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When Jim had gotten the letter informing him that he’d been assigned as a roommate to Anthony Fucking Stark , he had almost called up the residence office and informed them that it wasn’t going to happen, and he wanted to be reassigned to literally anybody else. He’d worked his ass off to get into MIT and the last thing he wanted was to be saddled with some rich, white child -- he was only fifteen, for fuck’s sake -- who had been pretty much guaranteed a spot anywhere from birth, just because of who his father was.
He had actually been on hold with Mia in the Reassignment department when his mother had walked into the room, glanced at the phone he was holding in one hand and the letter he had in the other, and had hummed in that way she had.
“What?” Jim asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Nothing,” she assured him, with a pointed look at the paper in his hands. “I just feel bad for that boy, is all.”
“Bad?” Jim repeated incredulously. “Momma, he’s one of the richest kids in America. He’s had everything he’s ever wanted.”
“Still. Can’t be easy to grow up with that kind of pressure, all those expectations.” She had leaned in, kissing him on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Jimmy, but you know I’d be proud of you no matter what you did, right?”
Jim had hung up the phone.
*
There was no sign of Stark or his family or even any hired help the entire time that Jim and his family were moving his stuff into the dorm. He’d half expected Anthony to already be there, some sort of Early Move-In Day just for rich people. But since he wasn’t there, Jim refused to feel guilty for taking the good bed beside the bigger window. Maybe Anthony had changed his mind and decided to go to CalTech instead, and Jim could have the whole room to himself.
After getting all his stuff moved in, he had to see his family off. Then there was ‘mandatory’ Frosh Teambuilding, which consisted of a bunch of juvenile trust activities that felt more like the kind of stuff white people did at summer camp on TV. And then there was dinner, and then a ‘mandatory’ floor meeting going over all the rules of living on campus, after which he’d wandered over to the student union building and almost immediately gotten pulled into a truly painful conversation with one of the guys from his assigned frosh group.
By the time he was making his way back to the dorm, he was exhausted and had all but forgotten about his MIA roommate. Distracted with thinking about his bed, and the things he had to get done before classes started, it took him a minute to process what he was seeing when he stepped into his room and found the previously unoccupied side of the room fully decorated, complete with a large television and an NES. He blinked a minute, and then spotted Anthony Stark himself, sitting on the window sill over Jim’s bed, thank you very much, leaning out the window to smoke a cigarette. He was wearing tight jeans and a polo shirt, the collar popped, with a pair of expensive sunglasses dangling from the neck, and Jim shook his head.
“Oh no,” he declared.
He hadn’t actually meant to say that outloud, but Anthony didn’t seem offended. He looked lazily over at Jim, lips curling into a smirk around his cigarette as he gave Jim a slow look up and down.
“Hey there, handsome.”
“Oh, hell no,” Jim reiterated. “I’m gonna tell you right now. This? Isn’t how things are gonna go with us.”
Anthony blinked at him, looking mildly taken aback. “I’m sorry?”
“This.” Jim gestured wildly at him. “This whole… Too cool for school bullshit persona thing you’ve got going on? I’m not doing it.”
“Excuse me?” Anthony looked faintly amused which, Jim realized belatedly, was probably good since he likely had enough clout to get Jim kicked out of MIT entirely. “It’s not bullshit,” he added, with a dramatic pout around his cigarette that was entirely too sexy to be on a fifteen-year-old’s lips.
Jim rolled his eyes. “Right, so you’re just actually that fucking cool, huh?” he asked, voice dry. “Whatever you say man.”
Anthony tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing as he looked more closely at Jim. Jim had the uncanny feeling that Anthony was looking right into him, but he just set his hands on his lips, staring impassively back at him.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked finally.
It wasn’t said with an attitude; Anthony sounded genuinely curious, like he thought Jim might have somehow missed that fact somewhere along the way. Jim rolled his eyes anyway.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re Anthony Stark, boy genius, richest kid in America or whatever. I don’t really give a shit, man. I’m just here to get my engineering degree, and move on. I already did this bullshit in high school. I don’t need to go through it again.”
“Huh.” Tony took another slow drag of his cigarette, pursing his lips and dragging it out. It would have been embarrassing, how hard he was trying to look sexy, except he didn’t have that awkward edge most kids his age did. It seemed almost natural, giving him the uncanny appearance of being older than fifteen, even if his features said otherwise, and Jim shifted a little uncomfortably. “It’s Tony, actually,” he said finally, tilting his head back to blow smoke out the window. “And you’re James Rhodes?”
“Jim,” he corrected, grudgingly. Tony nodded, giving him a smoldering look and flicking his tongue over his lips, and Jim glared. “Stop that!” he squawked. “You’re fifteen, it’s fucking creepy. And put that out, while you’re at it. Smoking’ll kill you, and I don’t want your nasty ass smoke on my sheets.”
Tony stared at him and then shrugged, pressing the cigarette against the sill and then flicking the butt out the window. He didn’t bother to shut it before he hopped down off the ledge. “Well, Rhodey ,” he drawled the nickname, smirking at Jim with smokey eyes. “Gotta say, I didn’t expect you to be so lame.”
Jim didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m not lame,” he told him, grabbing his toiletries kit to get ready for bed. “Told you, man. I’m just not here for the bullshit.”
When he came back from the bathroom, Tony had stripped down to his boxers, was spread across his bed like some kind of Playgirl model. Jim ignored him, flipping out the light and crawling into his own bed with a contented sigh. He was already starting to drift when Tony spoke into the dark space.
“I’m taking engineering too.”
“Yeah? We’re at MIT, dude. You, me, and half the campus.”
Tony huffed out a sigh. “Electrical engineering, since you asked.”
Jim hummed a vague acknowledgement and hesitated a moment. “Aviation,” he relented through a yawn. “Gonna be a pilot.”
If Tony answered, Jim was asleep before he heard it.
*
Tony, it seemed, didn’t know what to do with Jim. He didn’t let up on flirting, constantly trying to be sexy, but it quickly seemed to be less with intent and more just to irritate Jim. After the first day of classes, while Jim was getting a start on the five billion readings he had to do, Tony had wandered in from his own classes and immediately started taking apart his NES -- it seemed this was a common thread with Tony. He’d already taken apart and put back together his television and his VCR. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except that he couldn’t seem to stop rambling while he did it, name dropping about fifty famous people he knew, ranging from politicians to celebrities. Jim had just grunted occasionally, doing his best to tune him out, until he yelped when a pencil hit the back of his head. He turned to see Tony smiling beguilingly.
“Hey, did you hear me? That’s Sean Connery. You know, James Bond?” he asked, like Jim lived under a rock or something.
“I heard,” Jim said and then, because the pencil had hurt and he was feeling a little mean. “Doesn’t he advocate for hitting women?”
Tony just looked confused, like he couldn’t understand Jim’s lack of reaction, and he sighed.
“Look man, that’s cool and all, and I love James Bond as much as the next guy, but at the end of the day they’re just people. Unless you’re planning to set me up with Phoebe Cates, my homework is a bigger priority right now.”
So Tony had started leaving expensive things around the dorm room. There were more sunglasses, and platinum cufflinks, and bottles of high quality liquor that Jim had immediately made him shove under the bed because they were both technically underage now. Tony had just looked more and more confused the less interested Jim seemed, and then had come home the next day with an Atari 7800, which wasn’t even supposed to be released until the next year.
That, Jim had to admit, was pretty cool, especially since Tony immediately offered him a controller. And that was what he couldn’t figure out about Tony Stark. He didn’t hesitate to share everything he had. He’d offered up his tv and gaming systems almost right away, was constantly bringing home snacks and junk food and giving half of them to Jim, and when Jim had been running late one day and couldn’t find his own, he hasn’t hesitated to offer up a pair of his ultra expensive Ray Bans, telling Jim not to worry about returning them. He was a twerp, but he was also unfailingly generous, and Jim wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that.
So when he came home to find Tony reading some scifi novel at his desk just a little too casually, and a Rolex watch ‘accidentally’ sitting in the middle of Jim’s bed, he just sighed and dropped it on Tony’s book.
“Oh thanks!” Tony said brightly. “I was looking for that.”
Jim refrained from pointing out that it was the first thing he saw when he walked into the room.
“Hey!” Tony added when he started to turn back to the work waiting for him. “Did I tell you about my Ferrari 288 GTO?”
Jim hesitated long enough to arch an eyebrow at him. “Are you even old enough to drive?” he asked, heading over to his desk.
For a moment it was quiet, and then: “Okay, I give up,” Tony burst out, causing Jim to turn back around to face him with a startled look. “I can’t figure you out. Is it me specifically, or are you just allergic to fun? Seriously dude, does nothing impress you?”
Jim gave him a look. “Have you been trying to impress me?”
“Not like that.” Tony rolled his eyes, ignoring the fact that he’d spent the better part of their interactions flirting outrageously. “Just, you know… That’s how you connect with people, right? Show off your shit and compare notes, and decide what’s better…” He trailed off at the look on Jim’s face. “What?”
“Rich people are fucking weird, man.”
Tony frowned at him. “What does that mean?”
“Just… Sounds exhausting, constantly trying to outdo each other.”
Tony was still frowning, and Jim felt a little bit bad.
“Hey, you know what I’d actually find impressive? Seeing if you’re actually here for any reason besides your name. We’re a week into school and I haven’t seen you do one bit of work.”
Tony’s jaw dropped. “Because I’m a genius!” he protested, and he didn’t sound like he was bragging, just stating a simple fact. “I built a circuit board when I was three!” he added, but there was a sparkle in his eyes now.
“I don’t know…” Jim smirked at him. “That was like twelve years ago, man. What have you done since?”
Tony narrowed his eyes briefly and then he was skittering over to his desk. “I’ll show you I deserve to be here,” he grumbled, pulling the bottom drawer out entirely, and apparently he wasn’t as entirely obsessed with looking cool as Jim had first thought, because the entire drawer was filled to the brim with Lego bricks. “Okay,” he said, grinning up at Jim. It was a good look on him. “We’ve got fifteen minutes to build a Lego machine. Best design wins.”
*
Jim wandered through the party, wincing against the glare of the strobe light. Despite what Tony seemed to think, he wasn’t actually that lame, and he did enjoy a good party. This, however, wasn’t really his scene. The house was packed dangerously full, men and women alike mostly naked -- he’d touched more random body parts than he ever had before in his life -- and in general everything just had that edge of too wild that usually meant the police were five minutes out. He’d been supposed to meet up with a guy from one of his classes, but he hadn’t seen any sign of him and he was done with looking.
Jim started to make his way for the front door, and then stopped as he spotted a tuft of curly brown hair that was already becoming familiar. “Oh no,” he muttered, letting his eyes fall shut for just a moment.
He thought about leaving Tony there, he really did. He was his roommate, not his responsibility. But then a voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother reminded him that Tony was only fifteen, still a kid. And then he thought about how desperately Tony had been trying to win him over all week with stuff and money, because that was apparently how he thought things were done, and how easy it would be for someone to take advantage of that. When he found himself picturing the pleased smile Tony’d had when he finished his rubber band Lego car, almost startlingly innocent compared to the way he’d been acting, Jim knew he was stuck.
Grumbling under his breath, he started shoveling his way through the crowd to where he’d last seen his wayward roommate. Of course by then he’d wandered off again, and it was a good ten minutes before Jim managed to track him down to some little room that he’d missed at first.
Tony was sprawled out on a couch, his dress shirt fully unbuttoned, and he was giggling as two girls in bikinis kissed their way over his neck. His movements were lazy and his eyes unfocused in a way that suggested that he’d had more than just booze, but his face lit up when he spotted Jim. “Hey!” he slurred. “‘S my Rhodeybear.”
Jim blinked once at the nickname. “Right.” The two girls looked as out of it as Tony was, but there was a guy watching the whole scene with sharp, sober eyes that Jim didn’t like at all. Mustering up every bit of his ROTC confidence, he strode over to the couch and bodily pulled Tony to his feet. “Come on, Tones. Time to go home.”
“Awww,” Tony whined, but he didn’t actually make any attempt to resist. “Five more minutes?”
“Nope,” Jim declared, just as one of the girls reached up and caught Tony’s hand, giving him a half-hearted tug back toward the couch.
“Yeah, jus’ five more minutes? We’re jus’ gettin’ started.”
“And he’s fifteen, so that’s illegal.”
“Rhodeyyyy,” Tony whined, finishing his name with a giggle. “Why you gotta give away all my secrets? C’mon le’s stay. They’re my friends. Didn’t even hafta do anything to impress ‘em, like you said.”
“Yeah.” Jim glanced back over to the corner, where the guy’s smirk had turned to glare. Jim was pretty sure that there was a video camera on the floor beside his feet. “They’re not your friends, Tony.” Heart starting to pound, he slung an arm around Tony’s waist and hustled him out the door before anyone could make a real attempt at stopping them.
Outside, Tony was in even worse condition than Jim had realized. He didn’t think he was in any danger healthwise, except maybe from puking, but he could barely stand on his own, needed Jim’s constant support to walk, and he was frighteningly pliable, happily going along with whatever Jim said. Jim had expected to be annoyed with Tony, at having to babysit him. Fifteen or not, surely he knew better? But mostly he was just pissed at the asshole who had tried to take advantage of him like this. He was just a kid, and clearly oblivious, and using his inability to understand how normal, non-rich humans interacted to try and hurt him had Jim seething. The more he thought about it the angrier he got, and if he hadn’t been busy with having to half-drag Tony back to their dorm, he might have gone back just to punch the guy in the face.
He managed to get them into their room without getting caught by anyone, at which point he’d helped Tony strip down to his boxers -- less awkward than he’d expected -- and slide into the bed. Tony had moaned blearily, rubbing his face against the cool sheets like he was feverish, so after dragging his garbage can close in case he did puke, Jim grabbed a washcloth and darted into the bathroom to rinse it with cold water.
When he got back, Tony was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, lolling his head back and forth over the pillow in a way that Jim had vague memories of his baby sister doing as a toddler. He passed over the washcloth and Tony closed one eye and then the other, trying to focus on it.
“Wassat for?”
“It’s a cool compress. For your head?”
Tony was staring at him blankly, so Jim folded up the cloth and draped it over Tony’s forehead. “Jesus, Tones. Hasn’t anybody ever taken care of you before?”
Tony shrugged, sighing at the cool touch against his sweaty skin. “Only when they want something from me,” he mumbled, out of it enough that there was no joking, no exaggeration in his voice, just plain, simple honesty. “Oh hey!” His eyes snapped open, just as unfocused as before. “Did I tell you my thesis project yet? Gonna build a robot, one with a fully-functioning, self-learning AI.” He waved his hand in the air. “Thas not the point though. Gonna build myself a friend, Rhodey, like you said. One that doesn’t want anything from me, or expect me to buy them things… Just wansta hang out with me…” His eyes slipped shut again, voice trailing off, but Jim just stared at him with a sick feeling furling through his stomach.
“Shit, that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said. “Seriously, are those the only kinds of interactions you’ve had with people? You need real friends, Tony.”
“I have real friends,” Tony protested. “Had lots of friends in school.”
“Uh-huh.” He knew there was no point in arguing, but the sound of his voice seemed to be calming Tony a little, stilling his movements. “So which one of those real friends do you call when you’re in a jam? Who do you know that’s got your back no matter what?”
Tony was quiet for long enough that Jim thought he’d finally fallen asleep. He adjusted the cloth to be a little more comfortable on his forehead and was moving over to his own bed when Tony finally spoke.
“I called you.”
Jim glanced back over at him. Tony’s eyes were closed, but there was a little smile around his lips, like he’d come to some scientific conclusion and was really pleased with the results. Jim sighed.
“Yeah, Tones, you did,” he agreed with his own smile. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
*
When Jim woke the next morning, Tony was sprawled out on his bed, sheets kicked onto the floor and an arm flung across his eyes. He looked absolutely miserable, but he was breathing at least, so Jim left him to sleep it off, being as quiet as possible when he slipped out to the door so he wouldn’t disturb him.
When he made it back a couple hours later, Tony was awake, though he didn’t look much better. He’d hauled on sweatpants and a t-shirt but obviously hadn’t showered, and he was sitting up on his bed, blinking blearily at the TV as he watched what looked like Indiana Jones on VHS. Hiding a smile at the sight of him, Jim made his way into the room, dropping a wrapped breakfast sandwich on Tony’s lap on his way by.
Tony blinked at it for a too-long moment, looking completely confused. “What’s this?” he asked finally.
Resisting the urge to tease him about his supposed genius, Jim just arched an eyebrow. “It’s a breakfast sandwich. Thought you could use something to eat.”
“You…” Tony’s breath seemed to catch. “You bought me breakfast?”
Jim just shrugged, even though he knew it was a bigger deal than just breakfast.
“Nobody’s ever…” Tony stopped, cutting the thought off, and then smiled at Jim. “Thanks,” he told him, unwrapping it and taking a huge bite with a smile around his lips.
They settled into an easy quiet for a few minutes, and then Tony cleared his throat.
“Hey,” he said, and when Jim looked up, the smile that was around his face was softer and more shy, that overconfident attitude that he used like an armor chipping away. “I know you’ve got reading to do, but… You wanna watch Star Wars with me?”
Jim grinned at him. “Fuck yeah,” he declared, abandoning his books to climb up on the bed beside Tony. “Budge up, man.”