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Steve walked into detention late, escorted by his Chemistry teacher, and slumped down in the seat closest to the door. Though he’d gotten caught in the middle of a fight again, he hardly thought it was fair he was the one being thrown in detention. He’d been trying to pull those guys off each other, honest! But this had been the third time this week that Mr. Miller had caught him fighting, and it was only Tuesday. Today was the first day he’d had detention this week, though, so he was in less trouble than he had been last week.
Bucky would have smiled at that, had he still gone to school there. Steve’s best friend had moved to some small town in Germany a couple months ago, and even though they still wrote to and emailed each other, it wasn’t the same. Steve still wasn’t used to doing everything alone: going to practice, walking home, studying... They had done everything together, but not anymore. Walking around campus without his right-hand man was lonelier than he had expected. He missed having someone to talk to, to spend time with, to share a bed with. He’d made some new friends, and he was still having a pretty fun time playing football for his high school, so things had been looking up for him.
He picked his head up from where it had been resting on the desk in front of him and looked around. The detention room was full of its usual attendants: daily dress code violators with bright hair and ripped clothes, consistently tardy kids docked for either parking violations or excessive tardies, and some of his team mates who never turn in anything. Right next to him, though, was a guy he’d never seen before. He had dark hair, wore an AC/DC t-shirt and jeans, and looked to be covered in some sort of... Blast residue?
Steve took pride in his ability to relate to all the kids at school, or at least to recognize them. His personality allowed him to relate to the quieter kids, and all the more outgoing people wanted to be able to say they knew him because of his physique. But this kid? The only two things going through his head right now were who is this kid and why is he so damn attractive?
Steve was normally shy and awkward, but his curiosity overpowered his insecurities just then, and he leaned closer to the strange boy.
“Hey,” Steve whispered. “What’re you in for?” He asked, feeling dorky using that cliche phrase, but not knowing how else to start the conversation. The boy glanced over at him for a second without moving his head, then turned to grin at Steve.
“Sassed the teacher. And, I blew up one of the robotics labs. But it was the sass that got me here.” He paused for a second, looking Steve up and down, before asking, “How’d you get here, Captain Football?”
Steve flashed a smile when answering, “Fighting in the halls.” A moment later, he added, “I’m Steve, by the way.”
“Tony,” the kid added. He propped his elbow up on the desk and rested his head on his fist, clearly already bored with detention. Then again, who wouldn’t be?
Steve had opened his mouth to begin asking what he’d been doing when he blew up the robotics lab, but the moderator had just walked into the room, and he didn’t want to get in more trouble, so he shut up. The chatter of the detention room began to die down, and everyone settled in for another incredibly boring detention session. But Steve couldn’t stop looking at Tony. He’d look over at him every few seconds, trying to be discreet about it and failing miserably.
By the time detention had ended, Steve had memorized sharp lines of Tony’s nose and jaw bone, and the dull grey colors of his somewhat-scorched attire. He may or may not have planned on sketching that profile over and over again once he got home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Steve wove his way across campus as the sun was setting after practice on Thursday evening. He was trying to clear his head, to relax for one moment before he got home and had to start his mountain of homework, but images of Tony kept invading his mind. Seriously, Steve, he thought to himself, This is starting to become a problem. You’ve talked to him once. You probably won’t ever see him again. Just... Forget about him. But Steve’s advice to himself had limited effect, as he kept thinking about Tony.
Cutting in between some of the school buildings on his way to his house, Steve heard muffled sounds of someone getting beat up coming from the hall on his left. Without taking even a moment to think about it, Steve had turned and headed for the awful sounds. He started rolling his sleeves up as he approached. As he rounded the corner, he saw three of his teammates ganging up on some kid he couldn’t see. Steve sighed, and reached out to grab one of the guys’ arms.
“Hey. Hey! Guys, come on, leave him alone. You all know we don’t have time for this kind of shit, not with playoffs coming up. We can’t afford any more detentions, and if anyone catches us, we’re dead.” One of the guys started to make another move on the poor kid, who was still crouched against a wall, and Steve grabbed his arm. “Really? Just stop it, ok?”
Though Steve was a respected member of the team, he was sure he heard his retreating teammates calling him some ridiculous names (specifically “Captain Tight-Pants” and “a fucking pussy”). He sighed, shaking his head as he walked over to the boy, who was just now peaking his face out from where he had been protecting it.
“Hey, man, I’m sorry abo-” Steve started to say as he closed the distance between them, but stopped short when he recognized him. Was that... It was! Tony! “Oh, hey, Tony!” He smiled and held out a hand to help Tony up. “I’m so sorry... God, you look awful. Are you ok?” Steve asked, grasping Tony on the shoulders and holding him out to better examine him.
“Steve. ‘M fine. Promise,” Tony slurred a bit, making Steve’s eyebrows shoot up.
“I really doubt that,” Steve said with a chuckle. He looked him over briefly, and further investigated the cut on the back of his head. “Mmm, that doesn’t look very good. We should go get that checked out.”
“There’s no fucking way I’m going to a hospital,” Tony said gruffly.
“Never said hospital, Tony,” Steve paused for a second, thinking. “Do you want me to check it out here or at my house?”
“Uh... Here? I think?” Tony said, his voice dripping with uncertainty.
“Ok, fine, here. But we have to get you to the locker room where I can see you better.”
“Ugh. Fine. Let’s go,” Tony said, pulling away from Steve’s death grip on his shoulders and promptly stumbling into a wall. He leaned on it for support until Steve got wrapped Tony’s arm over his shoulders to help stand him up.
Together, they hobbled across the empty campus to the long-vacant football locker rooms. After a more thorough inspection by Steve in the improved light, Tony was ameturely diagnosed with a few cuts and bruises, and a head injury.
“Ok, great, had those before. Don’t need your help anymore. Thanks. I’m gonna go home now,” Tony rambled, pulling away from Steve again and taking a step back towards the door.
“Not so fast,” Steve said, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder, “You still have a head wound, and you look like you haven’t bathed in several days. You need to take a shower.”
“Fine. Where are they, again?” Tony asked, rolling his eyes. Steve sighed and steered him to the group showers. He left Tony by the entrance, and went to turn on the shower himself. “You’re gonna get soaked,” Tony called half-heartedly. He couldn’t put any force behind the words, though, cause he was secretly overjoyed to see Steve like this: soaking wet and pulling him into the shower.
“Come here, Tony,” Steve called.
“I can shower myself,” Tony groused as he walked over to where Steve was standing.
“Your head injury and the fact that you seem to have not been able to before you got it tell me otherwise. I’ll let you, if you want to, but I figured it’d be easier this way.”
“Fine. But I’m leaving my clothes on,” Tony said.
“Well, we’re in the same boat, ‘cause mine’re already soaked - there’s no way they’re coming off now. C’mere, you need to wash your hair,” Steve called to Tony. Tony obliged, and surprisingly didn’t say a word when Steve started shampooing his hair.
“That good?” Steve asked quietly as he washed Tony’s hair from behind. The only response he got was Tony’s leaning further into his hands, leaning his back against Steve’s strong chest. Steve was just finishing washing Tony’s hair when Tony started talking.
“Steve. Why are you doing this?” he asked tiredly.
“Cause you needed help,” Steve said, as if the answer was obvious.
“That’s not a reason.”
“Yes it is,” Steve replied as he found some soap to try to wash off the dirt from Tony’s skin. “Why, is there some problem?”
“... No.”
“Wow, that was convincing,” Steve said with a slight smile.
“No, really, no problem here,” Tony started blabbering. “Just don’t wanna have one later.”
“Why would we have one later?” Steve asked hesitantly.
“If word gets out that I’m showering, here? With another guy? God, if you thought I was getting beat up tonight, just you wait til you hear how that goes over.”
Steve was taken aback. “Tony...” he trailed off.
“Oh, that’s right. You’re, what, bisexual too?”
“I... What?” Steve was usually good at keeping up with fast-paced conversations, but that intuitive leap was too big for even him.
“You know, bisexual. Swings both ways. Anything but straight,” Tony rattled off.
“No, I know that. I guess you could say that about me, but I don’t like labels... Why?” Steve said as Tony turned to face him.
But Tony didn’t answer with words. Instead, he walked forward and pinned Steve against the slick tile wall. Before he even knew what he was doing, Steve was leaning down, grabbing Tony’s chin to tilt his face up to meet his, and kissing him. Tony’s heart was beating double-time, at first anxious that his advances would be unwelcome, then melting into pure pleasure.
Neither of them had ever thought they'd be kissing another guy in the locker room showers, but they both remember that night as the best night they'd had in a long time. The first of many.