The State We're In

Chapter 1: Concealment

Chapter Summary

Chapter Notes

Tony’s known Bruce Wayne for most of his life. Their parents had ended up in much of the same circles, even though the Starks were never quite the socialites the Waynes were. Tony and Bruce were generally thrown together as a matter of convenience. Let the kids go off and amuse themselves while their parents could talk business.

Bruce wasn’t a bad sidekick, in those days. For a seven-year-old, he’d been pretty damn bright. But then his parents died, leaving him no reason to attend stuffy parties, and anyway, Tony had been going off to college himself.

After that, he didn’t really pay much attention to what Bruce Wayne was up to. There were so many other more interesting things to be doing at any given point in time. Like getting drunk in Cancun with Rhodey and building really badass robots in his garage and occasionally getting ridiculously rich off designing weapons for the U.S. military.

He did have a moment to go, “Huh,” when Bruce came back from the dead, but he was in Vegas at the time, and he was winning pretty big at craps, and there was a girl with very nice tits who was hanging on to his every word, so it wasn’t like he was really paying attention.

It’s not until after Afghanistan, after the suit, after Obidiah, that he actually sees Bruce face-to-face again. There’s a charity dinner thing set up by Pepper that is in Tony’s name, so he can’t get out of it, and Bruce ends up on the guest list, mostly because he has the cash to burn.

They met for the first time when the Waynes were throwing a similar sort of gala, so it’s a bit surreal to see Bruce in the middle of one of these, now that Bruce is all tall and grown up and pretty. Bruce’s date is a stunning European supermodel who seems to enjoy being eyecandy, seems to enjoy being seen with Bruce. Tony almost misses the days when he could do that sort of thing, just because it was fun, just because he wanted to.

“Stop stealing my schtick, Wayne,” Tony says, shaking his hand in greeting. Bruce’s hands are surprisingly calloused, though Tony thinks he did hear someone mention that Bruce was pretty good at polo.

“I wasn’t aware you had a patent on it, Stark,” Bruce replies smoothly before breaking out into a bright grin. “Tony! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Seems like just yesterday we were playing hide-and-seek in the coat closet. Thanks for inviting me tonight. It looks like a wonderful party.”

Tony’s tempted to say, No. No, it doesn’t. It looks about as fun as watching all of Gettysburg in one sitting without the benefit of alcohol or marajuana, but Pepper had already given him the talk about how his public image was more important now than ever, since everyone knew he spent his free time fighting bad guys in a walking weapon of mass destruction.

So he just smiles and nods before Pepper can threaten to castrate him.

It’s later, when he finds an empty balcony where he can nurse his whiskey in peace, that Bruce comes out to find him. He isn’t with his date.

“So,” Bruce says, leaning overly casually against the balcony, and Tony takes a moment to enjoy the dark eyes, the sharp cheekbones, “Iron Man, huh?”

Tony sighs. Everyone wants to know about Iron Man. “I don’t know. Iron Man sounds a lot less interesting than that bat guy you’ve got over in Gotham. What is up with that, anyway?”

Bruce shrugs, turning to look out over the city. “Batman’s probably just some nutjob. I mean, He dresses up like a giant bat to fight criminals. That is not a sign of stable mental health.”

Up close, Tony can tell that there’s something sharper to Bruce than Bruce wants anyone to see, and Tony can respect that as a valid business strategy, but Tony’s never liked toning down how brilliant he is. His father always told him it was something he should never hide. “I gotta say,” Tony says, “I kinda dig the animal theme. Wish I thought of it first.”

That seems to startle a laugh out of Bruce, the first genuine one of the night. “What sort of animal do you want to be?”

Tony grins, remebering the stupid games they would invent as very bored kids. But this Bruce isn’t the one with the runny nose and the freakish obsession with Zorro; this one drives fancy sports cars, dates supermodels, and knows how to party in style. Still, it’s surprisingly easy to talk to him, like maybe things haven’t changed that much between them. “‘Snake Dude’ has a certain ring to it,” Tony says, then shifts back to the original topic, “You do have to admit that Gotham’s not quite as crappy a place with the guy in it.”

Bruce snorts, an undignified sound, and his eyes are fixed on an insignificant point on the horizon. “On some levels, he’s made things worse. The more he fights, the more crazies make their way out of the woodwork.” He sounds genuinely upset about that, like he actually cares, and it’s enough for Tony to make up his mind about Bruce.

“So us superhero types,” Tony says, leaning in closer, an subtle invitation that he hopes Bruce will pick up on, “not a fan, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Bruce says, looking Tony straight on, his voice dropping slightly, a slow smile crossing his face.

“Good,” Tony says, leaning in even closer so he can whisper in Bruce’s ear, close enough to feel the heat of Bruce’s body, “because I was really looking forward to fucking you tonight.”

Chapter 2: Exposure

Chapter Summary

Chapter Notes

Written for Porn Battle VII for the prompt ‘Batman/Iron Man, Bruce Wayne/Tony Stark, strip’.

Bruce doesn’t kiss the way Tony expects him to, like someone who’s spent too much of his life getting what he wants. He’s intense, focused, precise. Not that Tony’s complaining, mind you. Sex is always better when the other person gives a shit. Tony’s had enough crappy fucks to know that.

Tony’s also fucked enough people to know that no one’s this controlled during a make out session. Not without major issues, of course, and Tony considers asking Bruce about them before writing it off as tacky. Besides, he’s here to get laid, not have a long discussion about Bruce’s personal feelings. So he yanks at Bruce’s tie, loosening it with a sharp tug, pulls away from Bruce’s mouth to undo the buttons of Bruce’s shirt. Bruce is obviously hard in his pants (Tony takes it as a compliment.), and for a moment, Tony considers undoing Bruce’s fly and blowing him just like this, Bruce spread out on Tony’s sheets, his suit messy and rumpled, his fingers tangled in Tony’s hair. It’s a pretty sweet image if Tony says so himself.

But on the other hand, Tony’s a big fan of nakedness. Especially during sex. Which isn’t to say that he hasn’t had some truly fantastic sex with most of his clothes on, far from it. He does still remember that one time in Miami, after all. It’s just that on average, naked sex is way better than clothed sex, and statistics don’t lie.

He sheds his own clothes easily enough -- one of the advantages of years and years of practice -- and he loves the way Bruce’s eyes follow him, dark and intense. Tony lets himself enjoy pushing Bruce’s shirt off his nicely broad shoulders, exposing pale skin dotted with dark, fresh bruises.

“How’d you get those?” Tony asks, leaning in to lick one of Bruce’s nipples, the one that’s surrounded by a blue-violet splotch that must have hurt like a bitch when it happened.

Bruce hisses through his teeth, his body pulling tight in pain or arousal or both. “Polo,” he says in a way that’s a total lie, but Tony lets it pass. It’s the first time tonight that Bruce has really let his mask slip, and Tony wants to see if he can make it fall away entirely. Purely in the interest of science, of course.

Tony bites down, delighting in the feel of Bruce trying to control his reaction and failing. Tony loves the way Bruce’s muscles clench, all that power just underneath his skin, and it’s like the best V8 engine Tony’s ever put together by hand except better. It’s pretty obvious that Bruce has been toning his body for something, but Tony’ll worry about that after they’ve both gotten their rocks off.

“I could fuck you like this,” he says conversationally. “I could just lube you up and fuck you right now.” There’s a huge bruise that goes up Bruce’s hip, and as Tony pulls down Bruce’s pants, he imagines pressing down on it as he slides in. Tony’s dick likes that idea a lot. From the looks of it, Bruce’s dick does, too.

“Do you ever shut up, Stark?” Bruce asks, and his voice is deeper and rougher than usual. One of his hands wraps around the back of Tony’s neck, pulling him up so they’re face to face again.

Tony rubs his thumb over Bruce’s hip, a light touch, not enough to make it really hurt. “Nope,” he says, and he can’t keep the shit-eating grin from forming, really. Then he presses down hard on the bruise, enjoying Bruce’s full-body shiver, and leans in close so Bruce can see the challenge in his eyes. “But you can try and make me.”