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Everyone knows that Tony would die for Rhodey. It’s as easy to see as green grass or a blue sky. He would burn everything down for Rhodey.
Something that others don’t catch onto is how willing Rhodey is to do the exact same. Rhodey doesn’t often tell people his side of the story of how the two met.
As it turns out, Rhodey wasn’t supposed to be in room 63-J, he was supposed to be in 65-J. Due to mix-ups in housing and a particularly horrible employee, Rhodey was moved into what was supposed to be a private room.
“I’m, um, sorry,” Rhodey says. “I can move to a different room, I just have to email the people–”
“Uh-uh, don’t worry about it,” Tony says, eyes shining. “There’s more than enough space in here, and I’d really prefer to have a roommate. I’ve never really shared anything before!”
Tony is a small seventeen year old. Rhodey is eighteen, takes one look at this kid who could honestly pass for fifteen, and realizes that he knows nothing about the real world. Absolutely nothing. His head is empty, and he has no idea about that either.
So Rhodey stays. He teaches Tony how to do things, although Tony isn’t completely helpless. He loves doing laundry and he knows how to cook some serious gourmet shit.
This is how Rhodey learns how to make his own pasta, and Tony smiles as he smears flour against his cheek.
Rhodey teaches Tony what coffee to drink, which restaurants are the best. (This does not stop Tony from eating at Burger King near-religiously.) Tony learns how to dress how he wants, and to stop showing up to classes in what is essentially a full suit.
Tony falls in love with old jeans, worn band tees that he finds after combing through racks of all the thrift stores.
He laughs as he makes Rhodey get a neon orange fanny pack.
“Since you claim you always lose your shit at parties,” Tony teases, grinning.
Tony’s a kid.
And yet…not a kid.
He knows immediately who to trust, who to avoid. The way he phrases things has Rhodey’s head going in circles. He’s brilliant with people, to a point where he can drive anyone away.
Except for Rhodey.
He made a promise over Thanksgiving break, when Tony realized that his mother penned a note explaining that “darling, your father and I are still in the Maldives, so you have free reign of the house for Thanksgiving…”
It meant that he would be Completely Alone.
Well, Rhodey wasn’t having that.
“If I have to clean the carpet, I’m forcing you with me,” Rhodey says. “And I promised that I would bring a dessert, and I know that you make killer tiramisu.”
“If I only have to prove that I’m clearly the better roommate, then so be it,” Tony says dramatically. “Take me away, Jim-dear.”
(He cannot stop calling him that after they stole the VCR of Lady and the Tramp from the English department’s catalog. Not like they’re gonna miss it.
Rhodey cannot stop thinking about how much he really, actually loves it, that nickname.)
Tony is shy when he gets to the house, although Dad immediately pulls Tony into the family.
“Rhodey promised us a dessert but I know that he didn’t inherit my cooking skills, so I’m assuming he’s just promised you,” he says.
“Yes he has, Mr. Rhodes,” Tony says, grinning. “How do you feel about tiramisu?”
Tony later on impresses Mrs. Rhodes–from that night on, referred to lovingly as “Mama”–with his piano playing skills. Tony’s perfect memory reads notes as if he’s always known them, and plays piano with a skilled sort of ease. He even adds his own little stylings, making it even better as Rhodey watches his parents dance.
They haven’t done that in years, not since Rhodey was little and they still had the old record player with Billie Holiday and Duke Ellington records stacked to the side among others.
Tony laughs along with the music, grinning as his little sister tells him every single embarrassing story about Rhodey.
“He thought watermelons grew on trees,” Jeannette says, cackling. “Can you believe that?!”
“I can,” Tony says, putting a finger to his chin. “And I think that if no one had told you, you still would.”
“Of course if no one had told me I still would! That’s how belief works!” Rhodey calls out.
“Shush,” Mama says, smoothing a hand over Rhodey’s hair. “Some people are dumb, baby, it’s okay.”
Rhodey makes an offended squawk, and Tony laughs.
They go to sleep in Rhodey’s bed. It’s a queen, not like they both can’t fit onto it.
And if Rhodey wakes with Tony curled into his arms, soft breathing? If Rhodey realizes that life could be like this all the time if they really wanted it to?
Well. It’s not the worst thought in the world to have. Not by a long shot.
-
This feeling continues on long after they graduate, when they start spending every holiday they can together. They always make a dessert together and Rhodey always gets something Super Shit from the thrift store.
Last year, it was a mug proclaiming “Best Regional Staff Manager of 1978.” He has just discovered that he could custom-order a burnt orange shag carpet, and Tony will put it into his bedroom.
And then Afghanistan.
Rhodey grieves like nothing else. He is almost always dehydrated from crying, he can barely eat, and Pepper has to check in on him.
“You smell bad,” she tells him one night.
“I know.”
“Go shower.”
“Later.”
“No, now. I swear to god if Tony knew you smelled this disgusting, he’d douse you in Chanel no. 5, and I know how you feel about that.”
Rhodey manages to get out a small smile.
He showers. He feels a bit better.
And he starts looking.
Everyone in his squad and in the military itself thinks he’s crazy for still looking. The chances of Tony being alive are less than fifty percent. He is most likely dead, but Rhodey can’t stop looking. He just can’t.
He gets Tony in his arms months later, skinny and frail and yet still so alive. Rhodey tells him he’ll never let go.
“Not even to let me take a wizz?” Tony asks, smile weak. Rhodey laughs and lets a little bit of tears slip out.
He does something that was not supposed to happen.
He leaves the military.
Realizes that that isn’t what he wants, night after night, to count down days until he’s back in Tony’s arms. He wants to work alongside his someone, to smile at him, and cook breakfast.
It’s at this time when Tony keeps coming into his room.
“Like old times?” he asks. Begs, almost. Rhodey nods.
“Always, Tones. You know that.”
Tony introduces him to Iron Man, and Rhodey oohs and ah’s, questioning what works and why it had to be that garish, bold red.
“Aw sweetheart, who else would pick such a color scheme?”
Rhodey grins and asks when he’s getting his own suit.
“I do not believe in a god, but I think I might start praying,” Jarvis says dryly, and they both snicker.
It is Rhodey who helps keep Tony from working himself to the bone, forcing him to come with him.
“Come on, it’s pizza night and you have to help me make breadsticks otherwise I’m not putting on enough garlic butter.”
“Rhodey I know that you love garlic butter so this is essentially an empty threat but I will and can kill you.”
Rhodey snorts as Tony chases him around the kitchen.
Then the Avengers.
Natalie Rushman comes into Tony’s life, and Rhodey just knows she isn’t who she says she is.
Doesn’t help that Tony’s reckless and trying to hide a pretty impressive crossword along his chest.
What’s an eleven-letter-word meaning “a destroying agency?”
(Destruction.)
He doesn’t let her even near Tony.
“I’m supposed to be here,” Natalie says plainly. She has a coy smile on her face.
She does not know that for a wild variety of reasons, this will not work on Rhodey.
“So am I,” Rhodey says evenly. “So I guess we’ve come to a stalemate. I’ll give him the paperwork. You can ask Pepper about the gala’s appetizers and security measures, as I’m sure you have questions.”
He knows she doesn’t. He also knows that Tony won’t look into her because he’s–
He’s busy.
Just that.
(Not dying, his brain whispers insidiously. Not planning a trip six feet or below.)
Rhodey does not blow off Tony when they have a fight in the house, when Tony wants everyone to leave and get out and tries to get Rhodey to leave by saying he’s a sidekick.
“You idiot,” Rhodey scowls. “If I’m a sidekick, what does that make you? The very minor character?”
“What? No, I’m Iron Man–”
“Yeah, but still. I think Pepper or someone else would be the main character. Quit being an idiot and help me clean up the glass you shot at, asshole.”
Tony doesn’t like knowing that Rhodey knows. He also doesn’t like Pepper screams about an omelet and how “It wasn’t even that good Tony! How did you mess up eggs! You didn’t even get any seasoning!”
Rhodey laughs. Helps Tony discover that a.) SHIELD is a bunch of assholes collectively getting a salary, and b.) Howard still had tricks up his sleeve.
But tricks are tricks.
You get a solution? Well, that’s even better.
Tony smells like metal and coconuts, and Rhodey whoops with joy.
Tony kisses him on the lips, and it’s amazing and he definitely wants more of that, and–
“Okay we gotta go take down an evil genius,” Tony says, grinning. “Come on sugar-plum.”
War Machine and Iron Man work like a dream together, and they’re panting and tired but smiling at the end of all of this.
“Sour patch, we need a vacation,” Tony says. “We need to just. Lay somewhere.”
“Agreed, honey.”
So after all of these years, they become an item. A couple. People who love each other and don’t get too mad when someone else eats all of the butternut squash soup (Rhodey).
And Tony will tell anyone who listens how in love he fell, so hard, and Rhodey will smile and agree.
But he’s pretty sure that he’s the one who fell first.