More Than That

by Nix
(crimsonquills AT gmail DOT com)

Steve smiled at Clark as he fished around in his pocket for his room key. "I'm glad I ran into you," he said, pulling out a card that turned out to be a high end business card, rather than the room key. His pocket was full of them. "Normally when Tony and I do one of these fundraisers, there isn't another person there who isn't wearing a ten thousand dollar suit or prefers apple pie lavender and chocolate panna cotta." Steve's smile broadened for a moment. "At least, no one who'll admit it."

Clark returned the grin. "I know how you feel. I've gotten pretty good at amusing myself, but it's always better with company." They stopped in front of the room Tony and Steve were sharing while Steve searched for the key.

He finally got his fingers around the plastic card and swiped it through the lock. "It's late enough, maybe Tony will be in," Steve said as he opened the door, his eyes on Clark, "I'd like you to meet--" He glanced into the room as he stepped inside and broke off abruptly.

Tony was in. Tony was even in bed, asleep. He wasn't alone in the bed, though. Steve stared. Tony's tuxedo jacket and tie were missing. His collar had been undone. And he was wrapped tightly around another man in the same state of disarray. Steve could see a dark hickey on the stranger's throat. He almost didn't register Clark peering over his shoulder, or his surprised, "Bruce?"

Steve knew he shouldn't be so startled. He shouldn't have assumed that Tony was straight just because he'd never shown an interest in Steve. His taste just ran to tall, dark, and handsome. And wealthy, and charming, and apparently a bit dim, since that was Bruce Wayne he was plastered to.

Steve couldn't make his eyes change focus, so he spun around and stared into the hallway instead. Clark laid a hand on his arm. "Steve, this isn't what it looks like."

"It doesn't matter," Steve said quickly. "I don't have any reason to be upset. He's not mine. His personal life isn't any of my business. He's just my friend." He forced himself to stop before his voice broke.

"But you want more than that."

"It doesn't matter," Steve repeated. "He doesn't--"


Steve closed his eyes. Of course they'd woken Tony up.

"Steve," Tony repeated. He tugged on Steve's arm, made him turn and look at Tony, wonderfully someone else. Steve clenched his jaw. "We were talking," Tony said quietly. "And making fun of the other attendees, and we unbuttoned a bit to get comfortable, and--"

"Stop--" Steve choked out, but Tony kept going.

"--we fell asleep," Tony finished. "Neither of us had slept in days, and we were relaxed. We were talking, and we fell asleep, and I always end up wrapped around whoever I'm sharing a bed with, no matter who they are."

Steve wanted to believe him. "He has a hickey, Tony. A recent one."

Clark stepped into the room next to him, blushing slightly. "I gave that to Bruce just before the party. So, uh, that he'd remember who he was coming home to, when all those women were hanging all over him."

Steve glanced at the bed. Bruce was propped up on one elbow, watching the drama with an amused expression. "Clark has a possessive streak," he drawled.

Steve looked back at Tony nervously, sudden painfully aware of what he'd given away with his overreaction. "Tony, I--"

Tony interrupted. "If you wanted me to be yours, all you had to do was say so."

For a moment, everyone was still. Then Steve yanked Tony into his arms and kissed him, long and deep and hard. When he let go, Tony was flushed and breathless and leaning against Steve like his legs wouldn't hold him up. Looking at him, Steve felt almost giddy. "I want you to be mine," he said.

Tony grinned. He never looked away from Steve as he spoke. "Good night, Bruce, Clark. We'd like our room to ourselves now, please."

Maybe it was rude not to wish Bruce and Clark good night, but Steve was too busy kissing Tony to care.