Fic: Spring Break
Title: Spring Break
Fandom: Iron Man/Marvel
Rating: M
Disclaimer: If I owned it, the gay would be way more obvious.
Warning: non-con
Summary: "Spring break, 1987," Tony always says. Like it was Rhodey's spring break, that he just told Tony about. Like it happened to Rhodey.
"Speaking of manned or unmanned, you gotta get him to tell you about the time he guessed wrong at spring break. Just remember that, spring break, 1987. That lovely lady you woke up with."
"Don't do that!"
"What was his name?"
"Don't do that."
"Was it lvan?"
"Don't do that. They'll believe it. Don't do that."
Tony Stark and Lt. Colonel James Rhodes, Iron Man
Spring Break
Tony never tells the full story, or even the true story, and Rhodey's fine with that. To be honest, the thing that confuses him is why Tony even brings up the story at all. When he stops to think about it, it's probably some weird way Tony tries to cope with things. It's probably the closest they'll ever come to actually talking about what happened. "Spring break, 1987," Tony always says. Like it was Rhodey's spring break, that he just told Tony about.
Like it happened to Rhodey.
It was actually a few years later than that, just after Tony had graduated from MIT, but Rhodey guesses it was spring break, if you wanted to put it that way. To be more accurate, it was Tony dragging Rhodey halfway across the world with him because he and his dad had gotten into a fight. Rhodey still doesn't know what they fought over-- at the time, Tony was too upset to tell him, and they got the news of the Starks' deaths only a few weeks later. Looking back on it, "My dad's just being an asshole, okay?" was probably the last thing Rhodey ever heard Tony say about his father that wasn't to do with legacy or Stark Industries. They went to Paris, to London, to Tokyo, to Milan, to Munich, back to London... it was a trip being planned by Tony Stark, with all of the excess and exhilaration you'd expect. Rhodey remembers a lot of incredible food and alcohol, and some even more incredible women.
He can't think of the women without guilt twisting his stomach into a knot, though. He actually still feels a bit of that guilt every time Tony tries to set him up with a girl, or tries to point out his stupid stripper flight attendants. Rhodey always pushes that guilt down, tells himself to ignore it, but he can't help but wonder if Tony knows what he's feeling. Maybe Rhodey isn't the only one who gets the feeling that he should have been there.
Like if he'd been there, Tony would have been okay.
They were in some dark and noisy club in London, and Rhodey had already lost count of drinks, when Tony caught his eye and nodded in the direction of some blonde woman with enormous tits stuffed into a tiny dress. She caught Rhodey's eye and grinned, making her way unsteadily towards them. Rhodey was about to turn to Tony, but his friend's hand was already on his shoulder, and Tony was already saying, "Check in in half an hour, decide who's sleeping where?"
She was nice enough. Rhodey can't remember her name now. For some reason that bothers him. It's like... this woman, she's the reason he wasn't there, and he can't even remember her name?
Half an hour later, he excused himself and found Tony again. Tony was in a corner, talking to some guy in a leather jacket. Rhodey's never been particularly interested in men, but even looking back, even knowing what kind of a man he was, he has to admit the guy was damn handsome. He had a couple inches on Tony, and Rhodey remembers noticing, as he drew closer to the two of them, how Tony's head was tipped back to look up at the guy, how enthralled Tony looked. Rhodey had to say Tony's name three times before his friend even noticed he was there and turned to talk to him. The whole time they spoke, the guy's eyes were on Rhodey, uncomfortably possessive, like Rhodey was trying to take something from him. It shook Rhodey a little, but as he and Tony parted ways (he to the woman's place, Tony to their hotel room), he assured himself that Tony knew how to handle himself.
Rhodey still lies awake at night sometimes, wondering how the hell he ever thought that; beating himself up for thinking that an emotionally unstable seventeen-year-old kid could handle himself like that. He tries to tell himself that he was drunk, but that never makes him feel any better.
So Rhodey had a great night, of course, and so did the woman, and then Rhodey woke up with a hangover sometime around noon. He dressed groggily, and brushed his teeth, and he said his awkward goodbye as he left to head back to the hotel.
He'll never forget walking into that hotel room. The lights were off, and Tony's shoes were in the hall, and Rhodey just shook his head as he stepped over them. As he reached the living area, he called Tony's name, on the off chance that the guy was still there. Looking around, he saw a chair tipped over, and a wrinkled tie on the floor, but he didn't understand yet what he was seeing.
A shaky groan from the bedroom was his first clue that something wasn't right. "Tony?" he called, going to the door. He didn't see anyone on the bed, and he was about to turn away, thinking he must have mistaken where the sound was coming from, when he heard it again. "Tony?" he asked, stepping around the bed.
Tony was on the ground between the bed and the wall, blankets tangled around his naked body. His eyes were pained and unfocused, and Rhodey still remembers the dried tears and snot all over his face, crusted with the blood and semen that still turn his stomach, even in memory. Tony's arms were covered in bruises, and so was his chest, but none of them were as dark as the ones on his throat, the shapes of two large, angry hands, thick fingers, two little cuts on Tony's throat where the thumbnails went in, colored with blood.
You'd think Rhodey would have gotten tunnel vision at that point, just focused on Tony himself, focused on his friend being alive, but he didn't. He dropped to his knees next to his friend, shouting Tony's name, feeling Tony's pulse to reassure himself even as Tony shuddered pathetically, but Rhodey was still noticing things-- details that would stay with him. He still remembers the bite marks on Tony's shoulders, less hickeys and more something you'd do to a piece of steak. He remembers the blood caked under Tony's nails, and staining the sheets that covered him. The worst memory, though, the one that occasionally shows up in Rhodey's dreams, and always leaves him awake and nauseous, is how Tony's hand weakly grasped at his shirt, how he choked on Rhodey's name, how his eyes were filled with shame and pain and self-loathing and a million other things Rhodey wouldn't let himself name.
Once Rhodey was sure that Tony wasn't in danger, he started to get up, go for the phone. Tony's hand tightened on his, and Rhodey sighed. "Tony," he said, voice shaking, "we need to get you to a hospital." Tony whimpered then, and that really shot through Rhodey, because he'd never heard Tony make a sound that... vulnerable. "Come on, Tony," he said coaxingly, but Tony gave a tiny but resolute shake of his head. "Why not?" Rhodey asked. Tony opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again quickly, swallowing like he was about to throw up. He settled for shaking his head more firmly, and Rhodey relented with a sigh.
"Okay," he said, "we'll put that off for now, but you know that means I'll have to help you get cleaned up, right?" Taking Tony's whimper for assent (because what else could he do?), Rhodey carefully helped his friend get up, and the bed sheets fell. Trying to ignore the newly uncovered blood and bruises, Rhodey said, "do you want me to get that for you?" but Tony shook his head, so Rhodey helped Tony into the bathroom as he was.
Turning on the light, Rhodey swallowed, taking in the extent of Tony's injuries. Tony was shaking, eyes turned down. Speaking gently, Rhodey said, "Tony, you know I'm here for you, okay? Nothing to be embarrassed about." Tony nodded slowly, still not looking at Rhodey, but Rhodey took that as good enough for the moment. He took a washcloth from the rack by the door. "I'm gonna have to clean you up, Tony, okay? Don't want any infections." Tony nodded again, swallowing visibly.
Rhodey used warm water, and went as slowly and calmly as he could, but Tony still flinched constantly. He left the blood caked around Tony's hole, and the scratches on his inner thighs; Tony started violently when Rhodey got down around the middle of his back, and Rhodey backed off, telling Tony that he'd leave him a fresh washcloth to take care of those areas when he felt up to it. Tony nodded jerkily, still not making eye contact.
As he stood there trying to put his friend back together with Band-Aids and Neosporin, Rhodey began asking hesitant questions: questions like, "Do you know what his name was?" and, "Do you think you could tell the police about it?" He skirted around the question he couldn't get out of his mind, which was, "What happened?" The only information he got was that the guy was Russian, and something Tony mumbled about calling him Tony, which wasn't really much to call the police with.
When Rhodey hesitantly brought up the idea of calling Tony's parents, Tony's voice was stronger and louder than Rhodey had heard it that day. "No!" he snapped, voice breaking on the word. Rhodey dropped it, thinking that Tony could talk to them once they were home. Remembering that thought still makes Rhodey feel a little sick-- Tony never spoke to his parents again.
Eventually, Rhodey stepped back. As promised, he ran a fresh washcloth under warm water for Tony, who nodded distantly, and said, "Okay, I'm gonna go get your clothes and put them outside the door. You just take your time, and I'll be out there if you need me, okay?" Tony nodded again, and Rhodey, hoping he had done enough for his friend, stepped into the bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind him. He put a set of clean clothes just beside the bathroom door, and nearly went to sit on the bed, but he drew up, feeling sick. He settled for bringing a chair in from the living area (and now that he knew, he could see the blood on the carpet, and the wrinkles where the tie must have been twisted around Tony's wrists). He tried to read for a minute or two, but ended up tossing the book aside and burying his face in his hands.
He almost didn't hear it at first, but at some point he realized with a start that Tony was crying. It was a muffled sound, like Tony had a towel across his face to hide the noise, but as Rhodey listened, it grew less and less controlled, until Tony was audibly howling. Rhodey pressed his hands over his ears, eyes screwed shut as though that would somehow help, but he couldn't block out the sound. He felt helpless and sick, wanting to go comfort Tony, but knowing that Tony would refuse.
Rhodey hasn't heard Tony cry like that since, not even when he called Tony, who had just gotten back to his house, after seeing in the newspaper that the Starks had died. That day Tony's voice was rough and a little thick, but he wasn't crying. Rhodey thinks that Tony wishes he would forget hearing him cry even once. Rhodey wishes he could. But, even though he's only heard it once, that sound never seems to leave the back of his mind.
He's always a little thrown, when Tony brings it up. He would have thought Tony would want to just forget it. But Rhodey guesses that it must somehow be what Tony wants, to turn it into some kind of a joke, so he plays along as much as he can, pretending that it was nothing, that they're both fine. He tries as hard as he can to forget. He almost succeeds, too, as the dreams and the guilt get weaker over the years.
And then he sees Ivan Vanko's eyes on Tony-- possessive, wanting, and horribly familiar.
Rhodey's dreams come back that night.
Fandom: Iron Man/Marvel
Rating: M
Disclaimer: If I owned it, the gay would be way more obvious.
Warning: non-con
Summary: "Spring break, 1987," Tony always says. Like it was Rhodey's spring break, that he just told Tony about. Like it happened to Rhodey.
"Speaking of manned or unmanned, you gotta get him to tell you about the time he guessed wrong at spring break. Just remember that, spring break, 1987. That lovely lady you woke up with."
"Don't do that!"
"What was his name?"
"Don't do that."
"Was it lvan?"
"Don't do that. They'll believe it. Don't do that."
Tony Stark and Lt. Colonel James Rhodes, Iron Man
Spring Break
Tony never tells the full story, or even the true story, and Rhodey's fine with that. To be honest, the thing that confuses him is why Tony even brings up the story at all. When he stops to think about it, it's probably some weird way Tony tries to cope with things. It's probably the closest they'll ever come to actually talking about what happened. "Spring break, 1987," Tony always says. Like it was Rhodey's spring break, that he just told Tony about.
Like it happened to Rhodey.
It was actually a few years later than that, just after Tony had graduated from MIT, but Rhodey guesses it was spring break, if you wanted to put it that way. To be more accurate, it was Tony dragging Rhodey halfway across the world with him because he and his dad had gotten into a fight. Rhodey still doesn't know what they fought over-- at the time, Tony was too upset to tell him, and they got the news of the Starks' deaths only a few weeks later. Looking back on it, "My dad's just being an asshole, okay?" was probably the last thing Rhodey ever heard Tony say about his father that wasn't to do with legacy or Stark Industries. They went to Paris, to London, to Tokyo, to Milan, to Munich, back to London... it was a trip being planned by Tony Stark, with all of the excess and exhilaration you'd expect. Rhodey remembers a lot of incredible food and alcohol, and some even more incredible women.
He can't think of the women without guilt twisting his stomach into a knot, though. He actually still feels a bit of that guilt every time Tony tries to set him up with a girl, or tries to point out his stupid stripper flight attendants. Rhodey always pushes that guilt down, tells himself to ignore it, but he can't help but wonder if Tony knows what he's feeling. Maybe Rhodey isn't the only one who gets the feeling that he should have been there.
Like if he'd been there, Tony would have been okay.
They were in some dark and noisy club in London, and Rhodey had already lost count of drinks, when Tony caught his eye and nodded in the direction of some blonde woman with enormous tits stuffed into a tiny dress. She caught Rhodey's eye and grinned, making her way unsteadily towards them. Rhodey was about to turn to Tony, but his friend's hand was already on his shoulder, and Tony was already saying, "Check in in half an hour, decide who's sleeping where?"
She was nice enough. Rhodey can't remember her name now. For some reason that bothers him. It's like... this woman, she's the reason he wasn't there, and he can't even remember her name?
Half an hour later, he excused himself and found Tony again. Tony was in a corner, talking to some guy in a leather jacket. Rhodey's never been particularly interested in men, but even looking back, even knowing what kind of a man he was, he has to admit the guy was damn handsome. He had a couple inches on Tony, and Rhodey remembers noticing, as he drew closer to the two of them, how Tony's head was tipped back to look up at the guy, how enthralled Tony looked. Rhodey had to say Tony's name three times before his friend even noticed he was there and turned to talk to him. The whole time they spoke, the guy's eyes were on Rhodey, uncomfortably possessive, like Rhodey was trying to take something from him. It shook Rhodey a little, but as he and Tony parted ways (he to the woman's place, Tony to their hotel room), he assured himself that Tony knew how to handle himself.
Rhodey still lies awake at night sometimes, wondering how the hell he ever thought that; beating himself up for thinking that an emotionally unstable seventeen-year-old kid could handle himself like that. He tries to tell himself that he was drunk, but that never makes him feel any better.
So Rhodey had a great night, of course, and so did the woman, and then Rhodey woke up with a hangover sometime around noon. He dressed groggily, and brushed his teeth, and he said his awkward goodbye as he left to head back to the hotel.
He'll never forget walking into that hotel room. The lights were off, and Tony's shoes were in the hall, and Rhodey just shook his head as he stepped over them. As he reached the living area, he called Tony's name, on the off chance that the guy was still there. Looking around, he saw a chair tipped over, and a wrinkled tie on the floor, but he didn't understand yet what he was seeing.
A shaky groan from the bedroom was his first clue that something wasn't right. "Tony?" he called, going to the door. He didn't see anyone on the bed, and he was about to turn away, thinking he must have mistaken where the sound was coming from, when he heard it again. "Tony?" he asked, stepping around the bed.
Tony was on the ground between the bed and the wall, blankets tangled around his naked body. His eyes were pained and unfocused, and Rhodey still remembers the dried tears and snot all over his face, crusted with the blood and semen that still turn his stomach, even in memory. Tony's arms were covered in bruises, and so was his chest, but none of them were as dark as the ones on his throat, the shapes of two large, angry hands, thick fingers, two little cuts on Tony's throat where the thumbnails went in, colored with blood.
You'd think Rhodey would have gotten tunnel vision at that point, just focused on Tony himself, focused on his friend being alive, but he didn't. He dropped to his knees next to his friend, shouting Tony's name, feeling Tony's pulse to reassure himself even as Tony shuddered pathetically, but Rhodey was still noticing things-- details that would stay with him. He still remembers the bite marks on Tony's shoulders, less hickeys and more something you'd do to a piece of steak. He remembers the blood caked under Tony's nails, and staining the sheets that covered him. The worst memory, though, the one that occasionally shows up in Rhodey's dreams, and always leaves him awake and nauseous, is how Tony's hand weakly grasped at his shirt, how he choked on Rhodey's name, how his eyes were filled with shame and pain and self-loathing and a million other things Rhodey wouldn't let himself name.
Once Rhodey was sure that Tony wasn't in danger, he started to get up, go for the phone. Tony's hand tightened on his, and Rhodey sighed. "Tony," he said, voice shaking, "we need to get you to a hospital." Tony whimpered then, and that really shot through Rhodey, because he'd never heard Tony make a sound that... vulnerable. "Come on, Tony," he said coaxingly, but Tony gave a tiny but resolute shake of his head. "Why not?" Rhodey asked. Tony opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again quickly, swallowing like he was about to throw up. He settled for shaking his head more firmly, and Rhodey relented with a sigh.
"Okay," he said, "we'll put that off for now, but you know that means I'll have to help you get cleaned up, right?" Taking Tony's whimper for assent (because what else could he do?), Rhodey carefully helped his friend get up, and the bed sheets fell. Trying to ignore the newly uncovered blood and bruises, Rhodey said, "do you want me to get that for you?" but Tony shook his head, so Rhodey helped Tony into the bathroom as he was.
Turning on the light, Rhodey swallowed, taking in the extent of Tony's injuries. Tony was shaking, eyes turned down. Speaking gently, Rhodey said, "Tony, you know I'm here for you, okay? Nothing to be embarrassed about." Tony nodded slowly, still not looking at Rhodey, but Rhodey took that as good enough for the moment. He took a washcloth from the rack by the door. "I'm gonna have to clean you up, Tony, okay? Don't want any infections." Tony nodded again, swallowing visibly.
Rhodey used warm water, and went as slowly and calmly as he could, but Tony still flinched constantly. He left the blood caked around Tony's hole, and the scratches on his inner thighs; Tony started violently when Rhodey got down around the middle of his back, and Rhodey backed off, telling Tony that he'd leave him a fresh washcloth to take care of those areas when he felt up to it. Tony nodded jerkily, still not making eye contact.
As he stood there trying to put his friend back together with Band-Aids and Neosporin, Rhodey began asking hesitant questions: questions like, "Do you know what his name was?" and, "Do you think you could tell the police about it?" He skirted around the question he couldn't get out of his mind, which was, "What happened?" The only information he got was that the guy was Russian, and something Tony mumbled about calling him Tony, which wasn't really much to call the police with.
When Rhodey hesitantly brought up the idea of calling Tony's parents, Tony's voice was stronger and louder than Rhodey had heard it that day. "No!" he snapped, voice breaking on the word. Rhodey dropped it, thinking that Tony could talk to them once they were home. Remembering that thought still makes Rhodey feel a little sick-- Tony never spoke to his parents again.
Eventually, Rhodey stepped back. As promised, he ran a fresh washcloth under warm water for Tony, who nodded distantly, and said, "Okay, I'm gonna go get your clothes and put them outside the door. You just take your time, and I'll be out there if you need me, okay?" Tony nodded again, and Rhodey, hoping he had done enough for his friend, stepped into the bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind him. He put a set of clean clothes just beside the bathroom door, and nearly went to sit on the bed, but he drew up, feeling sick. He settled for bringing a chair in from the living area (and now that he knew, he could see the blood on the carpet, and the wrinkles where the tie must have been twisted around Tony's wrists). He tried to read for a minute or two, but ended up tossing the book aside and burying his face in his hands.
He almost didn't hear it at first, but at some point he realized with a start that Tony was crying. It was a muffled sound, like Tony had a towel across his face to hide the noise, but as Rhodey listened, it grew less and less controlled, until Tony was audibly howling. Rhodey pressed his hands over his ears, eyes screwed shut as though that would somehow help, but he couldn't block out the sound. He felt helpless and sick, wanting to go comfort Tony, but knowing that Tony would refuse.
Rhodey hasn't heard Tony cry like that since, not even when he called Tony, who had just gotten back to his house, after seeing in the newspaper that the Starks had died. That day Tony's voice was rough and a little thick, but he wasn't crying. Rhodey thinks that Tony wishes he would forget hearing him cry even once. Rhodey wishes he could. But, even though he's only heard it once, that sound never seems to leave the back of his mind.
He's always a little thrown, when Tony brings it up. He would have thought Tony would want to just forget it. But Rhodey guesses that it must somehow be what Tony wants, to turn it into some kind of a joke, so he plays along as much as he can, pretending that it was nothing, that they're both fine. He tries as hard as he can to forget. He almost succeeds, too, as the dreams and the guilt get weaker over the years.
And then he sees Ivan Vanko's eyes on Tony-- possessive, wanting, and horribly familiar.
Rhodey's dreams come back that night.