homemeless | 002 - The Stargazing Meme

002 - The Stargazing Meme

Vega, Altair and Deneb, The Summer Triangle and the Milky way

the stargazing meme

oo1. comment with your characters
make sure to put names, series, & preferences somewhere!
you can use < ! > sans the spaces to make the comment "blank"
oo2. reply to others in character
oo3. use the rng and enter 1-10
oo4. play out what happens—anything goes!
oo5. profit? oh yeah!

prompts

one → meteor shower you just saw a falling star! and another! make a wish!
two → aliens what was that? was that really? omg no way a ufo!
three → lunar eclipse you've been sitting out for hours, waiting for this. it's so cool!
four → comet does it move fast or slow? either way, it's amazing.
five → full moon the moon is so huge! just don't look too long, it's really bright too.
six → star dust anything can happen in space. make up your own plot!
seven → solar eclipse this might be happening in the middle of the day!
eight → planet sighting is that a new star? nope, just a neighbor in the solar system!
nine → constellations do you know the stories behind these odd patterns?
ten → deep space normal stargazing isn't that much fun. you got a telescope!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Over the years, Tony had changed somewhat. He’d grown more mature, he’d developed a laundry list of psychological problems, and he’d learned, through fits and starts, how to be a better person. But some things hadn’t changed and never would. One of those things was that he always performed better in front of an audience.

Like this, Justin wasn’t simply an audience. He was a captive, willing audience, and Tony wanted to give him a show worthy of that position. Of course, he knew that he couldn’t see him as well as he might have had he his contacts in or his glasses on. But he could do his best to compensate for it, by being more vocal, by being more obvious in his reactions.

The pace he set for himself was brutally fast, designed to get him off as quickly as possible. He was too impatient for release, too intent on ensuring that Justin didn’t have to wait to get what he wanted. He moaned as he worked himself over, fought against the instinct to curl forward and kept himself angled back so that Justin could see, even if it was hazy, the way he hand pumped his cock.

“You’re going to—to make me want…” He never could keep his mouth shut. Not even now, when each inhale was edged in a quiet sound of impatient anticipation. “Gonna have to do that now. The Louvre. Show them—show them real art.”

He could see it in his mind’s eye, fucking Justin against some centuries’ old masterpiece until his body was covered in sweat and spunk in a manner so chaotic it could only be perfect. That mental image, coupled with the real one before him and the speed of his hand, made short work of the show, and with a low groan he came, remembering at the last minute to angle his dick down so that, as requested, long strings of come liberally decorated Justin’s cock.

Justin would imagine that the Louvre has a good amount of security cameras placed throughout every part of the building. He wasn't sure any amount of money could get them to turn them off for a few hours' private visit from two billionaires, because people at museums always came across as the type to defend their business to the death. A plethora or priceless works of art were in it, works that had almost been destroyed before, perhaps multiple times, and they did their best to keep them restored properly and available to the public who might like to see them. He could just imagine Vermeer's The Astronomer across the way from them as Tony took him up against a wall, Justin's legs wrapped around him like a vice that refused to give up its grip. The Mona Lisa would have something else to smile about that day.

It wasn't gentlemanly or proper, it was something they might not be able to do at all, but the idea was something he'd definitely be thinking about later. He'd visit their website whenever they got back to society, see if there was a virtual tour he could take...

Even though thoughts of art museums had come to mind, his gaze was transfixed on Tony's hand working over his cock. It was different from that little home video he'd gotten in so much as he could tell the way he went about it was to get himself off as quickly as possible. If that was what he wanted, Justin didn't mind at all, and the grip in his hair eased up so he could scratching over his scalp gently, his breathing slow and deep.

He wasn't going to make Tony do all the work; he angled himself just so and Justin pushed his hips so that his groin would take every bit of Tony's spunk it possibly could. His hand stayed in his hair only a moment longer, and then he took a hold of himself to feel the slickness over his skin and let the back of his hand catch what little was left, intent on licking off every bit that graced his hand when he heard Tony's breathing get back under control. Give him a moment to get it together before he let him catch sight of Justin licking his hand like it was covered in the sweetest sugar he'd ever come across.

"That's it," he murmured, parroting Tony's words from what? Almost two weeks before they'd come to Kentucky? "Just like that."

Edited 2013-05-01 11:29 (UTC)

There was no security system on the planet that Tony couldn’t hack into if he wanted to do it. And if he brought JARVIS onto the project, which was admittedly cheating, then nothing could stand before the combined weight of their programming genius. No matter how high-tech the Louvre’s system was, he could crack it and override it. It would be a foolish thing to do, an illegal thing to do, all for the sake of sex, but Tony had done worse things for far less reason many times in his life. And sex with Justin, especially mildly kinky, risqué sex in a public place, seemed like a pretty good excuse to break the law.

After all, it would be completely harmless. It wasn’t like they’d steal or destroy anything.

His orgasm was pretty intense in its own right, but there was something about watching Justin so visibly enjoy what was happening that it sent a surprisingly strong aftershock through him. Enough to make him moan again and tug another tiny drop from his cock before the sensitivity of his skin forced him to let go. He was breathing heavily, struggling to get enough air, but his eyes never left Justin’s hand as it smeared his semen over his skin and Jesus, when he brought it to his mouth, Tony had a surreal second’s worth of wondering if he was actually going to come again.

“Well,” he said once he could speak without gasping for breath, aiming for nonchalance and failing miserably. “I think I like camping.”

Six words probably shouldn't make him laugh so much, but he definitely does laugh quite a bit. Tony liked smores, during which there had been impromptu blow jobs. Now that they'd moved into the tent and Justin had essentially thrown himself at him, Tony liked camping, too. It made him wonder what else Tony would find himself liking if Justin interspersed it with various sexual acts. What next, fishing in a boat big enough so that one of them could be on their knees and in between a pair of legs and no passerby would think it suspicious? Was he going to try and teach Tony how to play the very basics of golf and end up extremely grateful he'd booked a whole course for the day so that no one was around to see when things went from teaching to teasing to sex? Should he try it with movies?

Not that Cars was an option. Justin really didn't want Tony to start associating Owen Wilson with the things his lover was willing to do to him at the drop of a hat. That was—who would want that?

"Camping, huh?" Even though his hand wasn't totally clean, he lifted it to the back of Tony's neck to pull him down just so as he lifted himself to kiss him. It wasn't long or drawn out, wasn't the start to Passion Play In The Wilderness Act III. It was just a few short, pleased kisses that were a bit difficult to achieve, if only because he couldn't break his smile for too long. "Camping's cool. I think, though, that camping with you is a bit better than I ever realized camping could be with...anyone."

It had taken a moment to realize it, but the weather wasn't just cool any more. It was gradually getting cold, actually, and as the sweat around his hairline went from wet to chilly, he recognized that neither of them were really covered at all, and that that needed to rectified.

"C'mere. It's supposed to be as low as forty-four tonight. Figured with the two of us and the thickest sleeping bags I could find, we'd be okay. Let's get some cover going."

There were few things Tony would find that he didn’t like if Justin accompanied the experiencing of them with throwing himself at him. But of course, there were few things that he would find unpleasant if he was with Justin at the time. Watching a football game, shopping, cooking, doing the laundry; all of these ordinarily aggravating and unsavory activities would be vastly improved upon if they were done with him. In the case of shopping and cooking, that had already been proven to be true.

Camping was fun. At least, camping with Justin was fun and not just because sex was involved. That was nice. It was great. But it was like a spectacular bonus to an already wonderful time.

Moving wasn’t something he wanted to do. He was fairly comfortable, he was trading kisses with Justin, and he was happily tangled up with him. Pulling away, letting air between them, allowing the body heat they’d generated between each other to disperse, seemed like far too much effort to undertake. But Justin had a point.

“Forty-four, huh?” His nose wrinkled and he grumbled an unintelligible, whiny noise under his breath, but finally he sighed and extricated himself so they could resituate themselves inside the sleeping bags. “Okay, let’s do this.”

If Tony had his way, it would be the quickest readjustment ever, and once they were settled, he’d be wrapped around Justin so completely that even if the temperature dropped further, they wouldn’t be cold.

If Tony wanted to try to improve household chores with Justin in tow, he wouldn't mind it in the least. There could be little, hmm, rewards with each job well done—a load of wash done and dried and folded, Justin would turn the machine back on and have Tony sit atop the furiously vibrating thing after he'd gotten his pants down and could use his mouth to make sure that, yes, the laundry seemed like a more interesting, less tedious thing to do than it had before. Unloading dishes could result in dirtied counters that needed cleaning, and after cleaning could be dirtied all over again. Justin would find a way to make it happen, if Tony really wanted it. And even if he didn't say as much, the idea of dirtying counters was never a bad one.

(Unless said counters were already dirty, sticky, and grossly unclean. But other than that...)

The moment Tony got down, Justin rolled to press himself fully against him, unconcerned about the fact of the matter that he was a bit sticky, because as far s he knew? Tony hardly minded it in the least. Besides, they had to keep warm (really, the bags and blanket he'd brought would be more than enough, but he'd use any excuse he could)! He pressed a kiss just beneath his jaw before he pulled everything up to cover them and nestled against his chest in the face of a bright blue glow. It may have bothered someone else, but Justin was more than used it to by this point and had no issue with sleeping near it. He didn't see that change any time soon, either.

"If you get cold, you know where your socks are. And mine, if you're super cold."

If there's anything more to say, he's sure Tony will say it. Maybe they'll have a little conversation before they drift off; maybe they'll just go quiet in the arms of each other and be contented until they inevitably succumb to sleep. Either way, Justin's hardly expecting to be awoken to the sound of the flap being unzipped while Tony is clearly still against him. It's strange enough, but when it's followed by the sound of his father's voice asking:

"You boys didn't sleep naked all night, did you? You know there's bears and chainsaw-wielding psychopaths in abundance. Tell me you had some sense and left your shoes on."

During the night, they'd apparently rolled, and instead of burrowing his face into Tony's chest, Justin burrowed it in between his shoulder blades and let out something that was part groan and part laugh the moment the flap was pulled back and the sunlight flooded in without any mercy.

He didn’t expect to sleep very well in the tent. Even with the sleeping bags to act as a cushion, the ground was still uneven and lumpy. There wasn’t a forty-four thousand dollar mattress to offset it and make sleeping as easy here as it was at home. But Tony wasn’t counting on the power of a warm, Justin-filled sleeping bag.

Instead of tossing and turning all night, he fell asleep in the comfortable circle of Justin’s arms and didn’t wake up until an unfamiliar voice was talking about bears and psychopaths. It jolted him out of unconsciousness, and for an instant, he was thoroughly confused. The strange man’s voice. The odd, shaking weight on his back.

It wasn’t until he’d woken up a little further that he realized the man was Justin’s father, there were no unforeseen forest dwelling dangers, they were not under attack, and the low level earthquake was actually Justin laughing against him. He kept his silence for a moment, head buried in his pillow, but curiosity won out against the nonsensical attempt to be silent in the hopes that Justin’s father hadn’t seen him and would continue not to see him, a la a T-Rex from Jurassic Park.

“Justin,” he mumbled into the pillow. “Is your dad here or am I still dreaming?”

He may not be completely awake, but the sun trying to worm underneath his eyelids and the sound of his father's voice talking about them being naked was doing wonders for anything that would otherwise keep him groggy. Had he been at 100% (which he was getting to quickly), he would have asked why Tony would be dreaming of his dad. But he wasn't at 100%, his brain wasn't quite as quick as usual, and so it didn't come out.

At least, not from Justin.

"Did you hear that, Justin? Your boyfriend's been having dreams about me."

The part groan, part laugh low level earthquake intensified, and then Justin accepted he had to get up. It was a slow process, made difficult by the fact of the matter that it was still quite cool out, and he almost fell back into their makeshift bed when he got the first wave of cold air against his chest. The sunlight coming down, that would warm them up. And, besides—

"What time is it?"

The answer, a short but not impolite Just after nine, makes him feel a little better. They had a good sleep, at least. Or, well, Justin's was good. He couldn't feel any knots in his back or neck that would require some deep tissue massage work later.

But then again, he'd spent two years on a prison mattress.

"You sleep okay?" he manages, quiet in case his dad wants to take it and run with it elsewhere. And even though he's still slightly groggy, he's pulling on his clothes as quickly as he can, leaving his glasses until after he's gotten his top on.

It was far, far too early in the morning to try to have a battle of wit with Justin’s father. Not that Tony wasn’t up to it, but he was still trying to make a good impression and saying something horribly rude or inappropriate wouldn’t lend itself to good impressions. Instead of coming up with a retort, he just grumbled unintelligibly and buried his face back in his pillow, recognizing that he was laying on his stomach and hoping to hell that his ass wasn’t out and on display for the world to see.

He grumbled again when Justin started to get up, taking his warmth with him and letting the cold air in around his naked skin. It was certainly not like California mornings, with the sun streaming warm rays of light in through the huge glass windows of his bedroom.

“Really? We’re getting up now?” Sighing, he rolled over, grabbing at the edge of the sleeping bag to maintain some illusion of modesty if Justin’s dad was watching them.

“I slept—Must’ve been great because I don’t remember waking up. How about you? No problems?” He looked around, blinking himself into alertness as he tried to find his clothes. “You see my shirt anywhere?”

Wilbur Edward Hammer—Willy and Eddy as a child, Ed as a teenager, Edward as an adult, Weddy to his wife, Dad to Justin—was most certainly not standing and staring to await the chance to glimpse Tony's ass. As far as he was concerned, Tony's ass was Justin's ass. Not in the way that they shared one sole ass or that they had the same ass in make and appearance (he hadn't taken the time to stare at either ass in question), but because he was rather convinced that this "thing" between the two of them was really quite serious. Waking them up was one them, joking about being chased down by bears or chainsaw-wielding psychopaths (or chainsaw-wielding bears, if he wanted to get even more absurd) was about as far as he was willing to go. He'd come up to fetch the cooler and other things he didn't feel the two of them could manage very well on their own, if only because he'd figured they would probably take a while to get their asses (which he had no interest in, ever) in gear. That and...

"I knew it!" came from outside the tent, just as Justin had gotten his top on and tossed Tony's his way, pulling out his glasses from the case, "Justin, you took the wrong bottle with you. You left your mother and I with that sparkling grape juice and took the wine for yourself, did you know that?"

It took Justin a split second to think back. Did he know that? No, he didn't. Could it come across as him having been of the mindset to break Tony's sobriety? Maybe. But it had been a simple error, considering both bottles looked almost the same. Hell, Justin had just assumed when they'd gone into the tent for the night that it was fine to leave it as it was. Sure, the ice would melt (slowly, though, considering the weather) and turn to water that had to be dumped out (which he could hear happening that very instant), but it could always be refrigerated again and none the worse for the wear. It wasn't milk, after all.

"No, I didn't know," came from him after he narrowed his eyes, shaking off the worry that Tony might take it the wrong way. He was a brilliant man who could see things other people might never see, but Justin didn't think him overly paranoid. Everyone made mistakes; Tony had admitted he did it, too. There was no ground to stand on with the idea that Justin had meant anything terrible by it. "Is that why you came? Just to get the cooler?"

There was a grunt and no more response, so Justin simply leaned over to look outside the opened (and bright, Goddamn that sunlight) flap, lips pursed as he looked about...and found only the figure of his father retreating with said cooler and whistling a tune that took Justin a moment to realize and another moment to roll his eyes damn near out of his head and laugh quietly as he pulled back and looked over at his amore with a look that couldn't be anything other than apologetic.

"You're not scarred now, are you? Traumatized for life? Anything?"

After Justin tossed him his shirt, Tony shook it out, made sure it was right-side out, and slipped it on. He still wasn’t decent, he couldn’t walk out of the tent and help Wilbur with whatever he’d come to get, but at least he didn’t feel quite so exposed and the arc reactor wasn’t on display anymore. It wasn’t that he thought Justin’s parents cared about the thing, he didn’t, he just wasn’t accustomed to anyone else looking at it.

He heard Wilbur mention the white wine-grape juice SNAFU as he rooted around for his underwear. That Justin might have swapped them out on purpose was a consideration that never crossed his mind. He certainly wasn’t suspicious that he was trying to sabotage his months of sobriety. Shit happened. Depending on the manufacturer, the bottles could look similar, especially to someone just reaching into the fridge to grab one prior to leaving on a trip. So Justin had gotten the wrong one. Tony wasn’t such a huge alcoholic that simply knowing that there was alcohol in the vicinity would destroy his determination to be sober. Justin could have drunk the whole thing in front of him, it wouldn’t have mattered.

By the time he’d pulled himself back into the tent, Tony had found the underwear, put them on, and was in the process of pulling his jeans up his legs. He caught sight of Justin’s expression and grinned at him, not nearly as put out as someone else in the same circumstances might have been. Tony didn’t have any family but the one he’d made and picked up along the way. There would never be a well-meaning father interrupting his sleep. He didn’t mind and he wasn’t going to pretend that he did.

“That depends. If I say that I’m scarred for life, does that mean I can get a sympathy kiss out of you? Because in that case, yes. Completely scarred. I’m an emotional cripple for the rest of my days.”

As far as Justin was concerned, if Tony was going to stay sober, Justin wasn't going to drink at all. He didn't want to be the demon on his shoulder. He didn't want Tony to kiss him and taste rum or something fruity and crave it, didn't want to have the smell of alcohol lingering in his breath after dinner, and he hadn't had any at all since their trip to Miami. He wasn't missing out on a vital part of life by abstaining. He didn't drink much in the first place, and if he was going to be with Tony, he didn't find the idea of never touching alcohol again depressing or burdensome. It was a choice he'd made on his own. If Tony wanted a few drinks with dinner, he wouldn't hold it against him, and he'd drink with him. But even that was a slippery slope, wasn't it?

The word cripple stuck out like a sore thumb, reminded him of pandas and Belize and something like an argument that wasn't really an argument. But he didn't let any hesitation show, and he certainly wasn't going to say anything about it.

"A sympathy kiss?" He watched him carefully for a moment before sliding his hand over his arm to take a hold of his neck, leaned forward, and kissed him gently on the forehead. "There, there. We'll get you a new toy to play with on the trip back to California, and everything will be better. How's that?"

Because Justin hadn't brushed his teeth, and although he didn't have issues when Tony hadn't...well, who wanted to suck an uncleaned tongue, right?

“New toy, huh?” His smirk’s probably a little sleepy, he’s not quite at full alertness yet, but he’s getting there. “That’s—You know, it’s probably too early for my mind to go this far down into the gutter this fast, but there it is.”

It’s not as bad as he’s making it sound. Justin’s comment didn’t automatically bring to mind the entire contents of a sex shop. But Tony is awake enough to make the joke and pretend like it had. Truthfully, there are a variety of things that qualify as toys to him. Circuit boards, model cars, cellular phones, tablets, five dollar wooden mind teaser puzzles; they’re all things he can tinker with for a short span of time.

Having gotten his kiss, he finishes putting on his pants and starts digging around for his socks. He finds one and glances up at Justin as he slips it over his foot. “So what’s on the agenda for today? Pack up and head back? Go hiking or something?”

Aside from sitting around a campfire, Tony’s limited exposure to camping tells him that there are about three different activities one does in the daylight hours: hike, fish, and collect firewood. Or maybe get chased by chainsaw-wielding psychopath bears.

"Uh."

Was Tony expecting that? Was he expecting playing Lewis and Clark (or was it Lois and Clark?) all day long, that Justin knew which berries were acceptable eating, which were poisonous entirely, and which would just give a person diarrhea? Because that was all stuff he'd have to think about for a while, try to remember, and eventually decide it wasn't worth it. A red berry could look like another red berry, and he hadn't studied them like he would have if he knew that's what Tony was considering. Maybe that was his fault, like not having brushed up on his constellations.

Though, considering what happened when they'd talked about them last, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Eating berries that made them puke up their stomachs and shit out their colons? Not so potentially sexy.

"I. Didn't have that idea in my head, no. I was just planning on going back to Mom and Dad's and taking a shower. Getting something to eat. Seeing which DVDs were in which cases and thinking about telling him she was doing it on purpose. I didn't really have anything planned out, no. Why, did you want to...do that?"

Shit. Shit. Justin wasn't at all prepared, and quick thinking led him to:

"After a shower, though. I feel kind of gross. The shower's big enough for both of us, if you'd like to save time?"

There were a few things that Justin had noticed distracted Tony thoroughly. Science. Certain types of food. Justin naked. It was odd, that last one, because he wasn't sure how he felt about it. But if it was something he could default to in order to get out of staring at moss and trying to think up the scientific name—that is: looking like a Goddamn idiot, even though they'd discussed that being a genius didn't mean he knew everything under the sun—while inwardly thinking about how awful an idea it was and was that a bear? That couldn't be a bear.

A cougar? Oh, there weren't cougars around any more? Then what the hell was that? No. Bad idea. Camping was smores and tents and campfires. Justin wasn't about to play Nature Boy and salute and talk about Scout's honor. He was going to play the Natural and Naked card as long as he possibly could.

To be perfectly honest, heading back to the house and getting a shower sounded like a wonderful idea. Divine. And puttering around the house, with its temperature control and its comfortable chairs, sounded fantastic. Tony didn’t have anything against the outdoors. In small, controlled doses he even liked it. Last night was great; so much so that he legitimately wanted to do it again sometime.

But hiking or fishing? Collecting twigs and rocks and possibly malaria from mutated albino winter mosquitoes didn’t sound like a particularly good time to him. Even if there weren’t any such things as mutated albino winter mosquitoes.

“Yeah, no, I don’t want to…” With his socks on, Tony had turned to start trying to roll up the sleeping bag, but he paused now to make a dismissive gesture. “A shower sounds great. It sounds perfect, actually. Even before you mentioned the two-for-one deal. Let’s do that. All of it except coming back out and doing mountain man, bear wrestling type things. I’m really not—I’m okay with hanging around the house.”

Point made, he hoped, he turned his attention back to the sleeping back, only to pause again to glance up at him. “I had fun. Don’t think I didn’t. I really did enjoy this. But it’s not, we don’t have to do anything more than what we want to do, you know? The Hammer-Stark camping protocol makes me happy enough.”

The sigh of relief is physical, even though Justin hadn't meant it to be. An odd knot of tension had apparently developed between his shoulders, and with that sigh it dispersed, shoulders slouching somewhat. No stress at having to recall things from thirty years ago, no winter bugs carrying diseases that could kill, no bees. No cat-like creatures that couldn't be cougars because cougars weren't in the area, so clearly they were some sort of hallucination because Justin was just waiting to turn around the leafy green corner to find something that he couldn't handle.

If there was one thing Justin didn't like, it was being a situation he couldn't maneuver himself around, slide into like an eel, or come out of better than he was before. True, sometimes he worked on a project that got the better of his patience, but he could always step back for a little while and figure it out later. Or, usually. There were some things he hadn't ever really understood, and that...

"Good, because I am not equipped for a day in the great outdoors. I'm just not." There was nothing wrong with admitting he couldn't do something. Really. And, apparently, Tony hadn't been wanting that, so didn't it just work out well for both of them? "I can handle a campfire, but then it's straight back home. So. You know. Bribe you with a shower to make sure you don't want to convince me otherwise."

Leaning forward, he placed a quick kiss to lips he'd once only believed existed to brag and toss barbs in public (and, obviously, spend nights doing other things, though Justin hadn't thought about that much before) before pulling back with a grin as he moved to finish dressing himself.

"Glad it worked."

“What, do you think I look like I’m equipped to handle a day in the great outdoors?” Tony looked at him in disbelief, then dissolved into chuckles at the absurdity of the notion.

If anything, he looked like a nerdy tech guy who wouldn’t know what to do the second he stepped out of his cell phone’s range of reception and found himself cut off from the internet. Granted, it was a case of looks being deceiving. Tony wouldn’t step out of the range of his phone. It was a phone he’d designed and built. It was connected to his own personal network, which was fed by a satellite he’d made about six years ago. There wasn’t anywhere in the world that wouldn’t be able to get a signal.

Of course, he wasn’t worried about getting on in the first place. As based in technology as his life was, Tony liked to go off the grid. It gave him some peace and quiet. He just didn’t know what to do when his source of entertainment was a couple hundred acres of woods.

He snorted. “I’m not. At all. But,” he pointed a finger at Justin. “Even though bribing me with the shower wasn’t necessary, I still want it. So no backing out. I expect to see your hot ass in the shower with me when we get back."

Fully dressed, he looks around for a moment before snatching up Tony's shoes and unlacing the knots. They really didn't have time to worry about it the night before, he knew, but some strange part of him had the urge to—

"Here, come here."

The sleeping bag could wait. Putting the tent up could wait. Hell, they could probably spend the rest of the day out here and not have anything to worry about. His dad probably just wanted what was in the cooler, nothing more. Well, besides making his presence known. Other than that, he doubted it was some signal to come back to the house and get ready and dressed by lunch time. They were grown men, after all; they didn't have a schedule and they didn't have to leave until they were ready. Knowing all of that was good and well, but since he'd mentioned showering and thought of something other than the lumpy ground, he'd gotten the idea in his head that they really should head back.

Tony just needed to put his shoes on first.

He took a moment to undo the laces before he moved in for it, taking a hold of one socked foot and wriggling the shoe on before tying them up as though he'd done it a thousand times before. He hadn't tied many people's shoes in the past, but he thought he could manage it well enough.

"They like you. My parents." Tying shoes was as good as anything to keep his hands occupied, wasn't it? And to make it look like his focus wasn't wholly on trying to keep himself from stuttering like a damn idiot. "I was worried that, that the reality of you being with me would upset them. Because of the, uhm," Very eloquent "because you're a man. But apparently, apparently that's no problem. So, you know, if you are totally serious about...us...then, uhm. And if you want to, I only really come to their place four times a year, like I said. If you're, if you're cool with it and you're free then, we could, we could, we could just come together. From now on. If you want."

As ordinary as the action was, Tony couldn’t help feeling that there was something oddly intimate about Justin putting his shoes on for him. He attributed it to the past they shared and how, three years ago, there was no way either one of them would be doing this. It was on the tip of his tongue to make a Cinderella crack, but there was an inexplicable tightness in his chest and in his throat that made it too difficult to get the words out. Instead, he held his tongue and just watched, and when he started talking, he kept his silence even longer so that he could hear what he had to say.

That too got to him, wormed its way inside of him and choked him up. Justin’s family was normal, real, everything his own never had been and everything he had always wanted. Justin wasn’t just giving him the opportunity to do something on the holidays. He was giving him a family.

“Totally serious is probably an understatement,” he said after a moment spent swallowing the lump in his throat. “I don’t think that there are actually words that wouldn’t be an understatement to describe how serious about us I am.”

Reaching down, he gripped Justin’s shoulder and gave it a grateful, affectionate squeeze. “I’d love to. Let’s do it.”

Three years ago, Justin wouldn't have tied Tony's shoes for much of anything. If he found the man drunk in an alley and there happened to be reporters nearby, he might have stopped to tie his shoes, zip up his pants, and get him out, but—

—no, no, if there was ever a situation that ludicrously fucked up, Justin would have stopped, cameras in the area or no. He hadn't want to spit and dance on his grave, hadn't wanted him dead, hadn't wished he'd fly into the side of a building and kill himself. But outside of unsightly scenarios, nothing else would have gotten Justin to tie Tony's shoes for him.

But then something had happened, something that Justin couldn't recall but vaguely wondered about from time to time, and it had all just turned on its head and, apparently, ended up with them going camping at his parents' place. Some days he waffled on the idea of asking JARVIS if he knew what the hell had happened, if he had any records of whatever had occurred, but he wasn't so sure he wanted to know. Because if he found out on his own, he'd have to tell Tony, and what if it made him look bad? But what about it could make him look bad, and what made him think Tony would give a good Goddamn, all things considered with what they had going on with them now?

But here he was, seven months and almost a week later, tying his shoes in a tent they'd spent the night in, eyes focused on fixing the laces into proper double knots that would last. Oh, sure, they just had a short walk back to the house, but who liked their shoelaces coming undone, right?

"A-All right." Could you be any lamer? "I'm skipping Easter this year because I've got a bunch of company stuff on my plate but...after that, it's Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, and Easter...it's just a lot of visits over the course of a few months, you know? But, ah...Fourth of July ends up being a big deal for the company. Government work and all, there's usually some sort of party. I don't know, I got sent away before I went to one. Apparently, though, it's supposed to be a really big deal, so it's fortunate I never did anything with my parents then."

“I don’t really do anything for any of them anymore, so my calendar’s free whenever you are.”

As the CEO of Stark Industries, attending holiday parties had been expected of him. He didn’t always go, of course, but sometimes he did. To the Christmas party, to the company picnic for a few hours in the summer. When he remembered and he had absolutely nothing to do – and wanted to get laid – he went. But now that Pepper’s the CEO, putting in appearances is her job, not his.

He can stay home and hang out in his workshop. He can fly around the world or put on the suit and save someone in need. Tony’s opportunities are endless, and since he doesn’t put much value in holidays, he doesn’t feel like he’s missing out when one goes by unmarked.

“You’ll be able to go this year, right? To your Independence Day thing?” A Hammer Industries company party isn’t any place for him and he knows it. “You want me to get Steve to put in an appearance? It’s his birthday, I’m sure he’d be happy to go to a party.”

Shoes done with, he reaches for the bag and starts putting what little things he can back into it so there's nothing jostling in the tent when they carry it back. No odd little noise that they think is something chasing them—bear, bee, psychopath, frog, whatever—and that keeps his hands busy with an actual purpose. It's not idle but it keeps him from being idle, and he figured that Tony didn't do anything for holidays in the first place.

And then he has to go and ask that. Justin understands the reasoning behind it, he really does. It's not that he's assuming he won't be welcome, though he picks up that on pretty easily. It's that he offers up Steve as some sort of replacement, because he knows Justin admired him as a child and...what, would rather someone who's a legitimate stranger make an appearance because he's Captain America?

"Not really." Thirty years ago, the idea of meeting Captain Steve Rogers, defender of America and her allies! would have been thrilling. Hell, even now, it makes him feel a bit of his youth. If it was anyone else offering, he'd probably take them up on it. But he's done things he's not at all proud of, and he wonders how in the hell he could ever tell Captain America that he was his role model when all he has to do is ask SHIELD (or Tony) who this Justin Hammer is and what he's done...and that's a whole barrel of shame that he'd really rather not feel.

Particularly not if they were meeting before or at a Hammer Industries event.

"I don't have to go. I mean, I probably should, but I don't have to do anything I don't want to do. Boss and all. I mean, if I go, and you're not, uh, uncomfortable, then, then...I'd like you to go with me. I, you know, I'm not going to take someone with me if you don't go, but if you're not comfortable, then I don't want to press you or anything. Which is fine. I promise there won't be any pictures of me with, what was it? Some woman with what you think I want, tits and ass and hair, with her perfect fucking fingernails all over me while you can't do anything about it."

He pauses everything he's doing, bites his lip, and then goes back to zipping everything up as though he hasn't said anything particular meaningful at all.

"And I don't care about Steve. I don't know Steve. I don't care about Agent Romanoff or Agent Barton or anyone else. I mean, I would, if they showed up at my door on some routine call or something or other, and I know you're close friends with Doctor Banner, so I'd, uhm. I'd care about what he thought about me, sure, but...whatever, I'm going to shut up now."

Edited 2013-05-09 03:28 (UTC)

"Really?" There's a lot that Justin's saying, but Tony focuses on one statement more than the rest and it's that one that he feels most compelled to address. "You want me to go with you?"

He's not opposed to going in the least. He turns up at the company's headquarters so often, it's getting to the point where he's starting to spend as much time at Justin's company as he does at his own. Slightly more, in fact, since he has Pepper to run SI and walking in there tends to get him cornered by people who want to ask his opinion on and advice about everything under the sun. At least at Hammer, most of the employees let him off with a glance of acknowledgement. And he likes Jack. He doesn't know what Jack thinks about him, but the man's nice and polite and he takes care of Justin.

In the end, that's all that really matters to Tony.

"I'll go with you. I just—I thought it would weird. For you, not for me. I don't—It's not weird for me." And he'll be on his best behavior. He won't be loud and obnoxious, he won't breeze in like a celebrity. He'll dress nice, but not too nice, he won't show up in the Iron Man suit, and he won't carry on like he's the center of the universe.

As for his sometimes coworkers, Tony waves them aside. "Okay. Skip Steve. Forget all of them. They're not invited. Unless you want to invite them, that's different, but I'm not going to do it." He bends to help him pack up the rest of the equipment, trying to make himself useful as he rambles. "And for the record, Bruce likes you. I don't talk about you all the time, but it's often enough that he's formed an opinion."

Tony shows up at Hammer enough that people have figured out they're not what they used to be. There's no screaming matches that result in either party storming out of the building, whatever was ordered for lunch is mostly eaten by the time Tony leaves, and the few times the boss has given them extra time for lunch hasn't gone unnoticed. They appreciate it, his employees, whatever it is that's happened between them. There's probably a few who suspect it's a bit more than friendship, but there's years of evidence to say that Tony Stark's only sexual interest is in women. Besides, there's never any really obscene noises coming from the boss's office...but no one really remembers he had it soundproofed years ago because he had, at one point, taken to testing small bits of weaponry against his wall.

He'd had a tough time before Iron Man, what could he say?

I don't talk about you all the time.

No, Justin wouldn't think he did. He was sure he talked about him to someone, though, because he felt himself to be an integral part of Tony's life, and he'd mentioned that he'd told a few people. As far as it went for Justin, he talked to his parents and really no one else, because who else did he have to talk to?

Besides a few phone calls from Pepper, of course. And one conversation with Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes after a contract meeting, though it was short and sweet and neither of them really said bluntly what they meant.

"I'm glad he approves from a distance, then." What else was he supposed to say to that? Maybe he wasn't supposed to say anything at all. Maybe he just needed to stop talking in general. "And, yeah, sure. If I end up going, you can come with. Though, it's a lot of families and there's kids, so if you'd rather skip out on signing fifteen different things, I understand."

Tony didn’t really enjoy the attention that came with being a celebrity. When he went to a picnic, he wanted to have a burger just like everyone else. He didn’t want to be trapped at a table dutifully signing pictures and calendars and whatever else people brought up to him in the hopes of taking away some tiny piece of Tony Stark.

However, these people weren’t strangers. Not really. He didn’t know them. It was unlikely that he would ever know their names and their stories or that he would ever be able to do more than vaguely recognize them if he passed them on the street. But they were Justin’s people. They were the people Justin worked with day in and day out, and that made them somewhat different from the multitudes he met on a daily basis.

If one of Justin’s employees approached him for an autograph, he would give it. Once he knew that Justin was okay with that kind of behavior.

“You know, I don’t mind. It’s different when it’s people who are actually part of your life.” But Tony not minding wasn’t the same as Justin not minding, and he wasn’t about to mistake that. “The real question is, do you mind? The point’s for Hammer Industries to celebrate, right? I don’t want Tony Stark getting in the way of that, stealing the limelight or whatever. If you don’t mind them asking me for things, I don’t mind giving them.”

002 - The Stargazing Meme

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