingly blue eyes, and knows his answer must be written across his face.
He had told Adam that he’s not as pretty as he used to be. It was a lie. Oh, there was some truth behind the cruel words - Adam is older now, worn at the edges - but his smile is still a beautiful thing, his eyes blazing with radiant joy as he beams at Tony and it feels like being struck by a physical force.
Adam’s hands are gentle as they frame Tony’s face, but they still seem to burn against his skin. Thumbs smooth across his cheeks and fingers curl around the back of his neck and then Adam is kissing him.
It isn’t a surprise like the first had been, but it leaves Tony just as breathless and it takes a bit of coaxing from Adam before he remembers to kiss back, remembers that this is real and that he can. It’s inelegant and lacking finesse but he can feel Adam’s smile, the fingers in his hair, and it doesn’t matter.
The folder of forgotten papers is tugged from his grasp and set aside on the closest table without Adam ever letting him go, and then Adam presses flush against him, no barrier between them. Tony’s hands, now free, flutter a moment in indecision, almost afraid to touch lest it break the spell. Then they fist in Adam’s t-shirt, clutching tight, like a man drowning, and Tony would be adrift were it not for Adam holding him close.
When Adam pulls away, Tony tries to follow, almost going up onto his toes. Adam doesn’t go far, doesn’t let go, and is looking at him with so much affection and he’s never before been the recipient of that look and isn’t quite sure what to do now.
Adam has a suggestion. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Tony makes a small sound in the back of his throat that he will remember to be embarrassed about later. He’s halfway through a nod when there’s a burst of noise from the kitchen and he’s reminded that there are other things to celebrate, other people just as entitled to Adam’s company.
“They won’t miss you?”
“Nah. It means more food for them.”
Adam’s joking, but there’s still some doubt lurking in the back of Tony’s mind, the same insecurity Dr. Rosshilde has been trying to help him banish for years.
“You don’t want to—”
“All I want right now is you.” There’s a heat flaring behind Adam’s electric eyes and that’s also something Tony’s never experienced before. “In my bed.” Adam’s hand trails down to Tony’s chest, his fingers playing with the knot of his tie. “Maybe with less clothes?”
Tony’s mouth opens and closes a few times and he feels the blush heating his cheeks. Adam clearly thinks his reaction adorable, for he smiles fondly and presses his lips to Tony’s forehead before taking Tony by the hand and leading him from the restaurant.
Tony’s smiling as he follows and he thinks he may never stop.