, "I'm not going to force you, or anything. I know you only came over to see the robots, and I didn't even really show you a robot, I showed an AI, but he's definitely cool, right? If it helps, I have the best entertainment system in New York, you should at least try it, and really, it's for your own education—"

Steve, mercifully, stopped him from talking with a hand on his wrist and a disarming smile.

"I'd love to."

Steve was bing far too used to waking up kidnapped.

His first response to waking up in an unknown location was to test his restraints, which, considering his hands were in his lap and not tied behind his back, was sort of confusing. He was still unclear on his exact circumstances when something to his left began to snore. He nearly leapt out his skin, but whoever it was just curled closer and began drooling on his shoulder.

Tony.

The messy hair was his first clue, but even in the darkness the man's features were unmistakable to Steve. He really needed to stop sketching Tony so much. On Tony's enormous television, the credits were rolling for Terminator 3—or maybe 4, if the marathon had continued after he'd fallen asleep—and the rest of the night came back to him.

Tony had popped popcorn and they'd settled in, Steve swearing he could only stay for one movie, Tony swearing he wouldn'tplain about the unrealistic parts. They'd both broken their promises, though Steve hadn't minded Tony'splaints. The movies had been interesting, but Tony'smentary much more so. He'd also explained parts Steve hadn't understood, which had been helpful.

There was a bit of a crick in Steve's neck from the way he'd fallen asleep in spite of Tony's excessively plush couch, but with Tony's head resting on his shoulder Steve was loathe to move. He wasfortable. Tony was warm against his side, and if he angled his head right he'd be perfectly fine sleeping right where he was. That was sort of rude though, wasn't it, to just spend the night like that? They'd hit it off, certainly, but they'd really only known each other a week after all. Even if it didn't feel like a week.

He didn't want to wake Tony though. It didn't seem like the man got much sleep. He drank at least three cups of coffee in first period alone, and was always talking about what he'd stayed up working on the night before, some new programming thing or a new experiment for class or something he'd fiddled with until four in the morning for the hell of it. With the amount of caffeine Tony ingested, Steve supposed it was a miracle if he slept at all.

He sat there a moment, contemplating his options, before a thought urred to him.

"JARVIS? Can you hear me if I whisper?"

"Certainly." The AI's tone was equally muted, something Steve was grateful for. Tony didn't seem to be particularly a light sleeper if the snoring was any indication, but better safe than sorry. "Is there something I might assist you with, Mr. Robinson?"

"Tony doesn't get much sleep, does he?" Steve mused.

"Sir is not particularly well known for keeping a normal schedule."

"I didn't think so." Steve chuckled. "I should probably let him sleep, then. Do you think Tony would mind if I stayed? I might wake him if I move."

"I can assure you that you are more than wee to stay, Mr. Robinson."

"Thank you. And just Steve is fine, JARVIS." Steve smiled in the general direction of the ceiling. He was unsure if JARVIS could "see" him, or if he was even capable of appreciating the gesture of a smile, but decided it was good manners anyway.

"As you please."

"Tony?"

"Mmph. Sleeping. Go 'way."

"Um, Tony, we have class. In less than an hour."

"What?" Tony cracked one eye open warily. Someone was leaning over him on the couch; sunny blonde hair, curious blue eyes, and tits bigger than his last underwear model one-nighter. Oh, hey, it was Steve. "Why are you in my apartment? Am I hallucinating again?"

"No." Steve seemed to be trying to hide a smile. "We fell asleep watching movies. I didn't want to wake you, and JARVIS said it was alright if I stayed…I hope you don't mind?"

"Like I care." Tony snorted, rolling over and summoning the energy to push himself off the couch. "Mi casa es su casa. Seriously, you can crash here whenever, you're goodpany and I've got plenty of space. We should take the bed next time though, I'm too fucking old to be sleeping on the couch."

"Oh. Um." Tony glanced up at Steve in time to watch his face go a very interesting shade of pink. "Okay."

Oh. He'd said 'we', hadn't he? Fuck mornings.

"My bad, I meant to say I, as in, I should take the bed next time. You can take the couch if you want. Or the bed, whatever works for you, it's big enough for two and god knows I don't give a fuck. How about you just do whatever you want and ignore my general lack of coherency, okay? Okay. Good plan. Is it just me, or is it disgustingly early right now? Jesus fuck. Where the hell is my coffee, JARVIS?"

Steve was smiling now, seemingly amused by his rambling, so Tony figured he'd managed to sessfully divert the awkward train.

"As always, sir, I must remind you that as you have not provided me with a body, you are required to leave your current location and seek it yourself."

"Oh, I can make you some." Steve stood up, making towards his kitchen. Tony was about to ask Steve to marry him when JARVIS rudely interrupted.

"Indulge him at your own peril, Mr. Robinson; if brought his coffee sir is not likely to leave the couch."

"Oh fuck you, you stuck-up twat." Tony threw a pillow at the ceiling petulantly. Steve graciously caught it before it fell back and hit him in the face.

"I have to admit I see his logic." Steve chuckled. "And I told you to call me Steve, JARVIS."

"My apologies, Steve."

"Great, you're already teaming up on me. First name basis and everything." Tony rolled over again, burying his face in the couch. "Fucking fantastic."

"Tony, we now have less than forty-five minutes to get to class—"

"Wow, look at me, I'm up early today—"

"This is early?" Steve blinked in surprise.

"Sir did numerous experiments and found he only requires an average of 17.23 minutes to be prepared. With the addition of a 4.41 minute car ride, he finds waking up a half hour before class suitable."

"You're something else, Tony." Steve shook his head with a smile. Then, with an interested quirk of his head. "Why's he English?"

"Who, JARVIS?" Tony opened his mouth to offer one of the standard, easy answers he always gave. 'It was funny', 'you know me and my kinks', 'so was the guy I stole him from', anything to deflect. Before he realized it, the truth fell out instead. "The real Jarvis was."

"Real?"

Tony resisted the urge to rub a hand over his face. God damn it. It was too fucking early for this shit. Well, in for a penny…he rolled over and sat up with a tired sigh.

"As I'm sure you've pieced together, my family was kind of rich, to put it mildly. We had a butler. Jarvis. He, uh." Tony cleared his throat. "Died. A while ago. I know it sounds stupid, poor little rich boy with a sob story about his butler, but, um. He meant a lot to me. Basically raised me when dear old dad didn't want to, so. When I perfected the coding for a wicked smart AI, I named it JARVIS, told everyone it stood for 'Just Another Rather Very Intelligent System', and gave him an English ent like the original Jarvis had. So to answer your question, it's just a joke. A stupid one. On myself."

Tony was making a very concentrated effort not to make eye contact with Steve at the moment, but that sort of failed when Steve sat down on the couch next to him, putting a hand on Tony's arm.

"I'm sorry, Tony."

It should be illegal to look that fucking sincere.

"Right, well." Tony cleared his throat again. "Like I said. Long time ago, not really an open wound or anything."

"I know." Steve pulled him into a sideways sort of hug. Tony froze. "But you shouldn't call it a 'rich boy sob story', either. You lost someone you cared about. That's awful no matter what you've got in your checking ount."

"Um."

Tony was, admittedly, flustered. He tried to remember the last time he'd gotten a hug that wasn't a precursor to sex. He was more than a little humiliated toe up blank. He was a touchy person, too—handshakes, pats on the back, grabbing someone's arm or hand. It wasn't like he was bereft of human contact, or anything. Really.

He just couldn't fucking remember.

"Sorry." Steve pulled away with a flustered look of his own. "I didn't mean to invade your space. I'm a bit of a hugger, Bucky alwaysplained—"

It was Steve's turn to look traumatized.

"Who's Bucky?" Fuck, bad question, if the look on Steve's face was anything to go by. Jesus, was he having a panic attack? "Nevermind, et I asked, it's early, I run my mouth a lot, feel free to ignore any and all of what I say, seriously, please stop looking like that, you shouldn't have to look like that, uh, um, here."

Tony hugged him.

It was awkward and an impulse and the only thing he could think of. Instead of flinching and freezing up like Tony had, Steve just melted into the hug, slumping forward to let his forehead rest on Tony's shoulder. He tried not to think about how warm Steve's arms were around him, how unfairlyfortable Steve was, or wonder why he didn't do this more often. Like maybe always.

"So." Tony patted Steve on the back once, abruptly breaking the hug to stand. "I'm gonna go shower. If I'm quick I'm sure we can both fit one in. Feel free to dig through my closet in the meantime, see if anything fits you, otherwise you're kind of stuck with what you got. Rifle through the bathroom if you want too, you're wee to my brush or whatever, and I know I've got a spare toothbrush somewhere. Cool? Cool."

Tony made to disappear into the bathroom before Steve could say anything else, but Steve caught his wrist.

"Thank you. For not asking."

"Yeah. Anytime." Tony tried not to wince at how stupid he sounded, and quickly made his exit.

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