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in las vegas, there are no rules.
when steve rogers rolled up on his bike at 5 in the afternoon, there was already sweat rolling down the back of his neck, the blonde hair that laid there dripping in the heat. his leather jacket had been carefully placed in the knapsack he carried on his back, his white t-shirt more damp than dry. the new york heat was wet and heavy, but nevada seemed to be bone dry.
las vegas was not his final destination, but when his bike sputtered and threatened to give out underneath his weight, steve knew he was doomed. if he were anywhere near civilization, maybe he could fix it himself. instead, all he found were stretches of desert that he thought would never end, heat that blistered him, and the color red.
the sputtering of his bike turned to a defiance, but steve was puzzled -- she had never had such an attitude with him before. the two of them felt like family; everywhere steve went, the bike went, too. loud enough to drown out thoughts, and fast enough to get him away. and if that meant he was running away from his problems, then so be it.
she was toast, but steve refused to declare the time of death. he wasn’t too good at keeping up with shop talk, but he immediately assumed the worst. if he could get to a shop, he could be on the road by morning. but checking his watch, he noted that it was past five. great.
the problem occurred when he couldn't see another human soul for miles.
the way the sun beat on him felt personal; the heat in new york never felt this heavy. but pushing his bike alongside an empty road, he had no choice. every building he rolled past looked boarded up and empty, half of them crawling with nothing .
but, like a miracle, through his squinted eyes and the sweat that dripped down his nose, steve could see a garage. a tin can of a garage, but a garage. as he got closer, it didn’t look much better than the previous "buildings", if he could call them that. there was a big, hunkering sign that hung loosely from rusted chains that read Stark's , but no other information, which was… disheartening.
whoever this stark must be, they better have their doors open.
but no luck. with his bike propped up against the thin piece of metal that was supposed to be a wall, steve looked up. the birds that circled above his head were black against the bright contrast of the blue sky, and he couldn't help but admire them. staying alive in this heat was harder than he thought.
to say he scaled the building would make him sound stealthy; he preferred the term scope . the garage door looked heavy, the small building scarce on windows, with a large padlock that strapped across the front with large chains. the place looked like it had been crafted by hand, every piece of metal and junk carefully welded together. who the hell owns this place? steve asked himself. how the hell do I get in?
peeking into the small, thin windows, steve was mostly met with darkness, but what he could see was shiny metal and unlit lanterns that hung from the ceiling. welding equipment was scattered across a large, rectangular table, and what looked like a tire iron propped against the leg. that was all he could spot, but steve figured if it looked like an auto garage, it must be an auto garage.
getting in seemed to be the hard part. he wouldn't dare break the windows or cut the padlock that hung on the door, but--
it was left unlocked. that was easier than I expected.
the chains and padlock were loose and undone, and once steve yanked at them just hard enough, they had clattered to the ground. he jumped back, staring at them as dust lifted around his shoes. going forward, he pressed his palms flat against the heavy door, opening up the dark garage that now was flooding with light.
underneath the sun, now, steve could see. crates and old boxes lined the walls, each of them filled to the brim with wires and scrap metal. a pair of gloves sat atop of the table in the middle of the garage, holding down what looked like a blueprint of a bike. a beautiful bike, he might add. the lines were clean and the paper crisp, but he was struggling to find anything special about the thing before he could see what it was powered with. there was no engine, no fuel tank, just an engine with something that resembled a glowing orb.
where the hell am I?
part of him felt like he was in an indiana jones movie -- any move he made would be met with a swinging log to take him out, or spikes to emerge from the floor and ceiling. but it seemed like whoever had set up shop here had no issue with security, or privacy, for that matter. there were tools hanging on the walls that were seemingly free to use; so he took advantage of it. it was a necessity. at least, that's what steve kept telling himself.
once he was looking up the wall at a vast selection of drills, saws, coils, solders… steve reached out, but was promptly shocked! he stumbled back a few feet, holding his wrist with his free hand, a look of bewilderment crossing his face as he surveyed the seemingly invisible, blue… force field? startled to say the least, steve took another step back, only to bump himself into a corner, making contact with something about the same height as him - a figure. a mannequin? he took a deep breath before turning to face it . maybe I'm in the wrong place.
the thing was the size of a man. a suit seemingly made of tin cans and aluminum foil, at least that's what it looked like. it looked like something steve had seen in a comic book when he was a kid, the kind he used to ask his ma for when they could scrape together a couple extra bucks. the kind that were exciting and fascinating, but nothing he was particularly thrilled by. the suit had been spray-painted a deep, dark red, with golden eyes and accents. but the thing practically begged to fall apart just from squaring up with it, squeaking as it steadied against the wall.
it looked harmless, but he swore that thing almost sent him into cardiac arrest.
"I see you met mark."
steve froze, hearing an unfamiliar voice behind him. he straightened his posture and curled his fists before slooowly turning, looking the stranger in the eye.
"you must be stark," steve muttered, almost out of breath from his previous scare. he could hardly see by now -- the sun had begun to set behind the slim figure of the stranger in the doorway, beating behind him. glowing behind him. taking another step forward, steve put his hand up to cover his eyes and get a better look at this stark; and he was glad he did. his brown eyes felt challenging, but the dark hair that fell in his face felt endearing. his jeans were black and straight, boots on his feet, and a jacket that sat on top of a black tank top.
"tony." the other replied. there didn't seem to be an ounce of friendly in this guy. steve couldn't blame him, though, seeing as he just…
"why'd you break into my garage?"
finished my thought. steve stood a bit straighter and gestured toward the door, stammering.
"go ahead. use your big kid words." tony's nostrils flared and he let out a heavy breath. steve could smell brown liquor, but they met eyes.
"my bike broke down, right in the middle of the road. didn't have anywhere else to go, so I came here. the door was open."
"what I'm hearing is you want to fix your bike for free, so you broke into someone's garage. a total stranger's, by the way. god, didn't you ever learn manners in school? even once?"
as soon as he finished speaking, steve could connect the dots.
"oh. you're tony stark."
"that inflection sounds familiar. yeah. tony stark."
this is the tony stark that sold weapons from the comfort of his own home in california, but the same tony stark that donated $150m to schools around the country to help students get into college. finding out the tony stark reeked of alcohol and had a confrontational side? not so hard to believe.
"I might need a hand," steve matched tony's body language easily: defensive, but not a threat. both of them were ready for anything to happen, judging by the way they were staring each other down.
complete strangers. one of them was life, the other, death.
"are you going to show me your bike, or are you going to just catch flies in there all day?" steve didn't even realize his mouth was open. by the time he could close it, tony had already turned and began looking for the bike, dead in the water or not. as soon as he rounded the corner and stood in front of it, he couldn't help but think that it was a real… hunk of junk.
"what is this?"
steve, who had followed tony out, had crossed his arms across his chest, a sweat stain settling at the collar of his shirt. the heat was unbearable, especially inside that garage. it had to be at least 101 degrees while they were out there, and if he could, he'd cook an egg on the roof. but food seemed like the wrong thing to think about when tony stark is bent over your bike.
"she's a friend. be nice to her. she's taken me far." steve nodded in tony's direction and smiles, but tony, who is much too busy checking out every moving part in this bike, doesn’t see it. he takes it personally.
"I'm shaking in my boots. you know, you didn't even tell me your name. what's your deal? what are you doing in nowhere, nevada?" tony looked back at him.
"steve. steve rogers. I was driving to clear my head, and… got this far."
"steve rogers. you normally break all your bikes, steve rogers?"
steve's smile was shy, getting caught in his unknowing nature, looking down. "no," he paused. "I don't."
tony stood after that, rolling his eyes. "you just hoped a handsome stranger would leave the door to his priceless garage open, but you didn't know anything about bikes, or basic etiquette in general, so maybe, just maybe , that handsome stranger would show up hammered and fix it for you?" he had both his hands on the handles now, pushing up the kickstand with his foot and wheeling it back toward the door.
wow. this guy is drunk and handling himself like this?
they sat in silence for thirty minutes. steve had pulled up a stool to the table, watching his bike suspended about two feet off the ground and tony laying on his back atop of a red creeper, doing what steve could only call inspecting. he had been at it the entire time, only talking to himself. every time he did, steve caught himself hopeful for conversation before realizing that this was a pit stop, not a field trip. but if he learned anything, it was that he could hold a conversation with a wall if he felt like it. after what felt like hours, tony finally spoke up.
"your stator's out."
steve looked up, pretending he knew what that was. "you've got to be shitting me. I thought it was the alternator."
tony looked over and raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised. he caught on to the act early and turned his attention back to the bike. "yeah, brushing over the fact that you have no idea what I just said to you, or that your bike doesn't even have an alternator, I'll lay it out. you're screwed, but not indefinitely." tony slid out from underneath the bike and wiped his hands together, looking up at steve, who returned his gaze.
"uh…"
"you have a generator where most bikes have an alternator. I'm going to drop some knowledge on you so this doesn’t happen again." tony turned his back to steve before he moved to the other side of the garage, rooting through some of the crates that lined the wall. "an alternator is a self-contained assembly that has all of the same components your motorcycle uses to generate AC power. you know that that hoop shaped copper wire winding with output wires to your DC rectifier?" steve blinked. "yeah. the rotor has magnets attached and spins inside the hoop. the magnetic field passes though the copper stator wires and creates electrical current, which then converts to DC current in the rectifier module. blah, blah, blah, tony stark's patented rambling…"
by now, tony has brought three crates over and dropped them on the wooden table steve was sitting at. "the stator is the part that needs a little TLC, because that flow generates heat and eventually breaks down the assembly. vibration and oil help break those damn winding wires and create shorts, which is usually the cause of death for a lot of bikes," tony looked up at steve from across the table. "like yours.”
all through that, and steve sat there, polite as can be, nodding like he understood every word. "so… what's next?"
"what's next is…" the crates were losing content as they were spilling onto the table, until he pulled out what looked like a big, beat up 12-volt battery, a few springs, and a lot that he couldn't recognize. "I'm going to teach you how to build an ignition system for… bessie over there."
"you were close. her name is bonnie."
"bonnie. how cute." the sarcasm dripping from tony's voice was apparent. steve frowned. instead of feeling any remorse, like steve would expect, he held everything he had gathered from his crates in his arms and turned, carefully setting each and every part in front of him. gesturing steve to move his chair a little closer, tony told him to get over here and get your hands dirty , and for once, he did.
the next two hours were spent building. explaining. re-doing. the heat was excruciating, and although the sun had set long ago, steve had slow beads of sweat rolling down his nose that tony would comment on every time. but on the other hand, if steve caught a glimpse of tony watching him after demonstrating how to connect wires, he wouldn't say a word.
they didn't sit in silence. now that tony knew what this guy's deal was, he was free to fuck around. tony told him about living in manhattan, steve told him about living in brooklyn. tony brought up robots, and steve came back with something about being afraid of robots taking over. after a while, they ran out of things to say.
"do you want a drink?"
at first, the question caught steve off-guard. he had been perched on his knees for 10 minutes, trying to keep his focus on something that he just didn’t understand, so a break came as a godsend.
"um, I don't drink."
"water?"
steve, looking up at tony from the ground, wiped his dirt-stained hands on the seat of his blue jeans. "I drink water." with that, tony disappeared out the front door. he had gone out back to a freezer chest he kept locked up behind the garage and grabbed two almost frozen water bottles, then held one up to his forehead as he came back in to meet the other.
steve had moved from his place on the dirt ground to sitting on the stool where he once resided, now matching tony's height while he sat. when tony handed over the ice-cold plastic bottle, their fingers brushed against each other. neither of them moved, only looking at each other. instead of saying anything, tony dared to take another step forward.
"you learn fast. anyone ever told you that?"
their hands had moved apart. tony took a seat on the edge of the wooden table while the two of them broke the seals of their water bottles, chugging them like they were trying to outdo each other. tony would be lying if he said he didn’t try.
"my mom. and now, tony stark. that's quite a list I've got going."
"well, so far, so good." the two of them let their eyes drift around the room before tony slid his hand across the rough tabletop, close enough to steve's that he could touch, but far enough to pull away. but without a second thought, steve let his index finger reach out and drag across the top of tony's. instinctively, tony yanked his hand away, but they maintained eye contact.
"oh, shit. I'm sorry," he jumped down from his place on the table and shook his head, immediately taking a few steps back, almost bumping into the bike.
"tony--" steve is almost immediately cut off.
"you know, you almost had it with that stator. if you would have given it five more minutes of attention like you should have, you'd really…" tony sighed, looking over the progress they had made. "be onto something here." their DIY project, as tony called it, was sitting beside the front tire, almost brought to life. all they had to do was mount it to the bike with a soldering iron and feed the wires through to the engine, and they were done. simple as that.
"mr. stark," steve insisted, a little firmer this time. now, tony shut up. "you don't have to run away from me."
that was the first time tony had ever heard that.
tony dropped to his knees in front of the bike and immediately took the wire into his hand, the other carefully weaving it past the exposed metal of the engine. if he could just connect the damn wires, he would be done by now. he could hear steve push the stool that sat at his table back and take a few steps until he stood behind him, but neither of them spoke. tony had been out in the middle of nowhere for a year by now with no other contact besides the occasional lost traveler, much like steve. but this was someone who took his time to learn without qualms, someone who was eager with intent, and someone who wasn't a complete… idiot.
when tony finally turned his head over his shoulder to look at the other, he was met with a soft gaze. you don't have to run away from me. you don't have to run away from me. you don't have to run away from me.
eagerly connecting the last of the exposed wire to the engine, tony narrowed his eyes and let out a slow, quiet breath.
"uh, actually, I'm not running from anything," tony challenged, knowing it was against his better judgement. starting a fight with a stranger when he's twice your size and stacked maybe wouldn't be his best idea - but he's had a lot of bad ideas. but to his surprise, steve didn't fight him back. instead, he took one step closer and put his hand out for tony to take as a form of apology.
"I'm sorry I overstepped your boundaries."
tony's eyes glanced at steve's hand before he pushed it away, getting to his feet himself. "we all make mistakes," he nodded to himself, moving to the table and beginning to pack up the mess he had made with scrap parts only hours before. it was midnight, and steve rogers was still standing in his garage. "you can't take that thing out on the road. not when it's this… dark out there. sorry. safety hazard." the thought of a dimly lit road haunted him.
"it sounds like I'm sleeping in the dirt, then."
"I have a perfectly good… floor."
steve just smiled at him. "that's nice of you, tony."
tony spent the rest of the hour rattling off about motorcycles, soccer, and green smoothies as the two of them officially closed up shop, with steve yawning as he shrugged on the knapsack that had been sitting in the corner. steve had mentioned his record collection, which tony found more impressive than not. tony told him about the cars he collected, and promised steve would see them someday, and that he'd be missing out if he didn't. steve would hold him to that.
after they had locked the doors with the bike inside, the walk back to tony's isolated home was long, but the space between them was more than enough company. as soon as they disappeared in the dark after they emerged from underneath a small, shining street lamp, steve brazenly put his hand on tony's shoulder as they walked.
tony's first thought was to jerk his shoulder away and to tell steve not to touch him, tell him not to get in his personal space. his second thought was to realize how good it felt to be touched. the idea of being touched by another person was something he ached for. after leaving new york city and migrating a little, the only person he had made a connection with was the same man who slid a glass of brown liquor his way every afternoon at lunch, like clockwork. but they had never so much as shaken hands.
steve's hand was soft against his shoulder as he moved it across tony's back and onto the opposite side, moving in closer between them as they walked together. looking up at him under the light of the midnight moon, tony saw a man who could bring him back to life.
by the time tony was unlocking his front door, he could hardly focus. his home was roughly a mile from his garage, and rightfully hidden away in the hills. "normally, I take the hot rod down there, skip the walk," tony started. "but today was a fluke."
his home stood at two stories and was painted rusty brown. once they were let inside, steve was able to see the beautiful, large windows that stood from floor that reached to the ceiling. the furniture was rustic, yet modern. art that steve could recognize hung on the walls of the living room, whereas the art in the hallway were abstract and unintelligible.
setting his knapsack onto the long brown leather sectional, steve took a seat next to it and politely looked up at tony, giving him a quirky half-smile. "thank you, tony. for everything. I mean it."
tony, who had since made his way to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, brushed it off quickly. "don't mention it. just… tell all your friends, family, the press -- maybe the vatican?"
steve laughed. and when he did, tony watched him. he felt his chest ache.
"the vatican. I'll have to get in touch with the pope."
"he's a busy guy," tony paused, taking a quick, albeit dramatic, drink from his glass. he poured the rest down the sink drain and left it sitting on the counter as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, striding toward the hallway that led to his bedroom. "well, I'm beat. wake up call is at 6am, we'll head back to the shop after I get some coffee in me, and we'll say sayonara."
steve sat back on the couch, undoing his belt buckle and the button on his jeans. tony didn't look away.
"6am. I'll see you in the morning, then," steve took a beat. "mr. stark."
they left it at that.
inside tony's bedroom, he didn't sleep. he couldn't sleep. his heart beat quickly and his breathing grew erratic, but nothing was wrong. things were fine. every time his clock ticked, he would be thinking about something else. every breath he took felt like he was breathing in for hours. his black tank top was loose against his frame, and yet he still felt suffocated.
at 3:51 in the morning, tony sat up and caught his breath, wiping his eyes and forehead from the sweat that pricked against his skin, quickly getting out of his bed and pulling open his bedroom door slowly as to not make a sound. barefoot, he padded down his hardwood hallway until he turned into the living room, facing steve on the couch.
"what are you doing up?"
steve sounded soft in the middle of the night. normally, tony would jump out of shock and act like nothing happened. instead, he took a few steps closer, reaching for a stray pillow that sat on the opposite end of the couch where steve laid, hugging another pillow close to his chest.
"couldn't sleep," tony muttered, clutching the pillow he had grabbed and tossing it on the floor. "uh, back pain. they say it helps if you sleep on the floor."
"and here I was, thinking that was a myth."
tony could hear him smiling through his words. as he moved to lay on his back, settling himself on the floor, the moonlight came in through the large window behind the couch, illuminating the other. for just one second, it felt like steve was meant to be seen in the shining glow of the moon.
as steve got comfortable once again, he turned his entire body to face outward, keeping his pillow against himself as he closed his eyes. tony could only look up at him as he unraveled his arm from the hug he was giving himself and draped it down the front of the couch, gently reaching out his fingers.
"goodnight, tony. thank you."
tony swallowed silently, keeping his eyes fixed on steve's hand beside him.
"yeah. no problem. 'night."
when he reached out to take his hand and intertwined their fingers, tony could rest.