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Steve is fourteen and in love with his best friend. He doesn’t say anything because, well, because Tony talks about girls all the time: the curves of their bodies, the softness of their hair, the way they smell, the way they’ll taste when he finally gets that first kiss. Steve listens and smiles when Tony talks about girls, nods and makes all the right noises even though his stomach churns with fear.
Steve’s never thought about girls that way, and he should probably tell Tony. Tony, his mom, Bucky, he knows he should tell them because they love him and want him to be happy. But…
But Tony’s dad is gay, it’s the reason his parents divorced, and Tony’s still bitter about it. And Bucky could be brash and crude and Steve’s afraid that Bucky will look at him in disgust.
Steve’s mom—he’s never sick anymore, but he’s still small and skinny and sometimes her eyes linger on his face like she’s expecting him to die any day now. He doesn’t want to give her another reason to worry. He doesn’t want to give her eyes another reason to linger.
Someday he’ll tell them. Maybe.
*****
Tony is in love with Rumiko Fujikawa. At least that’s what he tells Steve. “I’m in negotiations to take her out,” he says. “But she drives a hard bargain.”
“Negotiations?” Steve is stretched out on Tony’s bed, watching him pace the room. He’s met Rumiko once. She’s pretty and has a personality to match Tony’s. Steve thinks they’ll be perfect together right until they drive each other up the wall.
“Of course! A girl like her has expectations. She doesn’t leave the house for anything but the perfect evening.” Tony paces his way over to the bed and nudges Steve over. He stretches out on the bed too. “I want it to be perfect. She’s been out on a lot of dates. I want… I want her to remember mine.”
“She will,” he says, clasping Tony’s hand and squeezing. “You’re Tony freaking Stark.”
Tony laughs at that and nudges Steve with his leg. “I don’t think she got the memo. Besides, she’s been with guys who are in their twenties! And I… I haven’t even kissed a girl yet.”
Steve knows that. For all Tony’s brilliance, for all his money, and brashness, he’s still a geek who plays D&D on Saturday nights and quotes Star Wars.
“You could,” he starts, swallowing hard. “You could practice.”
Tony rolls his eyes. “That’ll go over well when she finds out. And you know she’ll find out.”
It was true. Tony couldn’t spit without it making the tabloids, no matter how many times Mr. Stark told them Tony was off-limits.
“You could practice with me.” Steve’s stomach clenches with tension.
“You’re a boy!”
“Thanks, I hadn’t noticed.” He keeps his tone sarcastic, doesn’t let his nerves show. “A mouth’s a mouth, Tony. It’s not like… like… you know.”
“I know? What do I know?” Tony says, his voice teasing as Steve’s face goes red.
“Look, if you don’t want my help, just say so. You don’t have to be a jerk about it.” He stares up at the ceiling. He doesn’t… he can’t look at Tony.
“Aww, baby,” Tony says in that voice, that voice that says he knows he did something wrong, he just doesn’t know what, so he’s going to make a joke. He slides an arm around Steve’s waist and whispers in his ear: Steve shudders. “Don’t be like that. I love you. You’re the only blond in my life.”
Steve laughs—because if he doesn’t, he’ll cry—and gently elbows Tony in the chest. “Put up or shut up, Stark. You want my help or not?”
“Fine, fine! So, do I gotta buy you dinner first or what?”
“The pizza we had earlier was good enough. Now, c’mon, you’ve… you’ve already got me into bed.” Steve blushes hard, but that’s okay, because Tony’s face is red, too, red and… unsure. No, Steve... he doesn’t want that. “Are you scared?”
“No!” And suddenly the unsure look fades and he looks determined because Tony hates being called scared. He sits up and looks down at Steve, just stares at him.
And Steve knows that look. That’s Tony’s “I don’t know how, but I’m going to make this damn idea work” look. It’d be more flattering if Steve were a math problem or a piece of machinery. Steve lets out a quiet huff and smiles up at him.
Tony laughs, softly, and shakes his head. “Freak.”
Something inside of Steve twists uncomfortably, but he just makes a face. Tony lowers his head and Steve closes his eyes because… because he doesn’t know why.
Oh, Tony’s mouth is soft and dry and he’s sort of kissing the corner of Steve’s mouth. When he tries to correct, their noses bump and it should probably matter more, but it doesn’t because this is Steve’s first kiss and it’s hilarious and perfect all at the same time.
Tony pulls back and Steve opens his eyes. Tony’s nose is scrunched and he’s looking unsure. “I can do better.”
“Okay,” Steve says and this time when Tony lowers his mouth, he keeps his eyes open.
It is better this time. Their noses don’t bump and Tony manages to kiss him full on the lips. Tony hums softly and Steve feels something wet press against his lips. And it’s… oh, it’s Tony’s tongue. He parts his lips and Tony tastes like a weird combo of banana taffy and the pizza they had earlier. It should be gross, but it’s not because it’s perfect.
Steve brushes his tongue against Tony’s, kissing back, tentatively, sliding his hands up Tony’s arms. He moans softly, his body finally catching up with what they’re doing and Tony’s hand slides up his shirt, fingers dancing up his ribs, then down towards—
Tony’s cell phone blares to life and they jerk apart. Tony’s flushed and panting and so beautiful and Steve wants to pull him back into a kiss, but Tony’s already fumbling for his phone.
“Rumiko,” he says, turning away from Steve as he answers the call, his voice going deep and warm.
Disappointment flares, hot and bright, in the pit of his stomach, and he tells himself to stop, just stop. He knows the score, has always known, and he needs to stop being so stupid. He rolls off the bed and onto his feet. Tony glances at him, but Steve mimes drinking and Tony nods.
The trek to the kitchen is exhausting and for a brief moment Steve considers just going home. Tony will be talking to Rumiko for hours, a sort of back and forth that leaves Steve puzzled. Of course, Steve won’t go home, because despite Tony’s preoccupation, it would hurt his feeling if Steve left. And Steve isn’t in the habit of hurting Tony. Too many people do that already.
Mr. Jarvis is in the kitchen, but then, Mr. Jarvis is *always* in the kitchen. When he sees Steve he smiles and reaches in the fridge and takes out a Coke.
“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis,” he says, taking the can. He leans against the kitchen island, opens the soda, and sips it.
“You’re very welcome, Steven. Is Master Anthony on the phone with Ms. Fujikawa?”
“Yes,” he says, and watches Mr. Jarvis put away the dinner dishes. He’d offer to help, but he knows what the answer to that will be. He brings the can to his mouth again, but doesn’t drink. His chest hurts and his eyes burn and it’s hard to breathe.
“Steven? Are you all right?” Mr. Jarvis hurries over to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Do I need to call your mother?”
Steve shakes his head and takes a deep breath. He can’t… He… “I’m gay.”
“Ah,” Mr. Jarvis says, but doesn’t pull away. He leads Steve to one of the stools around the kitchen island and makes him sit. “This calls for provisions.”
“Pro—“ He smiles when Mr. Jarvis brings the cookie jar over and opens it. “Right from the jar?”
“Situations such as these demand immediacy.”
“Thanks, Mr. Jarvis.” He takes a few cookies—chocolate chip, his favorite—and nibbles on one. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“Then I’m honored you’d grace me with such knowledge. Are you all right, dear boy?”
“I don’t know,” he says softly. “I’m scared. What if… What if people hate me?”
Mr. Jarvis looks thoughtful for a moment. “No doubt there will be people who shall. That, unfortunately, is a fact of life. There will always be people who hate you because of where you were born, what you look like, what you believe. But you’re not worried about nameless people, are you?”
“What if Tony… If my mom…” And he can’t go on. He can’t.
“Your mother loves you, Steven. *Tony* loves you. And when you choose to tell them about this part of yourself, they will still love you.”
“How do you know?” His voice is shaking.
“I know because when I met your mother I saw where your strength and kindness originated.” Mr. Jarvis reaches over and touches Steve’s hand. “I know because I’ve known Tony since he was two days old.”
The tightness in his chest eases, just a bit. “Can I sit here for a bit?”
“Of course, Steven.”
A half hour later, Tony comes bounding into the room. “There you are! Where’ve you been? Never mind! Ru agreed to go on a date with me!”
“That’s great, Tony!” He smiles, big and bright and just the tiniest bit forced. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Mr. Jarvis slip out of the room.
Tony tilts his head a little and says, hesitantly. “And we’re okay?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“I don’t know. I—I…” Tony licks his lips. “You’re my best friend, Steve. And that kiss, it was sort of weird.”
“Was it?” Steve wrinkles his nose, then clears his throat. “I guess it was.”
“Yeah. We shouldn’t do that again.” Tony puts his arm around Steve’s shoulders.
He forces himself to relax against Tony and smile. “Whatever, prude.”
‘Hey!” Tony bumps his hip against Steve’s. “It’s a rule. It’s totally a rule. A new rule. No making out with my best friend.”
“Try to help a guy out and suddenly he thinks everyone wants to make out with him.”
Tony looks awkward for a moment, then he… sniffs Steve’s mouth. “Hey, were you eating cookies? You totally were, you have cookie breath! That’s totally not fair! Jarvis! Jarvis, Steve is totally not allowed to eat cookies without me! My butler should *not* like my friends better than me!”
Steve laughs and shoves Tony away. Tony is loud and crazy and completely horrible, but Steve loves him. Steve loves him and it hurts and it’s wonderful and maybe everything will be all right. Or maybe it won’t.
But he thinks maybe it will be.