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Steve used to love meals with his mom. It was their special time to talk about their days, about school and work. It was their time to laugh and tell stories. The day his mom found out about Howard, she ate dinner in her room, but that next day, at breakfast, she was right there at the table, asking him what the day held for him. It was a stilted and awkward conversation, but he had been grateful for it.
This time was different.
It had been two weeks since she found out about what he and the others had done. Two weeks of near silent meals, punctuated only by "pass the salt" and "don't forget to do the dishes."
He hated it. He hated the way she stared through him when she did talk to him, the way her lips thinned when he spoke to her. He wanted to fix it, he wanted to fix everything, but he didn't know how.
He asked Tony what to do during one of their late night conversations. We're just like Romeo and Juliet, Tony had said. You know, except with contraband cellphones, and without the sex or suicide. By the way, you're totally Juliet. And, how the hell should I know what do to? My parents haven't looked me in the eyes since I was three.
It was a horrible thing to say, but also true. He didn't know how Tony could stand it.
*****
Three days after Mom and Howard found out, she took him to the mansion and the three of them stood in the foyer. His mom had her back turned to them as she rearranged a vase of flowers. Howard stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking over Steve's shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Steve said, his voice breaking. "Howard, I'm so sorry. I… I hope you can forgive me."
"Is that all? Are you done?" Howard sounded bored, as if Steve's words meant nothing.
"Yes. That's all." Steve jammed his hands into his pockets and fought the urge to touch Howard.
"Then I think you should leave. I've got work to do."
Steve bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, and nodded.
*****
The whole school knew that Steve was gay. He was vice president of the Gay-Straight Alliance and he never hid the fact that he liked boys.
Every once in a while, someone would shove him against the locker or shout "fag" at him in the hallway, but it was never anything more than that. He was lucky, he knew he was.
Maybe if he kept his nose out of things, it would have stayed that way.
But Arnie was a friend and it was five boys to one and Steve did not like bullies. He bloodied the leader's nose and managed get another one in the eye before an adult came by and they all scattered.
"Thanks," Arnie said, dabbing at his bloody mouth with his sleeve.
Steve grinned at him, wincing as his jaw gave a twinge. "What are friends for?"
They laughed then, the both of them, and did their best to clean up before class.
The next day, during gym class, someone broke into his locker and shoved his clothes into one of the toilets. He rinsed them out, and wore his gym clothes the rest of the day.
*****
"Where have you been?" Isaiah asked, pulling up next to him as he walked home from school. "Come on, get in the car."
Steve did and they circled the block. "Tony said that he talked to you, told you what was going on."
"He did. He also told me that he managed to smuggle you a cell phone. So what gives, Rogers?"
"My mom's got me on lock down. She even hired a babysitter to watch me when she isn't at home.“ He shrugged. "Thing have been… tense. Have you found anything new?"
"No, nothing new, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't stay in contact." Isaiah frowned and touched his cheek. "What happened to your face?"
Steve jerked away. "Nothing. And you're right, I'm sorry. I usually call Tony on Tuesdays at midnight. I could call you at eleven on Thursdays. My mom works the nightshift then."
Isaiah nodded and pulled up to the front of Steve's building. "Do you still think we shouldn't tell our parents?"
"I think if my mom gets any more bad news about me, she might go ballistic. She's really.. It's really horrible and I think if I told her everything, it'd get worse. Do you think we should tell them?"
"Faith does, but I'm with you. I think telling our parents…" Isaiah clutched the steering wheel and let out a shaky sigh. "I just want to be normal. Why can't we be normal?"
Steve thought about Howard and the things they did together. He thought about all the things they *didn't* do because Howard said it was too much or he was too young. And he knew, even without this… thing, he still wouldn't be normal.
"I gotta go inside. I'll call you on Thursday."
"Okay. Let me know if you need anything." Isaiah squeezed his shoulder.
"Okay."
*****
When Steve was a freshman, the Enquirer did an exposé on Howard. They interviewed business rivals, old friends, and ex-lovers. He remembered one old boyfriend saying, "Howard Stark doesn't break up with people, he just moves on to the next willing body."
At the time, Steve thought that was unfair, but maybe it was true. When he opened the paper that morning, there was an article on some big gala. One of the pictures had Howard kissing a pretty little redhead.
He closed the paper, slowly, carefully, and poured himself a bowl of cereal, which he forced himself to eat. It wasn’t easy to swallow around the lump in his throat.
When Steve finished, he washed out the bowl, grabbed his jacket and backpack, and headed out to school. He told himself he didn’t care about those pictures in the paper. After all, he always knew that Howard would cheat, this was no different.
Still, it felt different. It felt… He felt tired and sick to his stomach, and he hoped he was catching the flu. Except that he was a freak, so of course he wasn’t.
*****
The next week it was a brunet and Steve wasn’t so careful this time. He shredded the paper into confetti, then got yelled at by his mom since she hadn’t read it yet.
*****
“You just got to hold on until summer, Steve,” Tony said.
“I guess,” Steve said, as he huddled under his blankets, cellphone pressed to his ear.
“Come on. You’ll be seventeen in July, that’s the age of consent, right? I’m sure Dad’ll pull his head out of his ass by then.”
Steve laughed softly. “And Bucky will be home for a few weeks.”
“And I’ll be stuck at Casa de Stark this year.”
“You’re not going to stay with her mom at her villa in France?”
“It’s a chateau,” Tony said with mock-snobbishness. “And no, staying with Dad is part of my punishment for the whole DOD thing.”
“Sorry,” he said, feeling horrible all over again.
“Oh, please, don’t even. This has got to be the best punishment I’ve ever gotten. I don’t have to deal with Mom’s creepy boyfriends and Dad won’t notice when I sneak out for some one on one time with my bestie! Speaking of which, did you ask your mom about my birthday weekend?”
“Yeah, she said no.”
“Damn. You’re going to miss a great party, Steve-o.”
“I wish I could—“ Steve stills when he thinks he hears something. “Gotta go!” He thumbs off the cell, shoves it under the pillow, and feigns sleep. He keeps his breathing even as the door to his room squeaks open, but doesn’t relax until he hears it close.
*****
Steve sat on the bench in the locker room, holding his jacket, his brand new jacket, in his hands. He traced the word someone had written on the back in black marker.
Before he could stop himself, he punched his locker door. The metal gave way and pain blossomed through his hand, clearing away the anger and hurt. The skin of one of his knuckles had spilt open, he gasped, and sucked away the bright blood.
He got dressed and shoved his jacket in his backpack. He couldn’t go home with his jacket like that. His mom would freak out. She… it would be one more thing she had to deal with and he didn’t want to see that tired look on her face again.
At lunch, he left campus and took the subway to Manhattan. It was stupid, he was being stupid, but he had to try. He couldn’t… there had to be a way to save the jacket. It was new and his mom had spent a lot of money on it.
He didn’t knock on the front door in case… just in case.
“Steven,” Mr. Jarvis said, when he opened the back door, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Mr. Jarvis. I know… I know I’m not supposed to be here, but, but, sir—“ His voice cracked and he scrambled to open his backpack, to show him… to show someone… He drew out the jacket. “I need to get this out. It’s new and Mom’ll be mad if I… Please, help me, Mr. Jarvis. Please!”
“Oh, Steven.” Mr. Jarvis put a gentle hand on his shoulder and drew him inside. “Let me see what I can do.”
Steve was so relieved that his eyesight blurred and he had to rub his eyes to make it go away. “Thank you. Sir, thank you.”
A few minutes later, Steve was sitting at the kitchen island, a sandwich and glass of milk in front of him while Mr. Jarvis dealt with his jacket. Steve finished lunch, took a cookie from its jar, and headed to the laundry room where he watched Mr. Jarvis work his magic.
“How is he?” he asked softly.
Mr. Jarvis momentarily stopped scrubbing and looked at Steve. “He misses you.”
“Yeah, I see that every time I open the newspaper,” he said bitterly.
“Don’t mistake obligation for desire, Steven. You’ve made a study of his modus operandi, don’t let jealousy get in the way of common sense.”
Steve looked away, his face flushed with embarrassment. He did know, he did. Howard didn’t cheat until he was drunk out of his skull. Did that mean… “Thank you, sir.”
“Give it time.” Jarvis looked at the jacket with a critical eye. “I think I’ve managed to save it. Why don’t I bandage your hand while we wait for it to dry.”
When he walked through the door, on time, he was sure to be home on time, his mom was waiting for him in the living room.
"You're home," he said, surprised. He hung up his jacket and set his backpack near the table so he could do his homework.
"I got a call from your school today." Steve could hear the barely contained rage in her voice. "You're ditching school now? Was it to see *him?*"
"No, Mom, I wasn't trying to visit Howard." He opened his backpack and began taking out his book.
"Where were you then, Steve? Look at me, dammit!"
Steve slowly turned to look at her. She was standing now, her hands clenched into fists, her face red, tears in her eyes. He thought about his jacket and the things that had been happening at school.
He thought about telling her everything, but then she let out a frustrated sound and said, "I have enough to worry about now that they're limiting our ability to work overtime at the hospital. I don't need you making matters worse!"
Steve swallowed hard and took a hesitant step towards her. He wanted to hug her, but he was afraid she'd turn away. "I could get a job," he said, because even with overtime, they had a hard time making ends meet.
She shook her head and made an angry sound. "I can't even trust you to go to school."
"Mom—"
"What's wrong with you?" she asked and the accusation made Steve gasp in shock
"Everything," he replied, in a burst of honesty, then locked himself up in his bedroom the rest of the night.
*****
It all came to a head three weeks later—a little over two months after getting caught by Howard—when someone, as if he didn't know who, wrote "fag" on his locker with a pink glittery marker. He clenched his hands into fists and looked over at the crowd of boys snickering and sneering, and something inside of him finally snapped.
He dropped his backpack on the ground and stormed over to those boys. "You think that's funny?"
"What's wrong? The little queer can't take a joke?" said the ringleader, Nate.
Steve narrowed his eyes and sucker punched the boy in his face.
"No," he said, as the Nate lay on the floor, bleeding, "this little queer can't."
The other boys in the group, all of them bullies, surged forward, but before they could do anything, Mrs. Whitmore, the vice principal appeared, and they scattered. All but him and Nate who was whimpering and bleeding on the floor.
"What is going on here?" asked Mrs. Whitmore, helping Nate to his feet.
"I punched him for writing that on my locker." Steve pointed to the glittery graffiti. "And now I'm going home."
"No, now you're coming with me to the office. You're in a lot of trouble, Mr. Rogers."
Of course he was, he'd probably be suspended and Nate would get detention for a few days.
"I'm out of here." He grabbed his backpack and headed towards the exit.
"Come back here, Mr. Rogers, or you'll be expelled. Get back here now!"
Steve looked over his shoulder, suddenly calm. "So expel me!"
He got about halfway home, before he stopped, before the enormity of what he'd done really hit him. He staggered back against the wall of the nearest building and covered his mouth with his hands. His mom was going to be so mad. She'd yell at him and… Oh, God, he just ruined everything. He ruined *everything!*
Steve couldn’t go home. He couldn't face his mom. She'd hate him, she'd…No, no, he… He had to get away. He… he just needed time to think. Yes, he needed to think. But where could he go?
*****
Five hours later, Steve was standing in front of Tony’s dorm room door.