Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12958965.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Avengers_(Marvel)_-_All_Media_Types, The_Avengers_-_Ambiguous_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Steve_Rogers/Tony_Stark, Tony_Stark/Tiberius_Stone
  Character:
      Tony_Stark, Tiberius_Stone, Steve_Rogers, James_"Bucky"_Barnes, Sarah
      Rogers
  Additional Tags:
      endgame_Steve/Tony, Dubious_Consent, Unhealthy_Relationships,
      Homelessness, Alternate_Universe_-_Modern:_No_Powers, Alcohol_Abuse/
      Alcoholism, Underage_Drinking, Underage_Sex, Underage_Drug_Use, Tony
      Stark_Needs_a_Hug, Tony-centric, slow_build_Steve_Rogers/Tony_Stark, I
      mean_slow_build, glacial_ice_flow_slow
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-09 Chapters: 1/? Words: 4481
****** not a piece of teenage wildlife ******
by S_Hylor
Summary
     Sixteen year old Tony Stark has managed to royally screw up his life.
     He can't go home, dropped out of university, and he's even managing
     to slowly destroy the one good thing he's got going for him - his
     relationship with Ty Stone.
     It might seem childish, but isn't this the point where some kind of
     knight in shining armour is supposed to show up and save him?
Notes
     Thanks to quandong_crumble for the beta read, and for cheerleading
     this whole show.
     Yet another WIP, but this is one that I have big plans for. By big
     plans, I mean this is a story idea that has been hashed out and
     rehashed several times over until this, the final, even more angsty
     and terrible than the original idea, iteration of the story.
     Please head the warnings. This is not a happy fluffy story. This is
     terrible.
See the end of the work for more notes
Tony wakes to a rough shake of his shoulder and barely rolls over enough to
vomit to one side and away from himself. At least, he thinks he manages to
avoid covering himself in puke, though he feels sticky all over so it might
have all been a lost cause anyway. His head spins, brain slamming against his
skull in an all too familiar fashion. Everything feels too loud and too bright
and just too… too.
“Gross.” Someone mumbles. Most likely the bastard who woke him up. Tony just
wants to roll over and go back to sleep. He wants to curl up against Ty’s
suspiciously absent body and forget about existing for another few hours. Days.
Weeks. Eternity.
“C’mon, you’ve got to go. The ‘rents will be home soon and I need everyone
gone.” Not-Ty says again, voice unnecessarily loud.
Tony groans, and even that’s too much. “Fuck off.”
It feels like the bastard kicks him in the ribs. “You fuck off. This is my
house. Jesus, my parents are going to kill me.” There’s a pause, another poke
in his ribs. “Shit. Are you even legal?”
Tony groans again. That’s his cue to leave. He squints his eyes open, finding a
somewhat concerned, mostly pissed off face staring down at him. Not someone he
recognises, that wasn’t a good sign. Tony rolls over onto his stomach and waits
for the world to stop spinning before he staggers to his feet, practically
clawing his way up using the person standing over him.
The world sways from one side to the other violently. Tony barely keeps his
stomach in check as he reaches up, pats the bastard who woke him up on the
cheek and offers him a smile. “Great party. Thanks for the invite. See you next
time.”
Before the bastard can recover, Tony staggers off toward the front door,
joining the few other bleary eyed partygoers who are being evicted at an
inhumane hour. He squints against the sun and the hangover, scanning faces to
see if he can spot Ty, but no one looks familiar, so Tony keeps heading across
the front lawn, kicking rubbish about when it gets in his way. The best idea,
the only idea, is to head to Ty’s unit, drink his coffee, take over his bed,
and hope that Ty will let him sleep for a few more hours before he gets horny
and wants attention.
As he gets to the footpath, Tony nearly trips over a guy slumped against the
mailbox, passed out. The guy has a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his
head that look vaguely similar to the sunglasses Tony’s sure he was wearing
yesterday. Even if they aren’t, his head hurts enough that Tony relieves the
passed out guy of the sunglasses he isn’t even using and pushes them onto his
face. The relief, what little there is, is instantaneous. Sighing in
satisfaction, Tony crouches down long enough to check the guy’s pockets,
finding a wallet and an old iPod Nano. A quick scroll through the artists
proves a decent enough music taste, so Tony shoves the iPod in his pocket, and
rifles through the wallet to take the entire $27.85, two condoms and a metro
bus card, before stuffing the wallet back into the guy’s pocket and standing up
again.
He pats the guy on the head. “Thanks, mate. You snooze, you lose.”
The metro card gets him two bus trips and a train ride to within two kilometres
of Ty’s unit. The money gets him a packet of spearmint Extra, a bottle of water
and a burnt tasting black coffee, and a two pack of Panadol with change left
over. The iPod gives him an hour and a half of music while he goes from one bus
to the next. The condoms, well, he figures he can save them for later, since he
doesn’t think he can blow them up like balloons without throwing up in the
process.
The train station is underground and is a welcome relief from the punishing
sunlight outside, though the way every sound is echoed and amplified drives a
hard bargain and almost makes Tony trudge back up the stairs to get away from
it. He really wants to just get to Ty’s place though, and the train is the
easiest and quickest way to do that. He uses the metro card to get past the
turnstile and surveys the overhead schedule boards to find the platform he
wants, weaving his way between people until he gets to the front of the
platform. Pressing the ear-bud headphones back into his ears a little tighter,
trying to cut out the other noise around him, Tony skips a Kate Bush song,
because that is a level of high pitched he doesn’t really want to deal with
right now.
The next song starts off, a slow sort of instrumental build up, full of
guitars, something classically late Seventies or early Eighties. When the
vocals cut in, Tony recognises the iconic voice as David Bowie. Bowie isn’t
someone that Tony listens to very often. He knows the odd song, but Ty usually
tells him off for playing the music he likes. If it’s not in the current Top
40, Ty doesn’t want to hear it.
Sometimes Tony thinks Ty is trying too hard to be cool. Not that it really
matters to Tony, Ty’s the only thing going for him at the moment, so he’ll put
up with his shitty taste in music.
Just out of spite, Tony repeats the Bowie song, tucking it away in his mind to
look up the lyrics later on, and to see if he can find sheet music for it
online, because his fingers are itching for piano keys that he hasn’t touched
in nearly two years. Not since—. Well, just not since.
When the train arrives, Tony pushes his way into the flow of people, getting
carried along with the other commuters until they spill through the doors and
into the train carriage. He manages to snag a seat right down the end, flopping
into it and taking up both seats so no one will think to try and sit next to
him. He really doesn’t feel like dealing with people right now; he overdosed on
them last night at the party. Waking up smelling like stale beer, cheap wine
and vomit is enough to put anyone in a foul mood. That and the fact he woke up
alone, which meant Ty abandoned him at some stage during the night.
Tony spends the train ride trying to block out the world, which he achieves for
a few minutes or so while his eyes are shut. Every time he opens his eyes he
finds himself at the end of some sort of disgusted look from a pram-pushing
mother with a screaming child. Yes, he knows he’s disgusting, but at least he
isn’t the one who regularly shits his pants and screams for attention, so he
doesn’t feel like she or her offspring have any right to judge him. When the
train eventually gets to his stop, Tony feels like his skin is crawling, from
the way everyone keeps side eying him. He can’t get out of there fast enough,
spilling out onto the platform and immediately turning down the street that he
knows he needs to take to Ty’s place.
The walk is mostly up hill, so by the time Tony gets there he’s sweating,
thirsty and feels about ready to pass out. Exercise and hangovers do not mix,
Tony decides as he clomps his way up the stairs outside Ty’s apartment and
bangs on the door. There’s no answer immediately, Tony keeps knocking on the
door, tapping out random patterns, descending into binary code, tapping out
exactly what he thinks of Ty leaving him behind. Then he hears footsteps
approaching and the door in yanked open, causing his fist to collide with empty
air and fall awkwardly back to his side.
“Hail, Caesar.” Tony smiles up at Ty, stretching his lips as far as he can,
because it’s actually so good to see him again. He looks sleep rumpled, dressed
in only a pair of cotton pyjama pants, slung low on his hips, and smells
deliciously warm and clean. Tony has the vague urge to lick Ty’s abs, if he
didn’t feel so shit, he might just have done that. It’s one hell of an
icebreaker, and he knows Ty has a hard time resisting him when sex is on the
table.
Ty frowns down at him, scanning over his appearance and scrunching up his nose.
“Jesus, Tony, you look and smell like shit. Did you crawl through a gutter?”
Tony stuffs his hands in his pockets, tucking his arms in close to his sides,
hunching his shoulders a little and hoping that he can pull off looking
pathetic enough that Ty will let him in. “Only the gutter you left me in last
night. Now, let me in. I need a shower and about fifteen more hours of sleep.”
Ty’s frown morphs into a glare, and he crosses his arms over his chest,
stepping back just enough to let Tony in through the door. “I left you at that
party because you threw a bitch fit when I said it was time to go home.
Apparently you were having too much fun.”
Wracking his brain to try and drag up a memory of the night before, Tony only
gets static. He takes the chance to duck inside though, before Ty can change
his mind. Guilt simmers beneath the surface of his skin. Even if he can’t
remember being a brat at the party and refusing to leave, he’s sure he must
have. It’s not the first time he’s done it. Not the first time he’s woken up
alone in some stranger’s house, not remembering the night before and having to
find his own way back to Ty’s place, because he’d refused to leave with his
boyfriend the night before. Hell, he’s not even sure why Ty puts up with him.
Once Ty’s shut the door behind them, Tony turns around to look at him, smiling
softly, looking up at Ty through his eyelashes. “Sorry, darling. I’ll make it
up to you after I’ve showered.”
Ty smirks, reaches out and cups his hand against Tony’s cheek, thumb dipping
below his jaw to tilt his head up again. “You’d better. Now, go get clean. I’ll
see what I’ve got in the way of hangover food.”
Leaning into the touch, Tony bats his eyes. “Burgers?” He asks hopefully.
Ty shakes his head, nudging Tony away as he pushes him further into the
apartment. “You eat too much crap, you’ll get fat. It’ll do you good to eat
something normal for once.”
Tony fakes a gag behind Ty’s back, then decides that was the worst idea ever,
because his stomach rolls threateningly. Clamping a hand over his mouth, he
beats a hasty path towards the bathroom, but by the time he gets there, the
urge to vomit has subsided. Still, he’s where he wanted to be, and strips off
quickly, turning on the taps to Ty’s shower, finding the right temperature. He
steps into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him, instantly feeling
better. Shampoo and body wash only improve things further, stripping away the
yeasty stench of beer and the sickly sweet smell of wine that have haunted him
all morning.
He’s leaning against the wall, arms propped on the tiles, head resting against
them, letting the water flow down his back, debating whether to get out in
order to find food, coffee and a bed, or to linger longer in the shower and
saviour the feeling of cleanliness, when the bathroom door opens. He waits for
Ty to tell him to hurry up; nothing happens for a few moments, then the shower
screen opens and he feels Ty step into the shower with him, blocking off half
the flow of water. Hands skate down his back and rest on his hips, thumbs
pressing into the cheeks of his arse. Tony fights down the urge to squirm. He’s
not really in the mood, doesn’t really want to be, but if Ty keeps touching him
like that, it won’t take long for things to change.
Besides, he did pretty much promise Ty there was sex on offer.
Lips brush against the back of his neck, Ty’s chest pressing against his back.
“You missed me, last night. Didn’t you?”
Ty’s words caress his spine, making him shudder, and whimper a little. Ty’s
right hand leaves his hip, fingers slipping between his arse cheeks, rubbing
against his hole. Tony whimpers louder, not sure if he means it in protest or
in arousal; there’s heat pooling in his stomach, a sudden rush of blood south
that suggests it’s the latter.
“Always.” He chokes the word out, and god help him, he means it. He wriggles
his hips, pressing back against Ty’s fingers, chasing the pressure. Despite the
pounding in his head and the steady nausea in his stomach, Tony wants it. He
wants Ty’s fingers in him, his cock in him; proof that Ty wants him, cares
about him. Loves him.
Ty’s fingers disappear, as does his left hand, Tony twists his head enough to
see Ty reaching for the lube on the shower rack. He presses his forehead
against his folded arms, stretching up onto his toes to give Ty better access
when his fingers slip back down his crack and two push into him, pressing in
with a slight burn that makes his breath catch in his throat.
Ty’s mouth presses against his shoulder, teeth scraping his skin, his voice is
low, thick with arousal when he speaks. “Relax, babe. You know you want it.”
Tony sucks a breath in through his teeth, pressing back against Ty’s fingers,
feeling them slip deeper, stretching and filling, barely grazing against his
prostate, but enough to make him pant against the tiles. He wriggles his hips
again, inviting, enticing, because Ty’s right, he does want it now, but he’s
still missing the energy to work for it. Ty draws his fingers back out, pushing
back in as he bites at Tony’s shoulder, sucking marks into his skin.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” Ty grates the words out against his neck, fingers pulling
out and pressing back in. “The way you like getting fucked, you shouldn’t be
this tight anymore.”
Tony smirks, even though he knows Ty won’t see it. “It my youthful resilian—”
He breaks off into a yelp as Ty extracts his fingers, only to press back in
sharply with three. He breathes in raggedly, trying to adjust to the extra
intrusion. It takes several thrusts before his body gives, then he hears
himself moan, and feels Ty’s answering smirk against his neck.
Ty’s fingers pull back out of him and Tony can’t help but groan at the loss,
though he doesn’t have to wait long before he feels Ty’s cock pushing into him,
slick, hot and insistent. Ty groans against his shoulder, teeth digging into
his skin again, higher than before, right up against his neck and Tony knows
it’ll show for a few days if he just wears t-shirts. Ty’s hands grab at his
hips, pulling him back onto his cock as he thrusts the whole way in. Tony
struggles to breathe, everything inside him feels momentarily displaced as his
body tries to adjust. Ty pulls back, practically lifting Tony up again, before
slamming back into him. It’s a knife’s edge between pain and pleasure, burning
and hot and addictive, then it’s more pleasure than pain, and Tony can hear Ty
panting and groaning in his ear, swearing under his breath and calling him
names. He knows he’s moaning in response, heat building in his stomach, but
he’s lacking the coordination to drop a hand to his own aching cock. He thinks
he’ll slip and crack his head against the tiles if he tries, barely balanced on
his forearms and toes as Ty slams into him again and again, fingers digging
bruises into his hips.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” Ty groans, teeth catching on Tony’s ear, the edge of
his jaw, right over the pulse thundering beneath his skin. “You love this,
don’t you? You’re such a little cock slut.”
He groans, biting the inside of his cheek, spine tingling at Ty’s words, the
way his voice sounds—so wrecked and wrung out—and he knows he caused those
sounds. That he, and only he, makes Ty sound like this, feel like this. He
clenches down, hears Ty’s breath catch, feels his fingers dig harder into his
skin. Ty pulls him down onto his cock, burying himself to the hilt and keeps
pushing in, holds him there as he comes. Tony feels it, hot, pulsing and slick
inside him. His own arousal burns inside him, he feels his stomach drop, heavy
with it, squirms and presses back on Ty’s cock, trying to chase more feeling,
more friction, something to tip him over the edge so he’ll come untouched.
He’s so close, can feel it burning in him, nearly there, then his stomach
jolts, twists and turns and he vomits against the tiles, acrid and watery, made
up of alcohol, water and coffee. His head spins, the stench of vomit burning
his nose, sapping all the energy and strength from his body. He slumps against
the wall, feels the heat of puke against his chest.
Ty jerks away from him, pulling out of him and shoves him further against the
tiles. “God, you’re gross. Jesus, Tony. That’s fucking rank.”
Tony barely props himself up, only just stops himself from sliding down to the
floor. Come slides out of his arse and runs down his thighs, just adding to the
mess. Fuck, he’s pathetic. “Sorry.”
Ty’s hands grab his shoulders and drag him around until he’s under the water
again. It feels betters, feels cleaner. He opens his mouth to catch water,
swishing it around his teeth and against his cheeks before he spits it out onto
the shower floor. Ty’s hands touch his neck, his face, thumb brushing over his
lips.
“I’ve got to go to class. You can sleep here for a while.” Ty says, his voice
soft, caring, and Tony laps it up, leaning into his touch, chasing the
attention.
“You can’t stay with me?” He knows he sounds pathetic. He feels pathetic. All
he wants is to curl up next to Ty and sleep and feel safe.
Ty shakes his head, stepping back and opening the shower door, reaching for a
towel as he steps out. “No can do, Marc Antony. Some of us have futures that
we’re working towards. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Clean up your mess,
too.”
Tony blinks wetly at the closed shower screen, shivering despite the hot water.
He picks up the loofah up he was using early and pumps more body wash onto it,
scrubbing himself down again before he scrubs the tiles on the wall, washing
his vomit down the drain.
He takes a bucket with him to bed, just in case, and tumbles under the covers
wearing one of Ty’s shirts that’s miles to big for him, but smells enough like
the man that he pretends Ty is still there with him, and not off at university.
The thought of university makes his chest ache. He misses going to class.
Misses learning; but after he left Obadiah’s place, he couldn’t even afford to
make his compulsory student contributions on his tuition and he’d had to drop
out. He should have been graduating this year with Ty. Instead he’s spending
his time drinking too much and sponging off Ty.
He falls asleep feeling like shit, emotionally and physically.
Ty wakes him up with mug of coffee and a gentle smile, kissing his forehead and
brushing his fingers through Tony’s hair. “Hey there, Marc Antony. How was the
beauty sleep?”
Tony practically purrs, chasing the touch and reaching for the coffee, sitting
up just enough so he can gulp it down in several mouthfuls. Ty takes the mug
back from him, setting it on his bedside table as Tony slumps against his
thigh, nuzzling against the fabric of his pants and closing his eyes again,
fully intending to fall back asleep using Ty as a pillow. Fingers massage
against his scalp, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.
Tony reaches up blindly, grabbing a fistful of Ty’s shirt and tugging.
“Cometabed.” He mumbles, rubbing his cheek against Ty’s jean clad thigh.
“Cuddle with me and I’ll give you a blowie later.”
Ty chuckles, warm and deep, rubbing his thumb over the shell of Tony’s ear.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty, up and at ‘em.”
Tony wriggles around in bed until he’s lying on his back, letting go of Ty’s
shirt as a lost cause and flopping his arm over his eyes dramatically. “Don’t
wanna. I want you to get into bed so we can cuddle and make out. When I’m
awake, I’ll give you a blowie and then you owe me food. I’m sure you promised
me food earlier, and you never delivered.” He lifts his arm off of one eye and
squints up at Ty, offering him a cheeky smile and poking his leg. “You’re such
a tease. A food tease.”
Ty catches his finger and shakes his hand gently, his eyes and tone are
incredibly fond. “I was going to offer you food, but you were so cute while you
were asleep that I couldn’t bring myself to wake you.”
“You could feed me now.” Tony opens his mouth expectantly, and really isn’t at
all surprised when Ty laughs, stands up and mimes undoing his fly. He laughs as
well, chest feeling light and warm, pushing himself up until he’s sitting
against the headboard and smacking Ty’s hip playfully. “Tosser, I meant food.”
Ty shakes his head, smirking like some sort of movie star and taking a few
steps back, grabbing something off his desk and dropping it onto the bed. Tony
blinks at the items, noticing that they’re his clothes from earlier, washed and
still warm from the dryer. He looks at Ty, pouting. “You’re serious about this
getting out of bed business, aren’t you?”
Ty shrugs apologetically, leaning down to cup the side of Tony’s face and
kissing the tip of his nose. “I got a call about a half an hour ago. My parents
are in town and want come over for dinner tonight. They’ll be here in about
half an hour.” He strokes Tony’s bottom lip with his thumb, kissing him softly.
“I thought I’d let you sleep as long as possible, but now you really need to
get and, get dressed and leave before they get here.”
Jerking away, Tony scowls up at Ty, feeling his stomach drop and his chest grow
tight. “Kicking me out like some sort of dirty little secret. That’s low,
Stone.”
Ty straightens up, anger flashing across his face before he cups his hand over
his eyes and sucks in a deep breath. “Jesus, Tony.” He drops his hand away,
looking genuinely aggrieved. “They can’t find you here, in my bed, wearing my
clothes. How’s that going to look?”
Scrambling out of bed, Tony starts pulling on his clothes with jerky movements,
still feeling sick, but he’s not sure it’s a hangover anymore. “I don’t know,
Ty. Maybe like I’m your boyfriend. I thought you said they knew you like cock.”
Ty catches his shoulders, jerking him around to face him and stoops down to
look him in the eyes. He squeezes Tony’s shoulders, looking at him pleadingly.
“That’s not the problem, babe, and you know it. You are my boyfriend, but
you’re only sixteen. I’m nearly twenty-two. Don’t you know how much trouble I
could get in if anyone found out?”
Guilt freezes the anger and rejection in Tony’s chest. He sucks in a sharp
breath. Feels like shit. Ty is nothing but good to him, and at any moment he
could get hauled over the coals by the cops just because something stupid like
age. He bites his lip, blinking rapidly. He doesn’t want to think about what
would happen if Ty went to jail. “Sorry.”
Ty leans in, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, wiping his thumbs
under his eyes like he expects to find tears. “Hey now, Marc Antony. Don’t be
sad. It’s just that the world doesn’t understand our love.” He tilts Tony’s
face up and kisses him fiercely, like he never wants to stop.
Tony clings to Ty, he doesn’t want to let go. He feels terrible for being such
a burden on Ty all the time. He loves him so much it hurts sometimes, and he
knows Ty loves him. He just wishes that didn’t matter to the rest of the world.
Ty steps back, strokes his cheek once more before letting go. Tony wobbles
there for a moment before he goes back to getting dressed, pulling on his shoes
that he finds beside the bed as well. When he looks over at Ty again, he’s
sitting on the edge of his desk, wallet in hand and fifty dollars held between
his fingers.
“This is because I didn’t wake you up in time for food.” Ty apologises, holding
out the money towards Tony. “So you can buy something to eat later.”
Tony takes the money, shoving it in his pocket before stepping closer to Ty
again, leaning against him, pressing his face into his shoulder and inhaling
sharply. “Can I come back tomorrow?”
Ty cups the back of his neck, kneading fingers and thumb into his muscles. He
tilts his head and kisses his temple. “I don’t know, babe. I’m not sure how
long my parents will be in town. And I’ve got a lot of work to do on my thesis.
Probably better if you’re not around distracting me.”
Tony bites down on the words he desperately wants to say. The plea of ‘where
else will I go?’ because he knows he can’t keep burdening Ty all the time.
Instead he nods and forces a smile as he steps back, already heading towards
the door. “Okay, Caesar. Guess I’ll catch you around.”
Ty doesn’t move from his desk, just returns the smile and give Tony a salute.
“I’ll call you, Marc Antony. Once I’ve got some work done. We’ll spend all of
this weekend coming together, okay?”
Tony jerks a nod and returns the salute, slipping out the door and heading for
the front door of the apartment. The sun’s already set when he gets outside,
the sky still light with its memory and streetlights already compensating for
it.
It’s only Monday. The weekend seems impossibly far away.
End Notes
     For anyone who is interested, the song that Tony keeps listening to
     is Teenage Wildlife by David Bowie. It is largely responsible for
     this story.
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