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It starts at sixteen, with a promise.
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Tony doesn’t know how he gets to Steve’s house.
His mind is a mess of alcohol, broken glass and scraped knees, and the sound of his father’s screams won’t fucking leave him, so he does. It’s not long before he realizes he’s lost because he can’t even look at the road-- the anger in Howard’s face is seared into his eyes and god, they won’t stop burning.
But then...
Then he looks up, and right there in front of him is the bright red door that he loves so much because it’s his favorite color and because there’s the scratch above the doorknob he made when he was nine.
The bright red door that he loves so much because it’s Steve’s door.
He has his phone out before he knows it, and even with trembling hands and blurry eyes, he still finds the right button to press-- he could find it with his eyes closed, for all the times he uses it-- and then brings it to his cheek except ow, why does it sting?
Why does his body hurt?
And why is there a loud ringing?
“Tony?”
“Steve,” he thinks he says, but when it doesn’t end up sounding right in his head, he tries again. “Steeeeeeeve.”
Better.
“Hello? Tony?”
“St-Steve!” he yells, whipping his head to find his best friend, only to whimper when the world starts turning dangerously.
“Tony, what’s wrong?”
“Shhhh,” he whispers, “don--don’t be s-so loud. Open... open the door, ‘m outside.”
“What? Whaddaya mean you’re outside? Are you... are you drunk? Are you okay? What happened? Just... hold on, don’t move, I’m coming down.”
“No, no, don’t go, don’t leave-- I’m outside, don’t--” Tony says, but then the door moves and he almost falls forward and Steve’s there, all five feet of bright blue eyes and flannel pajamas and rumpled hair, and suddenly Tony’s tiny, shriveled up heart feels like it’s breaking because his best friend is right here and Tony’s not alone anymore.
“Oh Tony,” Steve breathes, and it’s the tears Tony sees in his eyes that finally break him-- again, because Tony will always be the broken one, but never Steve.
“So, um,” Tony lets out a chuckle as bitter and fucked up as he is, “turns out... turns out dear ol’ dad really doesn’t like being reminded his kid’s smarter than him.” He doesn’t care that the last word comes out as a sob, doesn’t care about anything except the sudden feeling of Steve’s warm, skinny arms around him.
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Steve whispers into his hair, and even with Howard’s curses still beating at his brain, Tony hears his best friend clear as day.
“I don’t... I don’t know why I just... ” Tony shakes his head, and when the alcohol tries to climb back up his throat, he pushes it down with everything he has. “I just can’t keep my fucking mouth shut, but he just--”
“Fuck Howard.”
“What?” Tony rasps as he pulls away, but Steve just grabs Tony’s shoulders and growls.
“I said fuck Howard.”
Holy shit.
“Fuck him,” Steve hisses, eyes wide and stormy and beautiful. “Fuck him and everyone else.”
“Steve--”
“No, Tony. Listen to me, because we’ve already had this conversation once, but you’re drunk and you always forget things when you’re drunk, so we’re havin’ it again. You’re so much more than what he thinks-- what they all think. Got it?”
Tony nods.
“Say it,” Steve tells him. He’s three inches smaller than Tony but he suddenly fills up the whole room, and Tony will do anything this boy tells him until the day he dies.
“I’m... I am,” he whispers, and he’s still crying but it doesn’t matter because Steve’s lips quirk up into a smile, and just like that, the screams in Tony’s head finally start fading to whispers.
“Damn right,” Steve nods, then pushes Tony all the way to the couch and sits down on the floor next to it.
“Sleep,” he says, “and tomorrow, my Ma will make us some pancakes and I’ll show you my new comic ideas.” His voice is the softest thing Tony’s ever felt, and the cushions under his cheek smell like apples, cinnamon and Steve.
They smell like home.
“Promise me?” Tony blurts, clutching at the cushions, at his best friend, at anything that will keep him from falling down and falling apart.
“Anything,” Steve whispers.
“One day... after high school, I--” Tony breathes, “we’ll take a year and get the fuck outta here. Just you and me. We’ll-- we’ll go see the world?” He doesn’t realize he’s crying again until Steve lifts a hand to wipe at his cheeks, and he tastes the salt on his lips. “We’ll go to... to Brazil and China, and the Louvre... We’ll send your mom postcards, and-- and Bucky and Rhodey and Nat and everyone else. Yeah?”
Please, he wants to say, just you and me and everything. No school, no assholes, no Howard.
Just us.
Steve smiles again. “Okay,” he says, and Tony finally sleeps.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
It’s after that night that he starts taking a little bit of the money he has-- and he has so much, sometimes he thinks he hates it-- and puts it in a box under his bed.
(He knows Howard rarely goes into his room, and never to snoop through his things, so it’s a safe enough place for now.)
Steve tells him, days later, about the job his mom’s friend gets for him as bag boy at the nearby supermarket, and how he’s going to start saving a quarter of every check. In two years, he says with a grin, they’ll have plenty for the trip.
Tony doesn’t tell him they pretty much have it all already He’s known Steve long enough to know he’ll never accept a single penny of Tony’s money-- not that it changes anything, because Tony’s going to have thousands by the time they leave.
At school, they decide to tell only their smallest circle of friends, because Tony may be an asshole, but he’s not so bad that he’d spring it on them at the last minute. And Steve is worlds nicer than he is, obviously, so he’s just ridiculously excited about it, even if it means they’re going to end up taking a year off before college.
He’d asked Steve about it the morning after, when his mind was normal again-- as normal as it could be, anyway, seeing as how he’s Tony Stark-- but Steve had just shaken his head.
“I want to go,” he’d told Tony. “Besides, an artist needs as much inspiration as he can get, right? I’m sure I’ll get into a good school with what I end up learnin’.”
“You could get into one right now with what you already have,” Tony had scoffed, and Steve’s laugh had been sweet and disbelieving and utterly perfect.
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At seventeen, it becomes a possibility.
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During the summer between junior and senior year, everything changes.
Well, not everything. Just one big thing that changes a lot of little things. Literally.
Because Steve has a growth spurt.
In the span of about six weeks, he goes from 5′4 to 6′2; Tony almost faints when he sees him the first time after he comes back from his family vacation. And this time, that little pang of attraction he's always tried so hard to ignore around Steve-- who's always been cute as hell, ever since Tony's known him, with those eyes and that smile and that sass-- suddenly becomes impossible to.
By the time school starts again, Steve's put on more than fifty pounds of muscle, and it's all Tony can do to keep from whimpering every time he sees him, because really, developing more feelings for his best friend is about the last thing he needs--God knows the ones he already has haven't been easy to ignore, but Tony's done a fucking beautiful job of doing it.
Until now, of course.
Steve keeps working out until his shoulders and arms and legs grow deliciously nicer and thicker than ever, until he goes from being the baby of the bunch, to being the tallest of them all.
He's still the same guy he's always been-- Tony thanks every deity he doesn't believe in for that one, really, because losing his best friend would've probably killed him-- except all that Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice is now tied up in any red-blooded human’s wet dream.
Steve's a big, cuddly teddy bear now, and Tony is screwed.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
He lasts about two weeks of torture before he breaks, and goes to find Rhodey.
“So,” Tony says, when he finally gets him alone during free period in the library, "I, uh--"
"What is it, Tony?"
"I think... I think I may have some, uh, feelings?"
Rhodey looks up from his textbook. "What kind of feelings?"
"...Romantic ones?"
"So you finally figured it out?"
"Figured what out?"
Rhodey leans back into his seat with a grin, all thoughts of schoolwork clearly forgotten now. "That you have feelings for Steve?"
Tony’s breath catches in his chest."What?"
The librarian leans over to glare at them, but Tony doesn't have time for anything except--
“I-- I didn't,” he stammers.“...What the fuck, Rhodey?"
"I'm right, aren't I?" His friend’s smile only gets bigger. "Okay, it's Pepper time."
Why is Tony's heart beating so loud? He can barely hear Rhodey mumbling his texts as he writes them, he can barely hear his own breathing because who else knows? How did anyone find out before Tony?
"You okay, man?"
"No, I’m... Shit," Tony breathes, but Rhodey holds up his hand.
"Ah, ah, ah," he tuts, “Here she comes.”
"How does she know?" Tony asks, but a second later, he smells apples and he turns and there she is, his Pepper-pot, heading straight for him. God, he feels better just looking at her.
"I think Barton won the bet," she tells Rhodey, and then turns to Tony and pats his hand. "Congratulations on getting your head out of your ass."
"What?"
“No time to waste, though. Tell me everything, and make it quick-- I've got Student Council in fifteen."
"How did...?" Tony breathes.
Pepper rolls her eyes. "Okay, fine, I'll go first-- I'm a hell of a lot more coherent than you, anyway. Listen, sweetie, we've known it for years."
“Years?” Why does his own voice sound so far away? “I-- but I-- I just... What the fuck are you talking about?"
Rhodey groans into his hands, but Pepper just smiles. "It’s been obvious the whole time.”
“Wh-- obvious?”
“All the pet names, Tony.”
“I do that with everyone,” he hisses, glancing at the librarian’s look of warning.
“Not as often as you do with Steve,” Pepper continues.
“It’s just-- it’s my thing,” Tony says. “I’ve never... he knows it’s just something I do.”
"Okay, and what about the time Peggy Carter wanted to go out with him? You remember what you did?"
"I just reminded him that she was a foreign exchange student," he points out heatedly. “She was going back to England at the end of the year, he would've been... sad..."
"And heartbroken."
Tony scoffs. "Really, Pep, he didn't even know her."
"Because of you."
"I was just trying to spare us all from having to hang out with a moping Steve."
"Is that what you were doing all the other times, too?" Pepper snickers.
Tony doesn't get what's funny about trying to keep his best friend from getting hurt. "I was trying to... Look, there's a lot of assholes around here, and I’m sure as hell not letting anyone take advantage of him."
"So what's changed?” Rhodey asks. “Is it the way he looks now?"
"Fuck you,” Tony glares at him. “You know that’s not...."
"Then what is it?"
Tony sighs. "This... It's not-- not new...”
"That's what we've been saying, Tones," Rhodey says.
"I just... He's my best friend. Sorry, Rhodey--"
"It's cool."
"You're my bro. And Pep, you're..."
Pepper smiles. “I know.”
"But... fuck, how do I-- okay, I'm just gonna, y'know, say it. Don't laugh."
"Promise.”
"Right... I, uh, I get this... thing here," he taps his chest with a finger, "when I see him? Even when he was, like, half our size-- and I... I think about who he is, y’know? And he's the nicest guy I've ever met--"
"We know--"
"No one should be that sweet, you get fucking cavities from watching him. But then, he's also such a little shit. Like, no room for screwing around, he will fuck you up. And it was worse when he was little, because he never stopped-- half the time, I was terrified they'd split him in half, Jesus... And I know I'm not easy to deal with--"
"Don't say that,” Rhodey scowls.
"It’s not like it’s a lie,” Tony shrugs, “I'll drink to it and everything. But Steve... He's never tried to change me. God knows he deserves someone who's not fucked up--"
"You are not fucked up." Pepper says, and Tony loves her all the more for it.
"Thanks, Pep. I just--”
“Hey, guys.”
Shit.
“Hey, Steve,” Pepper waves over Tony’s shoulder. Rhodey’s grin is knowing all over again, but Tony ignores him to turn and meet Steve’s eyes.
“What’s up, buttercup?” He grins, light and easy and just about everything he’s not feeling right now.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in Physics right now?” Steve asks, but he’s smiling back at him, and Tony just leans his chair back until his head meets his best friend’s stomach.
This feeling business is not fun in the least, but Tony'll be damned if he's going to let it get in the way of the best thing he's got going for him right now. “Coulson knows I still do my work,” he says. “It’s just child’s play at this point.”
“Then gimme a hand?” Steve asks. “I’m not gettin’ it at all...”
Tony’s out of out chair before he's even finished the question. “Buy me a honey bun first, honey bun,” he winks. “And let’s do this out in the quad, yeah?? Can’t even breathe in here without Hair Bun over there glaring daggers, Christ...”
“Alright,” Steve nods, and then waves at Pepper and Rhodey as Tony pulls him out of the library by the wrist.
“Up and at ‘em, big guy,” Tony says when they’re in the hall. “My stomach is killing me.”
“Yeah, I didn’t see you at lunch.”
“Bruce and I lost track of time down in the lab, and then Reed popped in and started running his smug mouth, like he always does, and by the time we snapped out of it, it was over-- fuck, that bun is sounding better with every second.”
“Here you go then,” Steve chuckles, when they’re finally standing by the vending machine.
“Come to papa, babies,” Tony begs, pressing his forehead against the glass.
“Oh,” Steve says, “I keep forgetting to tell you-- I got a raise!”
“Nice!”
“Yep, so now I can put away more for the trip.”
“Fuck yeah,” Tony can’t help smiling, because the machine finally gives him his honey bun and Steve sounds really happy about the trip, and now Tony’s thinking about it, too. It’s always there, in the back of his mind-- sometimes, it feels like the light at the end of the tunnel, as cheesy as that is, because he’s still looking forward to it so fucking much. Knowing Steve’s just as committed is icing on the cake.
And when he thinks about the box still stashed under his bed, his smile gets just a little bit wider.
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At eighteen, it becomes a reality.
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Tony is announced valedictorian at the end of senior year, and absolutely no one is surprised.
Steve wraps his arms around him-- like he did the night of their promise, like he’s done countless times since they were six-- and twirls him around as everyone crows and whoops and cheers their congratulations.
“Looking forward to the speech,” Nat smirks, and Sam, Clint and Bucky just groan in response.
“Hey, he’s gonna do great,” Steve defends him.
Tony pats him on the back in thanks. “I’ve got half a mind to make it long,” he says, “just to piss Howard off.”
“I second that,” Pepper raises her hand. “Bastard,” she mutters, and shares a high-five with Clint.
But there’s no Howard at the ceremony; just his mom discreetly wiping away tears as he gives the speech he’s making up on the spot, and Jarvis, who holds up a camera and gives him a proud thumbs up as Tony accepts his diploma. It’s probably just as well, because Tony can’t imagine that his dad wouldn’t find a way to ruin everything.
Steve runs over to him after, Mrs. Rogers and everyone else trailing behind him like little baby ducks. "You did good,” he says, grinning, and Tony feels genuinely happy for the first time all day.
At the graduation party Mrs. Rogers holds after the ceremony, Tony pulls her aside while everyone’s distracted, with every intention of bringing up the trip. But then he actually tries talking to her, and all he can manage is mumbles and stutters because how is he supposed to ask her when he can take her son away to travel the world with him?
“So when’s a good time for Steve to leave for our trip?”
Oh. Like that, apparently, he thinks with surprised relief.
Mrs. Rogers cocks her head. “Well, you should ask him when he’s planning on buying his ticket--”
“I’m asking you, Mrs. Rogers--”
“Sarah.”
“I’m asking you, Sarah,” Tony says, “‘cause I’m pretty sure you know by now.”
“Know what?” she asks, blue eyes earnest and knowing and yeah, she’s not fooling him.
“That I’ve had the money for this whole thing since the beginning.”
“We both know my son would never accept--”
“I don’t give a damn,” Tony snaps, but Sarah doesn’t even blink. “I’m the one who asked him--”
“He wants to go, Tony. You can’t imagine how much.”
“I know, but... I can take care of it. I can take care of him,” he whispers, horrified to feel his eyes burning. He can barely see Sarah, until she leans up to wipe them dry.
Just like Steve did that first night.
“A month from now should do,” she says gently, “but you know he’s not going to be happy about this.”
“Maybe you could break the news to him, then?” Tony asks, grinning when Sarah just laughs.
“You take good care of my boy,” she says, and it feels like an order but goddamn it, he’s more happy to follow it.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Enjoy what the world has to offer, and then you bring both yourselves back in one piece, you hear me?”
Tony can only nod.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
He buys the pair of tickets that same night: first class, departing to London at eight in the morning on the eleventh of July.
And then he waits until the fourth-- Steve’s birthday-- to tell him.
He puts them inside a sketchbook, wraps it carefully, and keeps it with him for the entire party. More than once, Steve eyes him oddly, but Tony just waves him off.
He doesn’t know how he makes it all the way to the end, but eventually Steve sits in the middle of his gifts and starts opening them-- he does it every year, without fail, and it’s such a Steve thing to do that it makes Tony smile until his cheeks start hurting.
Steve thanks each of their friends for their gifts, and then he gets to Tony’s and unsticks the tape piece by piece. Clint boos from the couch, but Tony tells him to just hurry on with it, and Steve furrows his brow when he sees the sketchbook.
“Open it,” Tony says, and Steve does, Tony can see the moment he realizes what’s inside, because he freezes so fast, it’s almost funny.
But there’s nothing comical about the look on his face.
“Tony,” he whispers, every inch of him still tense where he sits.
“Happy birthday, big guy.”
“Tony.”
“Aren’t you gonna show all your friends?”
Steve shakes his head and stands up, sketchbook pressed against his chest as he grabs Tony and excuses them both.
“Steve--” Tony starts, but Steve shakes his head until they reach the kitchen.
“What is this?” he asks.
Tony rolls his eyes. “You know what it is.”
“I meant-- why are there two tickets?”
“Because there’s two of us,” he points at himself, then at Steve.
“I have money, Tony--”
“You’ve been saving, I know. You told me.”
“Then what is this?”
“I’m paying for it,” Tony finally says it, because really, he doesn’t feel like arguing today. “Everything.”
“No, you’re not--”
“I already did.”
“Tony, I told you,” Steve points at him, “since you told me about this. You know..” his voice breaks, “you know I’ve been--”
“I know!”
Steve looks down. “And now I feel like...”
Oh. Shit.
Oh, fuck no. Not that.
“Steve--”
“I feel like... maybe none of that matters to you,” Steve says, and when his chin trembles, Tony just breaks all over again.
“You know it’s not like that,” he snarls.
“Then what am I supposed to think, when you know how hard I’ve worked for this-- for years, Tony-- and then you go ‘head and just ignore it?”
“That’s bullshit, Steve, I’m not ignoring--”
“You better listen to me good, Anthony Edward Stark,” Steve squares his shoulders, and his eyes are blurry and bright, but he’s as serious as Tony’s ever seen him. “I’m not lettin’ you do this.”
“Goddamn it, Steve,” Tony sighs. “Just... look, just let me deal with all the shit, and you can use all that money you earned to buy whatever you want.”
Steve shakes his head. “No, I said--”
“You could buy your mom souvenirs from London and Spain, and Mexico and Japan and Istanbul. Or some designer shit from all over Paris. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t fucking kill for that.”
“Tony--”
“And you can buy Bucky a fuckload of shirts with really stupid stuff on ‘em. Sam can get a-- I dunno, a samurai sword, or whatever you want. And you can buy Clint a real bow and arrow, Steve!”
Steve doesn’t say anything, and he’s still holding the sketchbook so hard, his knuckles are white. “He’s always wanted one,” he says, and Tony grins because just like that, he knows he’s won.
Still...
“And Nat? You can buy her something red and scary from Moscow, like one of those fancy ass eggs--”
“Fabergé eggs, Tony--”
“Whatever,” Tony waves his hand, “or one of those dolls with the smaller dolls inside! We can find the creepiest one, it’ll be awesome.”
“Why are you doing this?” Steve asks, but he doesn’t look or sound pissed anymore, and Tony’s so relieved, he can’t hold back anymore.
“Because... I’ve been dreaming about this since we were sixteen,” he says, and he has to swallow once, then twice, to get rid of the lump in his throat. “Because you’ve been my best friend for as long as having anyone has ever mattered. Because when I think about getting outta here and seeing the world... there’s no one else I wanna do it with, except you.”
Steve looks stunned.
Because I love you, Tony wants to say. Wants to say it so much, it hurts.
But instead, he just shrugs, and continues. “So... sue me for wanting this trip to be the best.”
Steve shakes his head. “It’s never been about havin’ the best,” he says, and pulls Tony into his chest. “It’s always been just you and me, remember?”
“Yeah,” Tony whispers, closing his eyes and breathing in Steve’s scent.
“As long as it’s us, I’ll be happy.”
"That’s... that's what it’s all about, right?"
Steve hums. "So, anyone else know we're leaving so soon?"
"Your mom, for one," Tony replies, pulling back, and he grins when Steve rolls his eyes. "And I did end up telling everyone else, just so they'd have enough time to spend with you before."
"So that's why I've been awfully busy these past few weeks," Steve laughs. "I thought I'd suddenly become Mr. Popular or something, the way I couldn't get a day to myself."
"Stuff it, Rogers. You know everyone's loved you forever."
"Everyone?" Steve raises an eyebrow playfully, and Tony scoffs even as his heart skips a beat.
"You really should get back out there," he says, "you're a fucking horrible host, ignoring all these lovely people that came to see you finally become a legal adult, what’s wrong with you?”
"Can't keep them waiting, then," Steve holds out his hand. "Come with me?"
Anywhere, Tony thinks, and does just that.