Chapter Text
“Yeah well fuck you!” screamed Tony.
“You already did!” screamed Tiberius, leering at Tony from across the hall. “And you were about as good as a cheap whore, all loose and free.”
“You’re such an asshole,” snapped Tony, tears streaming down his bruised cheek. “Just leave already!”
“I’m going to go out,” announced Tiberius. “And find myself an actual decent fuck. And when I come back in the morning I expect you to have that mess you made cleaned up.”
Tony slammed the apartment door and marched to the closet to get his shoes. Once he had them tied, Tony stormed out.
It was raining but that didn’t matter, he wasn’t going far. The coffee shop was at the ground level of the apartment building. Tony was soaked by the time he got there but his usual table was open. It was too late for the place to be busy and his table was the worst one in the place, right next to the counter, high traffic, never a moment of peace, and with a great view of the hot coffee maker.
“You left your book last time,” said the coffee maker, tossing Tony his worn book.
“Thanks,” said Tony, ignoring the book and glaring at the table.
There was a partial ring from a different coffee cup marring the surface of the scarred wooden table. There were a lot of things Tony thought about that table – the stories it could tell, the conversations it had witnessed, the coffee that had been spilled on it. It was the same table he had sat at for months. He had done his homework on it, drawn up plans for robots, doodled absentmindedly, accomplished nothing. It was his table. And if he ever died he wanted to be buried with that table. Not that he planned on dying because he wasn’t sure that whatever afterlife waited for him wouldn’t include coffee and if there was no coffee he wasn’t going.
“He’s such an asshole,” said Tony after a while to no one in particular.
It didn’t matter, the coffee shop was almost deserted. No one cared enough to listen anyway. Tony didn’t have friends, not anymore. Tiberius didn’t like his old friends so they had to go.
“You okay?” asked one of the coffee makers, a guy named Clint. “You seem pretty upset.”
“I’m fine,” snapped Tony, not looking up from his table.
“Leave Tony alone, Clint,” called Steve, the guy working the register. “He only likes to talk to himself.”
“That’s not true,” said Bucky, who was sweeping the floor near the door. “Sometimes Tony talks to that blonde dick. You know, the bastard who only ever orders the frilly drinks, never tips, and offends the rest of our customers?”
“His name is Tiberius,” said Steve absently, doodling on a discarded receipt. “Not bastard. Though he is an asshole, so I can see why you got confused.”
Tony rolled his eyes but refused to look up. He actually really liked Clint, Steve, and Bucky. They left him alone when he was working, talked to him when he wasn’t, and always refilled his coffee cup even though Tony was fairly certain that was against the rules.
“Where is blondie tonight anyway?” asked Clint. “He’s usually here by now, demanding you go with him to his lair or whatever.”
“He’s out,” replied Tony, finally looking up.
“Shit man, what happened to your face?” asked Clint, taking in the bruised cheek and several day old black eye. “Get into a fight?”
“Something like that,” replied Tony.
It was no use explaining it to someone like Clint; he wouldn’t understand. Clint would just judge him, everyone else did. But no one ever did anything about it because Tony was a guy, he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Tony never did anything because he was a guy and perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And people like Clint would never understand that.
“Look, we’re closing early,” said Bucky. “But if you want, we have an apartment right upstairs, you can come hang out with us for a while.”
“No thanks,” said Tony.
“What else do you have planned?” asked Clint. “A busy night of brooding?”
“Maybe.”
“Naw, come on,” said Bucky, putting away the broom and throwing a companionable arm around Tony’s shoulders, guiding the smaller young man away from the table. “We’re going to order pizza and watch stupid movies. You can brood there.”
“Yeah,” agreed Steve, locking up the registar while Clint got the lights. “It’s high time we move past the coffee stage and on to the hanging out outside of work stage.”
“This isn’t my work,” said Tony, offering only that token protest.
“It may as well be,” said Clint. “Come on. We’re done and I’m hungry.”
Tony followed the three friends back into the same apartment building he lived in. The only difference was that Tony lived three floors above them and two doors down. Also their apartment was furnished with hand-me-down couches and chairs and the walls were papers in drawing and photographs. It was comfortable, cozy. Tony liked it and instantly regretted that he was so at ease in the new environment.
“You have any preferences on toppings?” asked Clint, already dialing the phone.
“No olives,” said Tony, making himself comfortable on the overstuffed, oversized, armchair.
Bucky turned on a movie and Steve went to his bedroom and changed. Tony watched as the three men moved around each other. There was a noticeable lack of arguing, no fighting, ample teasing, a bit of flirting, and when the pizza arrived, Bucky paid because it turned out that it was his turn to pay.
“You guys are strange,” said Tony.
Steve laughed. Bucky was about to shut the door when Tiberius walked through the hall on the way to the connecting stairwell. He was drunk and not alone.
“Tony?” slurred Tiberius, spotting the other male in the apartment. “What are you doing there you little slut?”
“Go away, Ty,” sighed Tony. “I’m done fighting with you.”
“Enjoy the whore,” said Tiberius, laughing lewdly. “He’s a lousy fuck.”
Bucky slammed the door and locked it, which did wonders for muffling the burning comments from the drunken man in the hall. All eyes were fixed on Tony who in turn fixed his eyes on the ground, wishing it would just open it up and swallow him.