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Having been a member of the Stark political dynasty for his entire fourteen years of life, Tony was used to the stares, the whispers and the "covert" photos. He was used to attention, in general, and he had kept his head held high all through his morning classes. But he knew that if he set foot in the cafeteria today, his carefully-maintained composure would crumble. He needed a break from the constant loud speculation about who would win the stupid contest, not to mention the catcalls asking what students could do to improve their chances of winning.
Tony had started high school young and had already been kicked out of three private schools last year and one earlier this year (Tony’s lighthearted drone prank having been wildly misconstrued by the administration, who completely failed to appreciate the technical skill Tony had demonstrated). His father had sworn that military school would be next, a fate that Tony desperately hoped to avoid. (His childhood friend Rhodey swore it wasn't actually that bad, but Tony wasn’t sure he believed him.) His mom and Jarvis had teamed up to convince Howard that sending Tony to public school was a savvy move, one that would appeal to the voters and make the Starks seem more accessible. Relatable.
But Tony knew he was on thin ice, which was why he was grudgingly going along with the stupid plan his dad's campaign manager had come up with. "Win a Date with Tony Stark"? Somehow the contest (and resultant date, destined to be filmed and edited down to 30-60 seconds of wholesome content for Howard's social media) was going to clean up Tony's reputation--while also garnering publicity for Howard's re-election campaign? And everyone knew that Howard had his eyes on the White House next. Tony wasn't sure he’d survive a presidential campaign, let alone a win.
By the end of this year Tony would be fifteen and hopefully could cobble together his impressive variety pack of high school credits and off-the-charts test scores with an essay to explain his frequent disciplinary issues and wheedle some kind of early college admission out of somewhere far away.
For today, though, Tony made his way up to a small third-story bathroom where he hoped to spend his lunch period in peace. It was across from the art room; a rarely used corridor, since funding for the art program had been all but eliminated. Tony had discovered it by mistake shortly after transferring here, when he’d gotten lost on his way to American lit. He’d mentally filed it away, since it was always good to know a hiding place or two. He pushed open the bathroom door and immediately washed his hands. He wasn’t a germaphobe exactly, but he had to shake a lot of hands and he didn’t have a lot of faith in his fellow men, so he’d developed a frequent hand washing habit. There were worse habits (some of which Tony had also developed.)
Tony took a rough paper towel and used it to turn off the sink before drying his hands with it. The sink still dripped, so he sighed and tried to turn the tap harder with his bare hands, to no avail. Then he looked down at the monogrammed lunch bag containing the exquisite meal Jarvis had packed for him and realized he couldn't possibly despoil it by following through on his impulsive plan of eating in this disgusting bathroom. He wasn’t that hungry, anyway; anxiety ruined his appetite. But since he was up here, he walked past the urinals to open the nearest stall for a moment of quiet.
But as his ears adjusted to the quiet, he realized he wasn't alone. In addition to the persistent drip of the sink, he heard quiet, quick breathing coming from one of the other stalls. Had someone followed him? And somehow...pre-emptively gotten in the bathroom before Tony had? It didn't quite make sense, over the years, people had done a lot of fucked-up things to sneak pictures of Tony.
"Hello?" Tony called. "Is someone in here?"
No answer came. Tony peeked down and didn't see any feet in either of the other stalls. He left his stall and saw that the middle stall was clearly empty, with the door open. The furthest stall had the door shut.
Tony knocked on the closed door. "Seriously, I don’t need this right now. Who’s in there?" When no reply came, Tony pushed hard on the door. It swung open, surprising him as well as the stall’s occupant, a thin boy with curly brown hair sitting in a precariously cross-legged fashion on the toilet with a calculus book and half-eaten sandwich on his lap, no camera or phone in sight.
The boy was covering his face with his hands, which was probably a reasonable reaction to the invasion of his bathroom stall. "Sorry," he whispered, which wasn't.
"Hey," Tony said. "No, why are you apologizing? I’m sorry, I...sorry. That was a jerk move, I just thought...you were someone else."
"It's okay," he mumbled, his hands still over his face.
Tony felt he owed this kid some semblance of an explanation. "It's just that, um, I didn’t think anyone else would be up here, so I thought you might be trying to...take a picture of me. For...I...sorry."
The boy peeked up at Tony between his fingers before hesitantly removing his hands from his face, revealing a fading yellowish bruise under one of his big hazel eyes and a pair of nerdy plastic glasses that were taped together at the nose. His rapid breathing had slowed somewhat, and he gave Tony a glance that was hard to parse. Somehow fearful, but sympathetic? Shy, but amused? Softly, the boy said, "Sorry people have been doing that to you."
Tony shrugged. "Kinda comes with the Stark family territory. It's been happening since I was a baby."
"Does that make it any better?"
"Not really," Tony admitted. "I, um, I'm Tony."
Matter-of-factly, Bruce replied, "I know. You're very famous. And you're in my half of my classes."
"Shit. Sorry. I, uh, still haven’t learned everyone’s names since I transferred here." Tony took a deeper look at the other boy. Tony could still swear he’d never seen him before in his life, but if he was in the same classes as Tony he must be very smart. And he looked young for high school, like Tony was. In short, he seemed to be a person worth knowing.
"It's okay. I always sit in the front row. And I, uh, don’t talk much in class. I'm Bruce. Banner."
"Oh yeah, those alphabetical seating charts are gonna get you every time, huh?" Tony asked. Alphabetical order usually put Stark in the back, which was what he preferred.
Bruce gave Tony a tiny smile. "Yeah. I guess. Uh, well, you were right about people not coming in here often, if you want to..." he trailed off and waved a hand at the stall wall, offering Tony one of the other empty stalls.
But Tony stayed in the door of Bruce's stall. "So do you, uh, eat lunch here often?"
Bruce nodded.
"Why?" Tony blurted out. Then he took another second to process Bruce--his bruised face, his broken glasses, his hopelessly dorky clothing, his unkempt curly hair--and immediately regretted asking. It definitely wasn’t the first time his mouth had gotten ahead of his brain. Howard was right about one thing: Tony needed to learn how to keep his mouth shut.
Bruce shrugged one shoulder and said drily, "Because you can't bring food in the library."
Tony laughed. "Hey, so, does that sink always drip like that?"
"What? Oh. Yeah, I guess. I must have just gotten used to it."
"Huh. Really, you don’t hear it? It echoes…" Tony tried to block out the dripping but it was really distracting.
Bruce tilted his head. "Huh. Yeah. God, that must be wasting tons of gallons of water. The school should fix it...maybe they could put the money they save on their water bill into restarting the Mathletes team."
"Ha, right." Abruptly, something clicked for Tony. "Wait. Are you R. Banner?"
Bruce grimaced. "I go by Bruce. It's my middle name."
"Okay, sure, but you're the kid who keeps breaking the curve in comp sci?"
Bruce dropped his gaze to the floor and hunched his shoulders inward, but he nodded.
"Oh my god, you're a genius! Sorry, I didn't...I...obviously I never realized what you look like." They spent a lot of class periods in the computer lab working independently on their coding (or in Tony's case, his extracurricular projects), so Tony barely knew any of the other students in that class. But the teacher was old-school enough to post a curve with the top student’s name on it after each exam, and in spite of Tony’s best efforts, that name was always "Banner, R."
Bruce looked up and gestured at his face. "Here you go. Take it all in," he deadpanned. Tony pursed his lips thoughtfully. Bruce looked back down at his sandwich. "Um. If I swear that I’m not a paparazzo, can I, uh, finish my lunch now?"
"What? Oh, yeah, sorry, of course. Hey, uh, do you have a date for prom?"
Bruce snorted. "Oh, yeah, I’ll be escorting the Duchess of Cambridge."
"Oh, she’s not that much fun in real life," Tony said automatically.
"In that case...no, of course I don’t have a date for prom," Bruce said with an eye roll. He took a bite of his peanut butter sandwich.
"Okay, how about going with me?"
Bruce’s face fell. "Look, I had first dibs on this bathroom, and I kinda come here to get a break from being made fun of, so…"
"Oh, no, no, sorry! No, I...uh, look, have you heard about the Win a Date With Tony Stark contest?"
Bruce gave an ambivalent nod-shrug. Of course he'd heard of it. Everyone had.
"Well, it’s really stupid and I hate it and my dad’s making me do it."
"That sucks," Bruce said cautiously.
"And like, I wouldn’t want to date anyone who would want to enter it, you know?"
"Yeah, it must be really terrible to have so many people wanting to date you."
"No, look, it...sorry but it really is," Tony said. "They don’t really want to date me, just like, the image of me. The image my dad wants me to have, anyway. This dumb socialite whatever guy. They want to ride in a limo and take a picture with my dad and...ugh, anyway, look, the contest is online, it's supposed to use a stupid social media algorithm...and I bet you could help me hack it. Then I could pick the winner myself."
Bruce regarded him for a long moment. He lifted his chin and said, "If this is a prank, I’d really rather you just hit me and get it over with."
"What? Jesus, Bruce, no, I’m so sorry you--no. It’s not. I promise. I just...I’m sorry we’re, uh, meeting under these circumstances, but I...I mean it." He opened his lunch bag and pulled out a cupcake, packaged in its own perfectly-cupcake-sized plastic container. Blueberry lemon, freshly-baked by Jarvis. It was Tony’s favorite, but he was sure Jarvis would have more at home. "Here, take this as, uh, a goodwill gesture. It’s made with organic butter!" Howard had toured the creamery over the weekend, posing for a photo op with some cows in an attempt to look earthy. He'd stepped in a big piece of cow shit, and it had been the highlight of Tony's week thus far.
Bruce’s eyes were still wary, but he took the cupcake and balanced it on his textbook. "I guess I could take a look at the contest algorithm," he offered.
"Great! Do you want to meet in the library after school?"
Bruce furrowed his eyebrows. "I could just look online and email you or something?"
"Oh. If you’re busy today, when’s good for you? Tomorrow I have a dumb campaign event but I could do Thursday."
Bruce shook his head. "I’m free, it’s just…"
"Just what?" Tony wasn't used to his social invitations being declined.
"Just...are you sure you want to be seen with me?" Bruce asked softly.
"What the fuck?"
Bruce shrugged. "I mean, uh. I know you're pretty new here, but...well, things would just be easier for you...not to associate with me."
Tony narrowed his eyes and said impulsively, "If you’re free after school today, why don’t you meet me by the flagpole out front? If you don't want to go to the library, we can go to my house.” Howard wouldn't be home for hours, if at all.
Bruce bit his lip. Everyone congregated at the flagpole after school to hang out and wait for rides. Growing up in a political dynasty had given Tony a decent understanding of optics; he had suggested the highly public meeting place with a half-baked thought of improving Bruce’s public image by letting people see him get picked up by Jarvis in the town car. But it belatedly occurred to him that if things were really this bad for Bruce at school, he might not want to make himself so visible after the last bell rang.
"Okay, here, give me your phone." Tony held out his hand.
Bruce leaned to the side and pulled a shitty flip phone out of the front pocket of his backpack, careful not to dislodge the cupcake from his lap. He watched Tony anxiously as he handed it over.
"Whoa, old school," Tony observed. He added his number to Bruce’s short list of contacts, painstakingly triple-tapping the numbers to spell out his name, and passed the phone back to him. "Look, I get that you maybe don’t trust me, and that’s fair, given that I busted in your bathroom stall. But I promise, this isn’t a, a trick or whatever. I could just really use your help. If you think you’re up to it, text me. Name the spot and I’ll meet you there after school. Okay?"
"...Okay."
"And you should really try the cupcake. It’s homemade and it’s totally baller."
Bruce smiled. "Okay. If it's baller."
"It is. Good talk, Banner. I’ll see you in class, apparently?"
"Yeah."
"Seriously, text me," Tony said. He washed his hands again at the still-drippy sink and left Bruce to finish his lunch in peace. He returned to his locker, where he put his lunch bag away and quickly crammed a granola bar in his mouth before the bell rang.
While he chewed, his phone lit up with a text from an unknown number: Hey. Who's this?
Tony could appreciate Bruce's caution, given how he'd apparently been treated by their peers. He wrote back, fully aware that his phrasing would look awful if it were screencapped and shared, It's Tony. From the bathroom ;)
The reply came quickly, considering how hard it was to type on Bruce's janky phone. Tony was impressed that Bruce's message was still properly capitalized and punctuated. Ha. Just checking. Thanks for the cupcake. I’ll be in the library after school if you want to meet up.
And a follow-up: PS also I’ll see you in physics next period.
Tony replied, Sounds good, see you then. PS tomorrow at lunch I’m bringing a wrench up from shop class to fix that dripping sink.
An environmentalist hero! No wonder everyone wants to date you.
Tony smiled at his phone. Maybe a semester of public school wouldn’t be so bad after all.