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According to the newspaper, Tony Stark had invented Dum-E, a hydraulic robot arm that responds to voice commands via an Artificial Intelligence interface, though not one that is particularly complicated (not that the newspaper - not a scientific journal, just a plain newspaper - comments on the simplicity of it, just the complexities), all by himself. There were many things that the article could not comment upon: the simplicity of the interface, the complexity of the hardware, the work of two sets of hands. There are a lot of things you can’t notice about a device if you didn’t work on it or don’t know what you’re looking for, and if you don’t know what Rhodey’s hatchmarks look like, you might just miss them, but Tony never does.
Even if Rhodey can never take credit aloud, Tony knows what his work looks like.
He would have never entered Dum-E into any stupid competition if his father hadn’t found him, but he couldn’t tell Howard that he was sneaking Rhodey into the manor, and he couldn’t tell Howard that he was working with someone, and he couldn’t tell Howard that he has a best friend, because any relationship softer than an ally or an arranged marriage is sure to burn the fucking house down. Stark men are made of iron.
He’s hardly a man at sixteen, is he?
Rhodey already knows about the competitions that Dum-E is in, already knows about the newspaper articles and Howard’s press teams, and everything, but Tony still feels fucking sick. He’s half Rhodey’s baby, and Rhodey should be getting the credit - Rhodey is seventeen, should be getting his first foothold in the inventing community, shouldn’t be thinking about joining the military like his old man because it’ll help him get some respect. Howard is at the California house, shouldn’t come back for another two weeks. Rhodey should be here in ten minutes or so, so Tony sits in the window and waits for him just like he did for his dad when he was a little kid who still hoped his father would like him.
He sits in the window seat that his mother sometimes likes to use when she’s in the New York house for long enough to lay eyes on him (she’s in Milan this time), and waits for Rhodey. Waits for his best friend, because James Rhodes is the best friend that he’s ever had in his life, and he deserves more than the credit differential that he’s getting.
“Anthony, your friend has arrived,” Jarvis announces, at which point Tony realizes that he had been staring into space rather than into the driveway, where Rhodey had pulled in. Jarvis has been keeping the secret of Rhodey for months, just perfectly pleased that Tony had been making friends at MIT at all, and he had been all too willing to keep a secret from Howard for Tony’s “emotional wellbeing,” whatever that meant. Tony springs up from the window seat, going to the door to grab Rhodey and take him to his room and lab, two connected rooms that he’s had since he turned twelve.
“Hey Tones,” Rhodey says, but no one has time to have conversations in public.
“Hey Rhodey,” Tony says anyway, pushing down the scared-sorry-sad feeling that wants to bubble up and make him apologize before he gets Rhodey back to his room. Rhodey stops him in the middle of a hallway, crowding him against the wall. Damn James Rhodes for his superior height (only a few inches) and strength (okay maybe he’s quite a bit better than Tony in that department).
“Tony, what’s wrong?” Rhodey asks, his voice taking on that gentle hurt-animal thing that he used to use with Tony when Tony was fourteen and he had just arrived at MIT and started drinking and Rhodey needed him to nip that shit in the bud so they could be friends. Tony breathes in and out slowly so he can speak, and Rhodey rubs his arm up and down, and then he can talk.
“The article. The competitions. Our son,” Tony says, not making much sense, but Rhodey still gets him, huffing out a laugh. Tony tilts his head, confused, a little hurt, in that please don’t make fun of me holdover way from when he was in middle school for six months when he was eight.
“Tony, I’m not mad at you,” Rhodey says, pulling him into a brief hug, kissing the side of his forehead before pulling back. Tony looks at him desperately.
“You’re not mad?” he asks. Rhodey snorts, shaking his head.
“Oh I’m pissed. I’m pissed as fuck. Howard had no right to make you do anything you didn’t wanna do and I wanna ring that motherfucker’s neck. But you didn’t get to decide here either, Tony. How do you feel about it?” he needles, making Tony think about his own feelings for the first time. He thinks about the fact that Rhodey didn’t get any credit, his best fucking friend, that Howard’s name has been in the papers just as much as his own, he thinks about the fact that Dum-E wasn’t ready, that the interface is supposed to be so much more complex, he thinks about how Rhodey is his cornerstone, the center of his known universe, and he does what makes sense.
He kisses Rhodey.
For one, horrible, terrible and terrifying second, Rhodey is stock and stone still, and Tony is kissing a statue (and badly, because he’s never kissed anyone before, and Rhodey has kissed people before, he knows, because he went to sleepaway military camp when he was 13 and that’s the real reason why he’s a “year behind” Tony and anyway that’s where he had his first kisses and he told Tony about it and he knows Rhodey has kissed before). But then Rhodey kisses him back and the terror is replaced by relief and joy and Rhodey’s hands on his face and Tony has no idea what to do with his hands - he’s sixteen, he’s never kissed anyone before, he’s sixteen, this is Rhodey, this is Rhodey - but god, this is the best moment of his life.
“I don’t wanna do anything without you ever again,” Tony says, the most honest he’s ever been in his life, and maybe it’s the sixteen years old jumping out of his mouth, but he believes it.
Rhodey kisses him again, and maybe he believes it too.