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When he stumbled in the street he half expected all his exhaustion to vanish, but life sucked. Tony was old now, and two sleepless nights of working and preparing for this afternoon's meeting had taken their toll on the man. He begrudgingly started to where he was parked. He fished his car keys and turned the corner. The two hours he spent stuck in traffic let him replay the disastrous meeting in his head over and over again, and wasn't that what he just needed.
The sun was already set when he dragged himself in the workshop. The weeks where Peter was at Steve's place were the weeks where he could work the most and put out most of his work. Every other week, he packed his schedule with meetings and workshop sessions so that he could spend time with his son. He pulled up ongoing projects and hollograms and revision notes and looked tiredely at his cluttered desk. A wave of exhaustion washed over him as he got to work. He wished the pot of coffee on the burner was enough to keep it at bay.
Tony jumped when his phone rang in the silent workshop. His eyes drifted to the clock on the corner of the screen. 1 a.m. He rolled his chair to the console and picked up the phone without looking at the caller's contact.
"Stark?"
Music sipped through the speaker. He could hear high pitched voices and laughter in the backgroud.
"Da- Dad?"
Tony's heart skipped a beat. Peter should be asleep in his bed at his father's place.
"Pete? Everything's okay?" he tried to ask with the most leveled voice he could muster.
Someone screamed behind him. Tony heard Peter shouting people to shut up, while brushing his fingers against the mic.
"Uh I… I'm at Flash's house the- the one with the windows-"
"Friday, pull up his position," he instructed after turning the microphone off.
"It's Ned- He's-He drank a lot and- and-"
His heart jumped in his throat. Tony tucked his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he hurriedly put his shoes on.
"Okay slow down, Peter. Are you okay?"
"Yes but-"
"Ned, did he throw up? Is he concious?"
He jumped in the car the closest to the garage door and sped through the city, following Friday's indications.
"Uh, yeah, once and- and he's sleeping I think, we're in the room-" he cut himself and shouted something about the bathroom before comming back to the phone. "The, uh, parent's room, I think. Or guest, I don't know."
"Okay, hang in there, I'm coming alright? Give him some water okay?"
After 40 minutes through the empty streets and many road infractions he found the right street, and quickly spotted the house full of drunk teens and too loud music. He realized how cold it was when the wind wipped through his thin shirt.
Some people were outside of the house, mostly smokers, given the low temperatures, that didn't seem to either recognize him or care that a 50 years old man sneaked in a highschool party. He got inside the packed house, the noise and the music ringing his hears. He pushed through the crowd, none of the kids were much older than Peter. He entered what had to be the living room. A kid tripped on his feet and bumped in Tony, half of his beer landing on Tony's shirt. The day couldn't get any better. He cursed more that he should in front of highschoolers. The kid stumbled forwards and Tony held him up and started swimming through the people again. He spotted a flight of stairs, the lower half invaded by the kids, and climbed upstairs.
He found Peter in the second room, sat next to the bed where Ned had crashed on top of way too many coats. Peter was clenching an empty glass and chewing on his sleeve when he saw Tony.
"Dad-"
"I don't want to hear it. Let's just get out of here."
Peter looked at the giant beer stain on Tony's shirt, his mouth forming an 'o' and then at his feet and nodded. Tony crouched down next to Ned and shook his shoulder until he opened his eyes.
"Ned. Can you walk? You feel sick?"
He got just a groan in response and something that sounded like 'sleep'. He ordered Peter to dig Ned's jacket up and to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. Tony sat the kid up who thankfully went along with it, and finally opened his eyes.
"Ooooh hi mi'ta sark."
"Hi Ned."
He guided the kids out if the room and then downstairs. The music was awfully loud and Tony wasn't sure if he was reacting like an old man or if it was justified. In his day it wasn't like that, and the music was actually good. He cringed inside when he realized Howard had had the same reaction to his fourteenth birthday, the last he celebrated at home.
"Pete, go to the kitchen an grab a trash bag, I'm parked in front of the house," he practically had to scream in his kid's hear.
Peter made an 'ok' gesture with his right hand instead of screaming back, and was shallowed whole by the dancing crowd a second later. As he got closer to the door, the kids got sparce, until he could actually walk without elbowing his way forward.
He pushed Ned on the the backseat and put his seat belt on. The kid's head lolled against the window and he fell asleep again, nose scrunched up on the window.
Tony felt a headache blooming behind his eyes, from stress or fatigue, he wasn't sure. He walked up and down the long of the car, trying to calm himself and not explode at his son when he'd come out. It was nearing 2 am, his eyes closed themselves at regular intervals, he definitely wasn't in shape to drive back to the city. He would have, if there wasn't two teenagers with him. He fetched his phone from the glovebox and searched for Steve's contact. Tony knew that at this time of the night he was probably asleep.
"Friday, make sure his phone rings," he said as he tucked the phone to his ear.
On the third ring, Steve picked up.
"Tony? We talked about this."
His voice was thick with sleep and annoyance of being woken up in the middle of the night by his ex-husband.
"I know, but it's an emergency."
"Isn't it always," the sound was muffled by a pillow, Tony guessed.
"I'm with Pete."
"What?!" Steve suddenly sounded very awake. Tony heard shuffles and curses on the other hand of the line before Steve came back loud and clear. "At Ned's?"
"No…" Peter got out of the house with a clean trash bag in hand. Tony watched as he crunched his face in disgust as he passed the smokers and quickened his pace to arrive at the car. "He was at party. I'm dropping them at your place."
Peter's mouth twisted when he understood who Tony was talking to, and started to violently shake his head and whispering pleads to his dad, hands coming together like if he was praying. Tony pointed his thumb at the back of the car, and with one sharp flick of his wrist, Peter was dragging himself to the other side of the car and slammed the door shut behind him.
"He told me he was at Ned's-"
"Yeah, and I'm sure Ned told his parents he was at your place."
There was some more curses and shuffle before they hung up. The cold and the beer-soaked shirt made the whole ordeal just a little bit worse. Tony took a second to breath the cold air and regain his composure before sliding behind the wheel.
"Dad-"
"Don't," he snapped. So much for composure.
He drove away, purposefully ignoring Peter's glares in the mirror. In a few minutes they arrived at Steve's house. The man was waiting for them at the door, apparently unbothered by the ice cold air in just sweatpants and a t-shirt that wa s a size or two too small, and now was not the time to think about Steve's too tight shirt. Tony parked roughly and got out of the car, still fuming despite his best efforts to calm himself. He opened Ned's door and helped the kid to his feet, visibly swaying and unhappy to not be sleeping. He nodded to Steve as he passed the door.
He led him the kid to Peter's room and sat him on the bed. He removed his shoes and jacket. Ned didn't resist one bit when he gave him a push to the shoulder to lay him down.
"Is he gonna be alright?"
Peter was anxiously waiting at the door, Steve hovering in the background. Tony scoffed.
"Yeah, thank god drinking three beers never killed anyone, I wouldn't have made it to college."
Tony got out of the room to get a bucket and a bottle of water. He brushed against Steve on his way to the kitchen. The man grabbed his arm, just hard enough to stop him.
"Did you drink anything?" he whispered, out of Peter's earshot.
It took Tony a good second to get where the question came from, and then looked down at his shirt, as to make sure it was what Steve was talking about.
"No, a kid dropped his beer on me. By the way, I'll steal one of your shirt to go home," he added as he walked away from his husba- ex-husband. God he was tired.
Once Ned and his bucket were settled, they closed the door and went to the living room.
"Call Mrs. Leeds,"he instructed to Peter.
"They'll kill him!"
"I would worry about someone else if I were you. That was incredibly stupid-"
Steve put a firm hand on Tony's shoulder. He opened his hand out to Peter.
"Give me your phone," he said in a tone that didn't leave room for argument. Steve had that military way of dealing with Peter, or anything, really.
He took the phone and found the contact. He called, and waited several rings before Mr. Leeds answered. Steve explain the situation, in a calm voice that made even Tony relax the tiniest bit.
He handed back the phone to Peter when he was done.
"They're coming to pick him up."
Peter shuffled on his feet, eyes fixed on the floor.
"Care to explain what the fuck you were thinking? I can't even believe-"
"Tony-"
"No no no, don't Tony me." He shoved Steve's hand away. "You're supposed to be responsible, you're going to college next year, is that how it's gonna be? You're aspirering to be the drunkard who drops out in his first semester?"
"I went to ONE party-"
"Whithout telling us! Your father trusted you-"
"It's not even a school night! It's not a big deal-"
"Not a big deal ?! You've gotta be kid-"
"Hey! You two, calm down."
Tony's and Peter's heads turned around to face Steve, both hands raised, palm out. He glared at Tony before turning to Peter.
"Go to bed, we'll talk tomorrow." Tony opened his mouth to protest but Steve cut him."Everybody's tired, and no one's thinking straight." He pointedly looked at Tony. "Go to bed. You can take my room."
Peter disappeared in Steve's bedroom and slammed the door shut.
"Seriously?"
"What, you wanted to keep the shouting match going ?"
"He lied to you! He-" Steve looked at him with the flattest face he'd ever seen."What? "
"You're aspirering to be the drunkard who drops out in his first semester?" he quoted."Projecting a bit? I know it's a sensible subject but Peter is not you. He has a support system, friends, we're not gonna drop him in the wild and watch as things go to shit."
Tony knew that. He knew that his fears were not entirely founded. When they had adopted, it had taken a lot of work to not freak out and sabotage the whole thing out of fear of fucking the kid up. It was so easy to do, so quick to happen. Not being there enough, being there too much, a hand off comment that he would take to heart and build his entire behavior on. There was so many ways to traumatize a child, even without realizing it.
"And he called. The minute things turned bad, he called you. You should be happy that your son trusts you the way he does."
Tony rubbed a hand up and down his face. Right, maybe he had overreacted a bit.
Steve offered him a clean t-shirt and sweatpants and got a towel out for him. He took the beer- soaked shirt off once he was in the bathroom, and remembered for a brief second what it tasted like. That was the kind of dangerous trail of thoughts that he learned to put in the background, or straight up forget.
Steve's shampoo had been the same for years, and a pang of sadness rushed through Tony as the smell of it englobed him. It was pathetic, really, how his heart still did weird things when he saw Steve. How Steve still felt like home, even in a house where Tony had never lived.
The sweatpants were unexpectedly too big for him and hung on low on his hips. He was drowning in Steve's clothes and allowed himself to burry his face in it for a second. He was so tired.
It might have been more than a second, because when he came out of the bathroom, the Leeds were pushing a swaying Ned through the door, saying goodbye to Steve and profusely apologizing for the inconvenience. Steve closed the door behind them and let a shaky breath out. He turned to Tony, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
"I wouldn't like to be Ned right now."
"They're mad?"
"Yep. Very. Apparently he told them he was studying here with Pete."
Tony winced. He hoped Ned wouldn't blame Peter for any of the night's events. He squeezed his folded clothes a bit tighter.
"Well, I'll be out of your hair too, then."
"You sure you're in shape to drive ?"
Tony would have sworn he was good at hiding how tired he really was. Steve must have read his mind because he chuckled.
"I've known you for twenty years, I can tell when you've been up for 3 days."
Tony pushed his damp hair back, for the sake of having something to do with his free hand. He felt both like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and like he was 20 years younger, shortening his nights to make time for Steve and working until the wee hours of the morning to make sure he'd be free for date night. It had calmed down when they got married. He learned to delegate, put Pepper in charge and made his family a priority. The bad sleeping habits had came back full force after their divorce.
"Peter went back in his room, you can take my bed. And," he added before Tony could protest," we can both talk to Peter tomorrow."
Steve pushed Tony towards his bedroom door, and took a blanket from the closet before disappearing in the living room.
The room was clean and ordered. Nothing was out of place. Even the frames on the dresser were perfectly angled. 5 years old Peter looked at him with a giant smile and a big teddy bear tucked in his arms. Tony was surprised to find their wedding photo on the wall. The one in front of a giant wedding cake, Steve holding a plate with a piece and a spoon full of whiped cream colliding with Tony's nose. Tony held his breath as he got closer. Steve hadn't change much in two decades. A little wrikle here and there around his eyes, his frekles had darkened slightly where the sun hit the most and, if you looked closely, a few lighter streak of hair on his temples. Tony rarely felt his age as much as he did now, watching his younger self's mock indignation at the wiped cream.
He walked away from the frame, remembering that he was here to sleep. He lied down under the covers, Steve's smell engulfing him. It felt like a dream. The unfamiliar darkness around him clashed with the comfort of being burried under Steve's things, in Steve's room, In Steve's home, like coming back to your childhood bedroom now turned into an office.
He moved and rolled around in the bed until he gave up on trying to sleep half an hour later. He got up and opened slowly the door.
Steve was sound asleep on the sofa, all the cushions on the ground. He walked to the fridge and hoped to find something. He wasn't sure what he wanted, he wasn't even hungry. When he didn't find anything appealing in the fridge, he poured himself a glass of water. Before he realized what he was doing, he was sitting down on the ground next to the sofa, legs drown to his chest. He listened to Steve's slow and even breathing. The whole house was dead silent, to the exeption of the low buzzing of the fridge. It was strange, eery even.
Tony was starting to doze off when he heard Steve's breathing changing, and shuffling under the cover.
"That's a bit creepy, you know?"
His voice was barely a whisper but Tony could hear the teasing anyway.
"Can't sleep," he whispered back.
Steve raised his arm in an invitation, and Tony just stared, not quite sure what was happening. Steve hadn't even open his eyes, but he waited.
"C'mon, it's cold."
Tony climbed under the cover with him, and Steve secured his arm around Tony's waist. Steve's breathing was warm on Tony's hair.
"You wanna talk?"
"It's just…" He took a deep breath, trying to order his thoughts. "When he called I got so scared something had happen, and then the kid with the beer-"
Steve tightened his grip and planted a kiss on the crown of his head. Tony didn't know why his throat closed off like that, a wave of nostalgia taking over him. He raised his head towards Steve and their lips met. He froze then. What was he thinking?
"Sorry i-"
But Steve was kissing him back, hands running along his back. Tony trailed kisses along his cheek and jaw, until his nose was burried in the crook of Steve's neck.
"You know," Steve said, somewhat short of breath, "There's a big bed ten feet away from us."
"You feel like moving?"
"Not really."
Steve raised the cover to Tony's cheekbones and locked his leg around Tony's, probably afraid that he would fall in his sleep.
"We should get some rest."
"Mmh."
…
He couldn't remember the last time he slept so well. He woke up to someone gently stroking the back of his head, and it took him ridiculously long to realize that it wasn't normal. He peeled his eyes open and foud Steve's shirt pressed against his cheek, or the other way around.
"Hello."
He propped himself on his elbows, his back gently telling him that the sofa hadn't been the brightest idea he'd ever had.
"If you want coffee, you'll have to let me go."
Tony wasn't too sure of what was happening but Steve had mentioned coffee. He pushed himself up until he was on his knees and Steve slipped out of the covers. The curtains were open and the room was already filled with sunlight.
"What time is it?"
"9:30."
"Shit"
He ran his hands up and down his face in an attempt to wake up. He leaned on the backrest and watched Steve starting the coffee machine and getting busy in the kitchen. It's only then that he spotted Peter perched on one of the stools, his bowl of ceraels clenched in his hands. He was anxiously bouncing his leg up and down, eying Tony and Steve at regular interval.
Tony pushed himself on his feet, made sure the way too big sweatpants hadn't rolled down and started to the kitchen. He welcomed the cup of coffee that Steve pushed in his hands. Peter was now glaring at his cereals, purposefully ignoring his parents. Steve nodded towards the teenagers like to encourage Tony to talk first. Tony downed half of his cup before starting.
"Peter, I think we should talk."
The teen was resolute on winning his starring match against the cereals and didn't acknowledge Tony. Tony took a deep breath to prepare himself to say what he had to say.
"When I was 15, at MIT, the first party I ever went to, no one took me seriously, right? I was a kid, I definetly shouldn't have been there, but I wanted to prove myself to them because I was arrogant and stupid. I have almost no memory of that night." Peter turned his head then, eyebrows up in confusion. "Woke up the next day in a hospital bed. They tell me I drank too much and almost died. They call Howard, who deals with it like everything else, ergo, not dealing with it, and send me back to MIT with a big cheque to the Dean to forget the whole thing."
"Dad, I don't-"
"Just, let me finish. So, I'm back at the dorms, another party rolls around, and now I know how to not end up in the hospital. Every weekend, there's something. Someone's birthday, a day off, celebrating the end of the semester… And then winter break during my last year, they tell me…" he swallowed against the lump in his throat, and met Steve's encouraging eyes. "They tell me my parents had an accident, and they need me to identify the corpses. I show up, drunk off my ass, I couldn't even tell you what happened or the face of the cop. I drink for a week straight, until the funerals. I show up late, a bottle of whiskey in hand, everyone tell me what a good man my father was, how sorry they are. Obie tells me that I can drink today, apparently, it's socially allowed. Rhodey drives me to the hospital at 4 in the afternoon."
"You just lost your parents-"
"Yeah, you always have an excuse. You just graduated? You're gonna throw a party. Long day? you drink because you deserve it. You're bored ? You drink to make something happen. You drank too much the night before? You drink to make the headache pass. Before you know it you're throwing back a glass of whiskey at 9 am because you need it to concentrate, to stop the shaking. You need it to stop the headaches, to sleep, to function. You're stuck on a project? You drink to have some creativity."
He twisted his hands together, guilt and shame burning in his stomach.
"But I never saw you drink anything."
"Been sober for 16 years. Almost 17."
6224 days to be precise, not that he was counting or anything. He should be proud, and he was, on better days. But saying it to Peter had an awful bitterness to it.
Steve had turned around the table and put a grounding hand on Tony's shoulder. He squeezed until Tony acknowledged him with a nod.
"My point is, I'm never going to be okay with you drinking. I know it's not entirely rationnal, I know that drinking a beer once in a while will not cause problem but I can't help it. And when you called last night I thought- I thought you were walking in my shitty footsteps and I freaked out, but I'm glad you called, and that you trusted me enough to call. And I'm sorry I reacted that way, it wasn't... I shouldn't have."
Peter nodded.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "But don't worry about that, alcohol tastes so gross."
"Good."
"You're still grounded though. You should have told us where you were going."
"But- we just had a nice heart to heart-"
"No. Hun-hun. Grouded. You're not gonna see the sun for two weeks."
"But-"
"Continue and I'll make it three," Steve chimed in behind Tony.
"And from now on, you tell us where you are. I'm not gonna forbid you to go anywhere, I'm not delisunal enough to think I could if I wanted," that made Peter's lips tugged upwards and Tony counted it as a win."But I want to know. And if you don't respect that i have the means to track you down so don't try me."
"Tony."
"I'm just saying."
Peter mumbled an apology in his cereals an excused himself after he finished, saying he'd check if Ned was still alive.
There was an awkward silent after he left, Steve sipped his tea and ate his toast like he'd done the last 45 years, his cheeks getting slightly redder as the silence stretched on. Tony knew he should leave and forget about last night's... Thing that happened. It was the best for his dumb heart.
"That went well."
Steve munched on his toast, with all the normalcy in the world, as if the hours of arguments and screaming hadn't happened between them. As if there wasn't divorce papers burried in one of the drawers of Tony's desk.
"Feel like I did most of the talking."
Steve nodded and smiled.
"Yeah, it's more your area of expertise, dumb teenage things."
"Yeah you were an angel."
"I was."
Tony snorted on his coffee despite his best efforts to keep his poker face on.
"I know a certain Mr. Fury that would disagree."
Steve shrugged and laughed, and for a moment Tony felt like the last three years didn't happen. Tony got up and brought Peter's bowl and his cup in the sink. He started rincing them and doing the few dishes that layed there from, he guessed knowing Steve, the night before. Steve came up behind him, put his cup and his plate in the sink. Tony could feel his breath on his neck, a shiver ran through his back.
"Should we talk about last night ?" he breathed in his neck.
"Is there anything to talk about?"
Steve's hand ran along of Tony's arm, until it found his hand under water. He ran a finger softly on Tony's ring.
"You still wear it."
"I can't remove it," he lied. He didn't know if he could take it off, he never tried. "It doesn't have to mean anything."
"Do you want it to mean something ?"
"Do you?"
Steve's nose brushed against his hair, and Tony held his breath. He wasn't sure what he wanted to hear. He wasn't sure if he would even hear it, behind the pulse of his heart in his temples.
"Yeah."
Tony exhaled a shaky breath, clutching on the sponge and the cup to ground himself.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
His free hand circled Tony's waist, and found its way under Tony's shirt. Steve trailed kisses on his neck, excruciatingly slow. Tony wanted to turn around but he couldn't, his hands deep on the soapy water, and he knew Steve was taking advantage of this. He peeled himself off of Tony a second to find a tea towel and dried his hand up before circling Tony's waist once again. He started off where he'd left, his mouth finding its way along Tony's neck and shoulder.
"You don't think it's a bad idea?"
Steve stopped on his track. "No."
It was very Steve to be sure of something with the kind of certainty that convinced other people, that could even comvince Tony if he let it.
"You're staying for lunch ?"
"I got work to do."
"It's sunday."
Tony put the cups aside to dry and rinced his hands. Steve was already handing him a towel when he turned around. He dried his hands slowly, under Steve's watchful eye. He had his disappointed face on.
Tony raised a clean thumb to his eyebrows and eased Steve's frown. Surprisingly, he let him.
"Are you pouting?"
"No," he lied.
Tony sighted. Steve had no right to be so adorable at his age.
"Let me call Pepper and tell her she won't have her prototypes tomorrow."
Steve beamed and Tony's weak, weak heart jumped and squeezed like a teenager's. He yelped when Steve slid his arms under him and lifted him in the air like if he weighted nothing. Steve turned around, took a few steps and deposited Tony on the counter.
Tony locked his legs behind Steve and brought him closer. He put his arms aroud his neck and played with the short hair at the back. God he'd missed this. He sighted happily as Steve kissed him, deep and slow.
Maybe it could be something. Tony wasn't sure what, but something good, he was certain.