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Steve Rogers hates high school.
This is his fourth one in as many years, and even as a senior he’s still the scrawny kid with a target on his back to the entire male population. Already he’s been tripped, taunted, and tossed into his locker, and it’s not even homeroom yet. What a wonderful start to Week 2 of Heck.
Perhaps the epitome of everything that’s unfair about teenage life is Tony Stark, the boy who sits in front of Steve in homeroom. They don’t share any other classes together—apparently Stark is some sort of super genius who takes more actual college classes than AP ones—but Steve can glean pretty much all he needs to from those 15 minutes a day that he’s subjected to the boy. Steve’s not the sort that hates anyone (he saves that level of disdain for institutions of learning and other inanimate or figurative objects that won’t get hurt feelings), but Stark really tests that resolve.
He’s late to homeroom every day, and he doesn’t even feel bad about it. Indeed, he swaggers into the room with the disheveled and smug look that Steve has seen often enough to know the cause. Still, every day? His poor girlfriend must be run ragged.
Or should he say girlfriends? Because it seems like every day Stark has a differently colored smudge of lipstick on his collar, and by the time he leaves the room he’s met with yet another different girl to hang on his arm and swoon. Steve doesn’t get it.
Yeah, okay, so Stark is apparently smart and rich (very rich, if the stories are to be believed), and Steve has heard at least five females today sighing over how hot he is, but he’s a jerk and a bully! He’s never shoved Steve into his locker (yet), but the grand majority of his friends have, and Stark hasn't stopped a single one. His inaction isn't him giving into peer pressure though, oh no. Steve is relatively sure that 'peer pressure' is the only term that Stark doesn't know the meaning of--well, maybe that and 'modesty'. Every time Steve sees him it’s like he needs to pick a fight with his words rather than his fists. Stark picks on everybody, from the most popular jocks to the least popular nerds to the teachers, for goodness’ sake! It’s just not decent!
And he’s hardly an angel outside the classroom either. Although Steve’s never been (invited) to one of his infamous house (mansion) parties, he’s heard plenty of rumors. Stark appears to have no sense of moral fiber whatsoever. He drinks, he uses girls like tissues, and he belittles everyone that he comes across with a sort of easy egotism that really grates on the nerves. He wonders if Stark even sees the broken hearts and hurt feelings that he leaves behind.
Steve would never wish anyone ill, but sometimes… sometimes… well, he wishes that Stark would get a taste of his own medicine.
He’s thinking something along these lines during a particularly bad homeroom. Stark’s friends are babbling about how awesome and amazing and wonderful Stark is and oh, Tony, have you chosen the lucky lady that you’re taking to prom yet?
And Stark is laughing and saying that he’s not sure prom’s for him, he might actually have other plans (“Oh, how cool, Tony!”), but if he ends up requiring a date, he’s totally open to auditions. And then he winks and Steve’s pencil snaps in half.
And then the door opens.
“Hi. There was a change in my schedule so I had to change homerooms. I hope that’s alright?”
Stark’s head snaps around so fast that he might have just given himself whiplash. He smirks at the new arrival and cups his mouth with his hand to magnify his voice.
“Brucey!”
Steve cringes in sympathy for the scrawny boy that turns to look over at their corner of the room. ‘Brucey’ is the stereotypical geek, with messy, wavy brown hair and big brown eyes behind a pair of smart-looking spectacles. He’s also dressed in an oversized sweater and worn jeans that scream second, maybe third-hand. Shucks, Stark will destroy this kid, eat him for breakfast.
Then ‘Brucey’ grins right back, his face lighting up.
“Tony, you didn’t tell me you were in this homeroom.” He says happily. “What a nice surprise.”
That’s (suicidal) sarcasm, right?
Tony’s still grinning as he gets up and saunters to the front of the room to wrap a friendly arm around the boy. Stark’s followers and Steve gape after him.
“It is, isn’t it?” Tony agrees, still smirking in that nauseating way that Steve knows usually precedes a verbal assault. “Almost like fate has brought us together.”
“Mmm-hmm. Fate looks uncannily like an idiot who hacked the system and changed my room assignment.” The boy says drily, but undeniably fondly. Stark ignores the teacher’s weak “Welcome to Classroom 221B, Mr. Banner” and tows Brucey over to one of the unoccupied seats, away from his minions but still close enough to Steve that he can hear what they’re saying. Not that he’s eavesdropping or anything, because that would be rude.
“Was this really necessary, Tony?” Brucey asks mildly. Stark shrugs, grinning at him.
“I haven’t the foggiest what you’re implying, Bruce. I am as innocent in this as the fresh fallen snow.”
“You do cause a lot of accidents wherever you go…” Bruce agrees thoughtfully, causing Stark to snort and bump his shoulder. “But this will make getting to the campus easier, if you’re still sure you don’t mind driving me. Betty said she can still do it, but—“
“But this will be so much more fun!” Stark cuts in, cheerful with a hint of sharpness, and Bruce just shakes his head and smiles. “Or, you know, we could just skip the boring classes and go chill at my house, make some sweet science. I’ll let you play with my test tube.” The way he says it, eyebrow arched suggestively, makes Steve go red by secondhand embarrassment, but Bruce just laughs and cocks his head to the side.
“Can you make anything into an innuendo?”
“You do make it hard sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?” Bruce grins. “They have a pill for that.”
Ten minutes later, Steve is agog. They’ve been talking nonstop for the entire period, and although Steve is sure that half of what they’re saying isn’t even English, they seem quite absorbed. Although a few of Stark’s crew give Bruce dirty looks for stealing their ringleader, most of them just roll their eyes and return to their own conversation as though this alien experience is old hat.
Stark says something involving ‘leptons’, (they’ve lapsed back into non-English) and Bruce giggles. Honest to gosh giggles. If Steve giggled he thinks he’d be shoved into things a lot worse than lockers. No one even blinks when Bruce does it.
Stark, however, looks like he’s just won the lottery (as if Stark needs any more money than he already has). Then Bruce says something back about ‘neutrinos’ and Stark cracks up so hard that tears come to his eyes.
There is something terribly wrong here. Stark is actually being… well, not ‘nice’ exactly, because some of the things he says to Bruce are still cocky as heck, but sort of… friendly. He’s the only one that’s been reduced to tears in this conversation, and that’s through laughter. Bruce Banner must be a miracle worker.
Stark mentions grabbing some of his design sketches from his bag and heads back over to his abandoned seat. While he’s away, Bruce glances over at Steve. Steve hunches as much as he can into himself, because if Stark and Bruce get along so well, Stark is a bona fide jerk, reason follows…
“That’s amazing, you know. You’re very talented.” He’s looking at Steve’s drawing. And saying nice things.
Reason does not apply here, clearly.
“R-Really?” He asks, because other than his teachers and his friend from High School #1, Bucky, no one’s said much of anything nice about his drawings. Bruce smiles at him, and wow, he does have a nice smile. Real friendly and genuinely nice, which is rare. Steve feels his face heating up a little.
“Really. I can’t draw more than stick figures, I’m afraid. Tony’s amazing though. You two should—“
Steve feels horrible about his rudeness, but he can’t hold back a snort. Oh, gosh, and Bruce is Stark’s friend, and now he’s going to be ticked.
“I suppose not, huh?” Bruce admits, smiling ruefully. “He is a bit of an acquired taste, I’m afraid.”
“You can acquire a taste anytime you want, Bruce.” Comes the sultry tone of a newly returned Stark. He stands behind Bruce, hands on his shoulders, and leans in to look at Steve over Bruce’s head. Bruce can’t see the narrowed eyes and sharp smile of Tony Stark, but Steve sure can. It reminds him of the expression Peggy’s boyfriend gets when he sees Steve talking to his lady. Peggy’s a real classy girl, and she’s not the sort that would stray, but Steve still gets pinned with that look that is filled to bursting with...
Oh. He risks another look at Stark’s face. Yup. Jealous.
Steve had always thought that Stark was one of those guys who’d pound a fellow for having some inclinations of the homosexual kind, but apparently he’s more progressive than a great number of his peers. He’d never even imagined that someone like Bruce would be the sort that Stark would go for, even if he was a little bi-curious. Bruce is so scrawny and sweet and soft-spoken, nothing like Stark at all.
Steve feels abruptly awful for Bruce. He knows that Stark can blindside people, manipulate them any which way he wants. He wonders if that's what is going on here--if Stark felt like having a pet, and poor Bruce got stuck on his leash. He wonders if Bruce knows about the rainbow of lipstick that adorns Stark's collar, and he wonders if Steve should tell him if he doesn't.
He looks at them again. They’ve returned to their own conversation, and they’re leaning together, heads bowed over Stark’s drawings. Bruce mutters something and makes a note using his nubby pencil. Stark completely ignores his own expensive-looking pen laying on the desk and snatches Bruce’s pencil instead, scribbling something else that makes Bruce snort and flick his forehead in reprimand. Tony catches the hand as it drops and lets their joined hands fall easily between them on the desktop. Bruce doesn’t say a word.
They’re both smiling at nothing at all.
Steve swallows and looks away, feeling as though he is somehow violating their private moment by spying. He thinks, abruptly, that there might not be any manipulation here, on either side. The only people he's seen look at each other like that are his parents.
The bell rings. Steve gathers his things and heads for the door on autopilot, knowing he’ll have to hurry to get across the school to the art studio in time. Stark and Bruce haven’t moved yet, he notices.
“Betty wants to talk about our d-date tonight, but I can meet you outside in five.”
Steve can’t help but look back at that, private moment and time crunch or not. Bruce has a date… with ‘Betty’?
Stark is still grinning, but his eyes aren’t quite focusing right anymore, looking at Bruce’s ear instead of his eyes. Bruce doesn’t notice as he ducks to grab his bag.
“Go sweep her off her feet, lover-boy. And wish her a happy anniversary from me, yeah?” The only thing more stilted than Stark’s words is his smile.
“I will.” Bruce beams at him and turns to the door, waving at Steve on the way out. Steve waves back, but only barely—Bruce must be in a hurry to see ‘Betty’, because he’s gone in a second.
Steve looks back, just once more.
Stark still hasn’t moved. He’s looking at the little nubby pencil in his hand, held tight enough to snap.
Steve turns away.
Sometimes Steve wonders if Stark even sees the broken hearts and hurt feelings that he leaves behind. Sometimes he even wishes that Stark would get a taste of his own medicine.
And then he meets Bruce Banner, and he wishes he’d never made that wish.