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cap_ironman2010-04-14 02:15 am
(FIC) You Were Made For Me Ch.IV
Author: GlasgowSmiles
Rating: PG-13
Warning/Spoilers: Character deaths (in alternate universe). Alternate universes.
Pairing: Steve/Tony and pre-Steve/Tony
Word Count: 1,674
A/N: I enjoy alternate universes, and seeing them meet. Also, I tend to keep my chapters short, and I try to post them regularly as I can, so if you're a fan of bite-sized bits of fic, read on, and if you prefer getting the whole story at once, then wait until it's finished and I'll have links to previous chapters.
Summary: A warning arrives of a potential threat from an alternate universe, and Tony Stark reaches new levels in self-loathing.
Intro here: http://community.livejournal.com/cap_ironman/502031.html
And Chapter One: http://community.livejournal.com/cap_ironman/502581.html
And Chapter Two: http://community.livejournal.com/cap_ironman/503530.html
And Chapter Three: http://community.livejournal.com/cap_ironman/504764.html
EDIT: I think I solved my link problem!
“I don’t want to talk about it.” The other Tony pushed past Reed Richards, tossing the Traveler down on the table next to the hub as he went.
“But—data!”
“Not now.” Tony sighed, shouldering past Richards and following his double to the spare room. “How bad?”
“Not end-of-the-world level bad. Not good.” He shrugged. “I feel like I need it sometimes.”
Tony grimaced. “Yeah. So do I, sometimes.”
“No offense, but you’ve got nothing on me in the needing-a-drink category.”
“No. I guess not. What—“
“Everyone was surprised to see me. Said they ‘didn’t expect me to clean up’. Said it, to my face. So, that was great. You know why I don’t, even though that voice in my head is saying it would dull the pain so much more than anything I’m trying now?”
“Because that voice is a damn liar.”
The other Tony snorted. “Well, there’s that, too. You swear a lot more than I do... it’s probably because we had a jar.”
“A... jar?”
“Steve and I. I put in a hundred bucks any time he caught me swearing around the house. Even if we went up against Galactus, it was no language you wouldn’t hear on TV at three in the afternoon. Can you believe that? But it worked.”
“Isn’t a dollar more ordinary?”
“Oh, yeah, a dollar. That’s gonna make me hurt. Anyway, at the end of every month, the money went to Amnesty International. Can you freaking believe that?”
“Hell, I’d stop swearing, too.”
“I hope you’re aware of the iro—“
“Nobody’s making me give money to Amnesty International. He had to pick the one charity we’d never agree on, huh?”
“I couldn’t believe it. Man stomps the everloving snot out of the entire Third Reich, now he’s the face of bleeding heart liberalism? But... I guess that’s—that was—that’s always—So that’s why I don’t. Go back to drinking.”
“The swear jar?”
“All of it. I wouldn’t have gotten sober if it hadn’t been for him. And I wouldn’t have... a lot of things. And he stood by me, a lot of times when nobody else did. I don’t know if there’s any kind of afterlife,” He shrugged. “One where you, like, float around on clouds and look down on your loved ones. But if there is, then he deserves a lot better than seeing me turn back into that wreck. Maybe I deserve a lot better, too.”
“So what did you say?”
“In the other universe? Said they must’ve gotten me confused with someone else. Which, in a way, was accurate. What would you have done?”
“Depends a lot on who I’m talking to, because I probably wouldn’t slap a woman...”
“That Tony Stark is probably dead in a gutter somewhere. I did a little research... Stane is literally making a killing running the company, the Avengers are scraping by somehow, I guess... and—“
“If he was dead, couldn’t you step in and—“
“No. Not there. I don’t have it in me right now to fight for everything he lost. And I want to be remembered for my brilliant contributions to science, stunning good looks, and Scrooge MacDuck-like vault of magic, swimmable gold,”
“Well, who doesn’t?”
“Yeah, and not for getting smashed on New Year’s Eve and relieving myself in a fountain.”
“What, like, a public fountain? He pissed in a public fountain?”
The other Tony grimaced. “I said ‘relieved’. I didn’t say it was urine.”
“I—I cannot imagine—or at least remember—being drunk enough to make taking a crap in a fountain look like a good idea. No, you can’t live that down. No one must hear of that. It reflects poorly on, well, us.”
“No argument here.”
“If that’s all...” He hesitated.
“Tony... we’re essentially the same person. Different things go wrong or right, but so far... I find it hard to believe you wouldn’t be better off with him. You don’t need a big public wedding, you don’t even need a swear jar, but you need Steve Rogers, and you know it. Don’t you?”
“The one time I wasn’t drinking...” Tony sighed. “He was the only one who believed me.”
“Take it slow at first. Let him take the lead, or at least let him set the pace.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever once taken it slow with anyone.”
“You ever cared about someone before? I mean really cared, not fake-cared.”
“... Maybe not. Look, even if—I’m not saying I want this, okay? For all I know, Steve doesn’t want this.”
“Relax. It’s worth taking it slow at first, too. But, ah, if you get into a close call type situation, don’t be afraid to milk it a little bit. I swear, it will be the best sex you will ever have in your life. And... and you’ll never have to worry about him. If you wake up and he’s not there, he’s probably just jogging, and he’ll probably bring you breakfast when he gets back, and I never for a minute doubted he kissed me goodbye before he left. Every morning. No matter how asleep or snoring or drooling I was. I never for a second doubted that. I... I never for a second thought he didn’t mean it. When he loved me. Excuse me, could you go tell Richards we talked. There was no useful data. No important differences.”
“I’ll tell him.” And Tony Stark left the room as fast as he could without looking like he was hurrying. If there was one thing he didn’t want to see, it was himself in tears.
Steve was leaning casually against the counter, smiling and laughing at one of Thor’s stories. And Tony was nervous. Tony Stark didn’t do nervous. Tony Stark was never nervous, certainly not about talking to his—platonic!—friend. Well, maybe once or twice, early on, when the hero worship—which was not a crush, in no way sexual—was still going strong. But that was different. That wasn’t... that wasn’t like this.
“Steve, can we talk?”
“Sure.” He grinned, perfect, at ease, still smiling.
Tony reminded himself to keep breathing. “I want to get your help on something. The, uh, the sitting room, in there?”
“I’m familiar with the room, Tony.” Steve laughed.
“Well, I ordered the new couch.”
“Oh. Good. Not white leather this time?”
“No. Um, no, it’s, it’s kind of a mustard color. It’s sort of fabric-y. Anyway, there’s also a throw rug coming in that’s going to tie that together, with the walls, because I’m not re-painting or anything. But I have some, ah, some samples. And I wanted to put something up on the wall. And, I have all this money to blow to do it. But it turns out I don’t actually know anything about art.” He aimed for a disarming grin.
“Well, if your tastes don’t run too modern, I could help you out, I guess. I mean, technically it’s been a real long time since I went to art school. What are you going for?”
“Something... nice? If I got the samples, for the rug and couch fabric—Pepper will know where they are. If I got those, would you... would you want to help me find something? There’s this little gallery uptown, I’ve heard good things, but, like I said. I don’t know art.”
“Whenever you’ve got the time. I mean, provided we’ve got the time. You know what I mean. No supervillains attack, I’m your man.”
“Couldn’t be more glad to hear it.” He grinned. “I’ve got the time set aside Friday noon.”
“Pepper, I need you to find me a good art gallery uptown. I need to buy a painting.”
“A painting? All right, I’ll arra—“
“No. I... I need to go down and actually buy the painting. Myself.”
She stifled a laugh. “You don’t know anything about art.”
“I know what I like.” He shrugged.
“You will get ripped off. Sir.” She smiled and shook her head.
“I’ll be taking my own expert, thanks for your faith in me. And while you’re at it, make me an appointment with the owner of said gallery for two in the afternoon, find a nice restaurant very near to said gallery and get me a table for twelve—“
“A table for twelve?”
“Twelve o’clock. A table for two. A nice place, okay? The kind of place people are mildly impressed to be taken to, but nothing, you know, pushy. It’s lunch, so, dark and romantic is kind of...” He made a vague gesture. “You know? Wrong time of day for it. Gets too oppressive.”
She sighed, slight frown creeping up on her. “Who is she?”
“Hm? Who is who? The gallery owner? Won’t know ‘til you find the place. Might be a man.”
“Your date. Your table for twelve for two.”
“My expert. I told you about it.” He waved her off and headed for his desk. “It’s not a date. It’s just a couple of guys, buying a painting.”
“Just a couple of guys buying a painting?” The slight frown became a sly smile. “Who’s your expert?”
“Nobody. Not important. I happen to know someone who knows a little something about art, that’s all. And he is helping me buy a painting. I’m gonna need the samples for the new couch and the rug, for the Avenger’s mansion.”
“For the mansion, got it. For the mansion?”
“Yeah. Is it that weird? That I’m buying a painting to hang in a house that I own?”
“No, Mr. Stark.”
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Smiling like that. It makes me feel like you know things. I’m almost certain it means you’re up to something.”
“I will get you the gallery information right away and have the samples in your briefcase on Friday. I hope you and Captain Rogers have a wonderful time looking at art.”
“Thank y—How do you do that? How do you know these things, that I don’t tell you?”
“It’s what you pay me for.”
---TBC---
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I love this story and can't wait for more. Your Alternate!Tony is awesome and I really want to hug him right now...
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Thanks so very much. Alt!Tony does need hugs, don't he?