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Stephen shifted a little to make space as Tony threw himself onto the other end of the couch—it had been an arm chair thirty seconds ago, but the Sanctum was always good about making space for Tony. The sound of shoes dropping onto the floor indicated Tony getting comfortable. Stephen rolled his eyes, not looking up from his book when Tony’s socked feet burrowed their way beneath Stephen’s thigh in their normal fashion. Tony had been doing that since almost the beginning, when he’d decided that Stephen ‘wasn’t too bad’ and could ‘maybe stick around’. The casual words underscored, Stephen hadn’t realized until later, by Tony’s decision to let his guard down around Stephen.
Stephen had never had anyone sound so reluctant to be his friend—partially because he didn’t have many in the first place—but it hadn’t taken Stephen long to realize that Tony simply… didn’t know how to handle people wanting to be his friend without some sort of secret agenda.
To be fair, Stephen wasn’t used to people wanting to be his friend at all, so they made for a rather confused, uncertain pair that way, trying to figure out what being each other’s friend even meant. Stephen thought they did pretty well, for neither of them knowing what they were doing.
“Where’s the cloak?” Tony asked.
Stephen hummed, flipping a page. “There’s a rugby game on tonight. South Africa versus Ireland. I set the tv up in the upstairs lounge and gave the cloak the remote. If I’m lucky the cloak won’t break the tv by throwing the remote through the screen.” It’d been a close call a few days ago when South Africa had almost lost to France.
Tony laughed. “I will never get over the fact that the cloak is a rugby fan.”
“Better than football,” Stephen said. He didn’t understand the point of most sports, but football especially had always seemed ridiculous for him. “Though the number of concussions between the two sports is frankly terrifying.”
“Well,” Tony said, tone philosophical. “You would think that, being a doctor and all.”
“I was a neurosurgeon,” Stephen emphasized, glancing up from his book for a split second to give Tony an amused look. “If anyone knows the dangers of concussions, it’d be me.”
“Fair enough.”
Tony leaned back, curling into the couch and humming to himself, gaze distant, almost thoughtful. Stephen glanced back at him, but Tony didn’t seem to need anything, so he turned back to his book. Stephen glanced at his watch. They normally got dinner around 7:00, before ‘hanging’ the rest of the night, it was only 6:30, now. That gave Stephen another 30 minutes with his book unless one of them specifically asked for attention.
The silence between them lasted almost five minutes before Tony sighed, a long pointed sigh that registered in the back of Stephen’s mind as a ‘please, pay attention to me so I can complain’.
Stephen did his best not to laugh, but he did obediently shut the book and put it down on the couch arm next to him as he looked over at Tony. “Well,” he said. “You can commence with your complaints.”
Tony’s expression immediately lightened, amusement glinting in his eyes, though frustration from whatever had him upset lingered beneath the warmth. “Who said I’m about to complain?”
Stephen just arched an eyebrow.
“Okay, fine. I’m about to complain.” Tony immediately launched into his complaints and Stephen had to parse through the tangents and hyperbole to figure out what Tony was actually upset about. Tony’d had another date tonight, someone that Pepper had picked out for him a few months ago—awkward, Stephen thought, for Tony’s ex to be setting Tony up with someone—and how it’d been a disaster because Abbie had been upset with Tony for reminding her for the sixth time that he was booked on Friday night and they’d have to plan around that.
Stephen had met Abbie once and hadn’t been particularly impressed with her, but he hadn’t said as much. It might sound awful, but he hadn’t foreseen it lasting long enough for him to need to get to know her. Stephen suspected this was a sign he was right.
“I mean,” Tony scoffed. “I’m willing to give her pretty much any other night. But Friday nights are our nights.”
Stephen shrugged. “Socially, Friday nights are normally considered date nights,” he offered. “It probably makes her feel like you’re prioritizing me over her.”
Tony wrinkled his nose. “Well, I am, aren’t I?” He shrugged. “But I’ve known her for two months. I’ve known you for ages.” Tony sighed. “Why should she get priority just because she’s the one I have sex with? And it’s not like she’s being subtle about her real interest. Only so much she can eye my pocketbook without me catching a clue.”
Which made Stephen wonder why Pepper had introduced them. Unless Pepper had just hoped that Tony needed a few nights of good sex to perk him up. And Abbie had lasted two months, so maybe there was something else under the surface.
…Stephen doubted it.
“Well, things take time,” Stephen said, instead of commenting on that. “Eventually, you’ll meet someone and want them to stick around.”
Tony made a face. “Yeah. Because that’s likely.” He sighed. “You know, things would just be easier if I could find another you.”
Stephen blinked, trying to make sense of the words. “What?”
Tony shrugged, waving a hand at Stephen. “I mean…” he trailed off. “I just…” He sighed. “Obviously not you, you.”
“Obviously,” Stephen agreed automatically. “But beyond ‘the obvious’—” which Stephen wasn’t sure was very obvious, ”—I have no clue what you mean.”
Tony grimaced. “I mean…” He sighed. “Look, no one has ever gotten me the way you do. Rhodey’s been around forever, and Pepper was at my side for years, and Happy’s literally been there since I was like… 20.”
“Right,” Stephen agreed.
“And, compared to that, you’ve only been around for what… ten years?”
“Thirteen,” Stephen said, amused. Time was not Tony’s thing. At all. Whether it was anniversaries, days of the week, or what time it was. Tony was at an absolute loss pretty much all the time.
Tony had been so proud the year he’d ‘remembered Stephen’s birthday’ that Stephen hadn’t had the heart to tell him that Stephen’s birthday was in November, not August. Stephen still wasn’t sure if Tony thought Stephen’s birthday was in August or if Tony had mistakenly thought it was already November.
Either was possible when it came to Tony.
JARVIS probably could have told Tony, but JARVIS had probably thought it was better for Tony to celebrate early than to forget to celebrate at all.
“Right,” Tony said, unaware of Stephen’s thoughts. “Thirteen years. Which, you know, is a pretty significant amount of time, but not as long as Rhodey or Pep or Happy. But you still get me better than anyone else, which, you know is saying something. You know, you’re the only person who is not compensated in some way to stick around?”
Tony grimaced. Stephen knew that particular fact was something Tony tried not to think too much about, that a part of Tony feared that that ‘compensation’ was the only reason the others did stick around. Stephen had never quite figured out how to ease that fear. All he’d ever been able to do was assure Tony that he wasn’t there for that.
“I can’t improve your career,” Tony continued. “You’re not on my payroll. I’ve introduced you to maybe two people in your field, and you’d have gotten those intros just fine by yourself, because you’re… you and undoubtedly brilliant.” Stephen hid a smile at the compliment as Tony kept going. “I just met them first. Well, except for Bruce. That one might have been all on me. But whatever, doesn’t count. And now that you’re magic, there’s even less that I can do for you.”
Stephen examined Tony, trying to track the trajectory of Tony’s thoughts. “You realize I don’t need anything from you, right?” He didn’t think that was the problem, right now. It didn’t hurt to double check. “That that’s not why I stick around.”
“Exactly!” Tony pointed a finger at him, emphasizing the word. His eyes glinted with excitement, as though those words were the proof he needed. “You’re just here. You stuck around after Afghanistan. You practically ripped the buttons off my shirt when I tried to hide the palladium issue and called me ‘the biggest idiot you knew’ but then became such an expert on toxicology that, honestly, you could have switched specialties.”
Stephen smirked. Yes, he was that good.
Tony rolled his eyes, obviously reading his thoughts, but he didn’t comment on it. It was true, after all, and they both knew it.
Of course, what neither of them mentioned was that, for Stephen, there had been no other choice. Not when it had all been for Tony.
Tony continued, “You put up with me and my PTSD after New York. You were the only one who showed up after JARVIS and encouraged me to give him a proper ceremony instead of ‘moving on’ since I had FRIDAY to take his place. You…” he trailed off. “Yeah,” he said finally. “You’ve always been there. I spend every Friday night with you. You’re on my speed dial. You’re—”
“You don’t have speed dial,” Stephen interrupted. His heart raced in his chest, because this was a dangerous conversation. ”You’ve never figured out the settings on your phone, because you have FRIDAY do that all.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re…” Tony sighed. “If you weren’t you and I wasn’t me, people would think we’re…” He waved his hand. “You know. And I kind of get it, right? Because you’re one of the most important people in my life.”
“You’re the same for me,” Stephen said. “You’re the only person who didn’t let me drive you away after my accident,” he said. “Everyone else gave up on me because I was such an asshole. You didn’t, though. In fact, you showed up in Nepal to track me down within three days of my up and leaving because you thought I was going to do something reckless and idiotic.”
He still remembered Tony’s passioned and frantic diatribe—eyes wide with suppressed horror and hands gesturing wildly with anxious energy—about how Stephen couldn’t ‘fall into a deep depression, sell all his belongings, and leave the country’ because Tony had thought Stephen would ‘do something entirely idiotic like jump off a bridge’ and Tony would ‘never even know’ because Stephen was ‘in fucking Nepal of all places.’ That had been the sum of that particular diatribe, but that hadn’t stopped it from lasting a good thirty minutes before Tony had calmed down.
It had actually made Stephen feel a little guilty. He should have said something to Tony, who had stuck it out through Stephen’s period of angry lashing out. Stephen’d just… been in a bad place. Had been desperate. Hadn’t wanted anyone to talk him out of reaching for this impossible fix.
Tony hadn’t. He’d found Stephen. Ranted for thirty minutes and then just… pulled Stephen in a desperate embrace before accepting that Stephen was choosing the impossible.
“You didn’t even tell me I was crazy for deciding to learn the Mystic Arts,” Stephen continued. “You just told me that if you didn’t hear from me on a regular basis, you were going to show up to make sure I hadn’t ‘succumbed to any cult-like behavior’.”
Tony made a face. “You have to admit, it looked a little sketchy.”
Stephen shrugged. So yes, at first glance Kamar Taj had given off a couple of red flags with some cult-like similarities. Stephen still didn’t know why Tony had gotten away with saying that to the Ancient One without getting knocked out of his body. No, Stephen had gotten knocked out of his body and kicked out and Tony had gotten an amused smirk and an invitation to check on Stephen when he wished.
Then again, Stephen had stayed and Tony had left, so maybe the Ancient One had just known her audience.
Not that Tony would have wanted to stay beyond checking on Stephen. Which he had done. Regularly. Even though Stephen had kept in very regular contact.
Tony wasn’t exactly the sort to be held back. Plus, he’d been just the tiniest bit curious, even if he’d denied it.
It was probably a miracle Mordo hadn’t murdered Tony and been done with it, because Tony wasn’t the sort to just wander in, check on him, and wander back out. No, Tony tended to make a nuisance of himself. Stephen had been friends with Tony long enough to be used to it—fond of it, even—but it had driven Mordo to distraction.
The Ancient One had just stayed mildly amused, clearly unbothered by Tony’s constant antics, which had kept Mordo in check.
“We’ve gotten off track,” Stephen said. “So Abbie didn’t work out and now you need to ‘find another me, but not me’.”
Tony sighed, leaning back on the couch, head hanging over the arm rest in what looked like a truly uncomfortable position. “Don’t get me wrong,” Tony said quietly. “You are literally the best friend I could ask for. You get me. You don’t judge me.”
Stephen choked on a laugh, because he and Tony clearly remembered the past thirteen years very differently.
“Okay, so you judge me all the time,” Tony acceded. “I don’t think you’d know what to do with yourself if you weren’t judging every one around you.” Fair enough. “But you don’t…” Tony paused. “You judge me but you never find me less.”
All right, that Stephen could concede to.
“You never ask me for anything, but you also still wear that watch I got you, because you don’t have any shame about accepting things from me, either. It’s just…” Tony sighed.
Stephen glanced down at the watch on his wrist, smiling at the Portugesier watch Tony had given him almost five years ago. It was not the only watch Tony’d ever given him, but it had been the watch from Stephen’s ‘August’ birthday celebration. Stephen had always been inordinately fond of it. He looked up and examined Tony, trying to make sense of what was going on in Tony’s head.
“You realize,” Stephen said slowly. “That I’ve known you for 13 years, right? You can’t expect someone to match that on a first date.”
“Yeah,” Tony said, tone dispirited. “Which is why I need a you,” he said. “But obviously, not you.”
“That makes as much sense as it did the first time,” Stephen said, trying not to laugh.
Tony hummed, ignoring that. “Did you want my money?” Tony asked. “When we first met?” Tony tilted his head to look at him. “Should I be giving people a chance to see me and want me for more than just my money? I mean, I know you didn’t once we were friends. And you don’t now, even though you need a new wardrobe desperately.”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “Tony, I know I didn’t buy that suit currently hanging up in my closet, so the only way it got there was if you bought it for me and put it there.”
Tony ignored that with the great aplomb of someone who didn’t care if he’d been caught. And probably had no plans on stopping. “Well, did you?” Tony tilted his head. “Want my money back then?”
“Honestly?” Stephen asked.
Tony glared at him. “Obviously I want you to be honest. I didn’t ask you so you could lie to me.”
“No,” Stephen said. “I didn’t want your money. Sure, I was still paying off med school loans back then, but despite that, I was doing well for myself.” He paused. “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been hoping for sex that first night.”
Tony startled, almost falling off the couch. “Wait, what?” Tony asked, once he’d caught himself. He straightened in his seat. “You wanted sex?”
Stephen shrugged. “I mean, you can’t not know that you’re gorgeous.”
Tony stared at him, mouth opening and closing in confusion. “What? I mean, obviously.” The words were thrown out on reflex, Tony still clearly distracted. “You’ve never noticed that before.”
Stephen snorted. “Please. I have been aware of that since day one. Like I said, I was absolutely aiming for sex that night. I have no clue how you didn’t notice. I actually wondered if the tabloids were wrong and you weren’t interested in guys. But then that whole thing with John a few months later—”
“Was that his name?” Tony asked, bemused. “He was an asshole.”
He really had been, and not the type of asshole that Tony and Stephen were.
“—made it clear you were very obviously interested in guys, just not in me.” Stephen had gotten over that particular sting a long time ago. After all, John wasn’t the one still around, Stephen was. “And that you’d been trying to turn down my advances politely. We didn’t have sex, and instead you became my best friend. And, honestly, that’s the best possible way it could have turned out.”
He wouldn’t trade his friendship with Tony for anything.
“Huh.”
Tony blinked at him; Stephen could see him trying to wrap his mind around something he had obviously never considered. Stephen laughed, a little amused. He’d really thought that Tony had been trying to be polite—though knowing Tony, ‘polite’ was never really in the cards—about ignoring Stephen’s attraction.
It had never actually occurred to him that Tony was completely oblivious to it.
Stephen wasn’t quite sure what to think about that.
He didn’t exactly fear it changing anything between them, at this point. Nothing important, at least. So what, he was attracted to Tony? Most people were attracted to Tony. Tony didn’t exactly let that affect how he thought about people.
Tony leaned back against the couch arm again, staring at him in continued bafflement.
Stephen arched an eyebrow, a little surprised that Tony was still trying to wrap his mind around it. “You can’t honestly be surprised.”
“Actually, I really can be,” Tony muttered. “I’m just… not sure what it means.”
Stephen laughed, lip twitching up in amusement. “It doesn’t mean anything, Tony.” He reached down, wrapped his hand around Tony’s ankle, squeezing gently to anchor him back in the moment. Tony’s toes were still shoved under Stephen’s thigh and Stephen felt them flex a little as Tony scrunched them up.
“Do you…” Tony paused. Stephen saw him swallow, the movement of his throat obvious. “Do you still want that?” Tony asked.
That…
Stephen wasn’t actually sure how to answer that particular question. “Are you asking me if I still find you the most attractive man of my acquaintance?” Stephen asked. “Very much so.”
Tony flushed a little. “That’s… no. That wasn’t what I was asking.”
Except… Stephen smirked. He shifted a little, moved closer to Tony. “I think that’s exactly what you’re asking, Tony.” Tony’s earlier words came back, and maybe they did make sense. If Tony really had been oblivious all these years. Tony’s eyes dilated, just slightly as Stephen got closer. “So, Tony, still looking for someone who is me, but not me?”
“I—” Tony’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, looking a bit like a fish. “Really?”
Stephen shrugged. “I mean, I suppose there’s also the question of whether you’re attracted to me in turn. You’ve never given an indication of it before.” He pulled back, admittedly pleased by Tony’s flabbergasted reaction. “I meant it when I said it doesn’t mean anything, Tony. You’re my best friend, the fact that there also happens to be some physical attraction on my side doesn’t really matter.”
Tony looked away, a frown marring his expression. “I’d choose you,” Tony said. “Over anyone.” He swallowed. “With no sex or romance involved, I’d choose you just as we are over anything anyone else could give me. I’d choose a night with you over fancy dinners and sex. I’d choose a life with you without changing anything over the chance for any sort of romance of the ages…” Tony paused. “I’d choose you and me and the mess that is our lives over… well, the ‘traditional family values’ that supposedly make life worthwhile.”
“I would too,” Stephen said honestly. “You’re my best friend, Tony.”
Tony looked back, meeting his gaze. “You’re mine,” he said. A teasing grin crossed his face. “As disappointed as Rhodey would be to hear that.”
“Well, he can still claim longest friend,” Stephen said, dismissing that. He turned serious, because the conversation they were having deserved it. Stephen didn’t want there to be any miscommunication. “I didn’t tell you about my attraction in hopes of changing anything,” Stephen said. “If I thought it would ruin what we have, I’d have never said anything at all.”
Tony examined him. “So you don’t think it changes anything?”
Not quite what he’d meant. “I don’t think it changes the important things,” he said carefully. “Because you’d never toss me over because I find you entirely attractive and once wanted sex with you.”
“What about…” Tony paused. “I already told you I’d choose our friendship as it is,” he said. “Over anything else I might someday have with anyone else.”
“You did.”
Tony nodded. “I dated Pepper and we’re still friends, even though we broke up.”
Stephen could see where this was going. He did nothing to stop them from getting there. “You are.”
“Which, I mean, that sort of makes it seem like you and I could… you know, try to date, and… you know, see...” He looked up to meet Stephen’s gaze. “…if maybe we can stay best friends, with… a few changes.”
Stephen laughed, even as his heart raced in his chest. “Aiming for those ‘traditional family values’?” he asked. “Thought you didn’t need those.”
Tony’s laugh echoed Stephen’s own. “God, Stephen. There is literally nothing about you that is traditional. And anything we are, or might be, wouldn’t be all that traditional, either.”
“Tony…” Stephen examined Tony, trying to decide how to best put into words his thoughts. “Is this something you really want to try? What we have now is good, better than some people ever get.”
“I—” Tony paused, clearly thinking. “Only if you do,” he said finally. “I don’t really know the difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. Maybe because I’ve never been in love, before. But I figure… if I was ever going to experience the difference, I’d experience it with you.”
Stephen didn’t entirely know the difference either. Most of the time, he didn’t think he cared all that much, either.
“I don’t need it, though,” Tony said quietly. “Maybe we’ll try this and I’ll never feel any different about you than I do now. And… Stephen, I’d still want that life with you.”
“Yeah,” Stephen acknowledged quietly. “I’d still want that life with you, too.”
Tony’s smile was blinding. He shifted, pulling away from Stephen, but only so he could rearrange himself so they were cuddling. It was not new—they’d done it before—but he could feel Tony’s excitement, his anticipation. “You can go back to reading,” Tony said, once he’d gotten comfortable. “If you want.”
Stephen grabbed his book again, opening it up to the page he’d been on then flipping back a few pages to the beginning of the chapter. Tony always liked reading over Stephen’s shoulder; Stephen was used to going back a little bit on those nights when Tony joined him so Tony had context for what they were reading.
They read together, Tony tapping Stephen’s leg when he finished a page to keep them in sync. It was just as comfortable as any other night the two of them had ever shared together. Nothing felt all that different.
At some point, things might change. There would be boundaries they’d explore, physical intimacies they’d try that they’d never tried before.
At the same time, Stephen suspected that the important things would never change. Maybe they’d try physical intimacy and they’d realize it didn’t work for them. If that happened, they’d come back to now. And… And Stephen didn’t know exactly where things would take them, but it felt like they’d already made the most essential choice.
Romance and sex would either work out or it wouldn’t.
It didn’t matter.
Either way, they’d choose life with each other over life with anyone else.