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Bruce was technically younger than Tony, by six months. But he went through every change first.
The first change was Bruce’s voice, which broke before any other boy’s in their grade. Tony was startled, and not a little jealous, when his friend’s voice went from feathery and boyish one day to a low husky rumble the next. At first Bruce didn’t have full control over his new voice, which gave way to high screechy notes at the most unexpected and inopportune times. This earned Bruce endless teasing from their classmates. In turn, this led to Tony prank-rigging a lot of people’s lockers in retaliation, because he hated watching Bruce pretend not to be hurt.
Only he was allowed to tease Bruce for being an early bloomer. They were best friends, having been inseparable since they’d met the first day of science camp the summer before fifth grade. Since making friends with Bruce, Tony no longer had to worry about the long lonely weeks when Dad took Mom away on business trips and left him in the care of the family butler. Bruce would come over and offer really smart suggestions about Tony’s robots, or they would just watch movies and argue about the best way to make a real hyperdrive work. Or sometimes Tony would go over to Bruce’s house, and his aunt would make them a nice family dinner and smile tolerantly while they continued the same arguments. Tony was the only person Bruce ever told what his father had done to his mother, and why he now lived with his aunt. Despite his reputation as the class motormouth, Tony had never repeated it to another soul.
As they progressed through high school, there was a lot of early blooming for Tony to tease Bruce about. Bruce got tall first (though Tony ended up slightly taller after his growth spurt finally came), and his hands got awkwardly huge first, and Tony refused to believe it when Bruce started coming to school with shaving nicks on his jaw. Tony himself had been planning his dream goatee since seventh grade, but even now that he was in eleventh, he still couldn’t get more than a few scraggles to appear on his upper lip. He applied a razor the instant they appeared, however, because that still totally counted as needing to shave.
Jealousy. That, Tony decided, had to be the reason he couldn’t stop teasing Bruce. It had to be jealousy that made him obsessively sneak looks at Bruce’s big lanky hands and stubble-surrounded lips. Because Tony was technically older, and he was supposed to be the stud out of the two of them, right? But it was the younger Bruce who had manhood ripping through him, a force he could barely contain. Tony was coming along, sure, but all he really had to show for himself were mild acne clusters on his cheeks and constant, inexplicable boners.
Which by total coincidence, often followed along after his thoughts about Bruce’s body. Tony told himself that was no big deal, because they had also been known to happen during paper towel commercials on television. Tony thought he did a pretty good job of keeping all these totally jealous feelings about Bruce to himself, because they made his face flush and his chest flip over strangely, and Bruce might stop coming over to watch Battlestar Galactica if he ever found out about them.
***
Tony, eventually, blew it.
In his defense, Bruce caught him by surprise. It was supposed to be a normal day after gym class, but Bruce had broken his normal routine and elected to use the shower. So Tony really had no way to prepare himself for the sight of his best friend naked and sopping wet as he got out of the stall. Well, naked except for the towel around his waist. But that barely counted, because the sight of Bruce’s bare chest and back was enough to make Tony momentarily short out. Enough to make his chest flip over harder than it ever had before, and his mouth run dry and his brain stop producing words.
Tony’s brain always produced words, much to the annoyance of most other people, but Bruce seemed to like it. Normally this was a good thing for their friendship. But it also meant that Bruce knew something was going on if Tony stopped talking suddenly. Still unnervingly close to naked, Bruce peered at Tony in concern. Tony knew he had to cover for himself, to say something. He blurted out the first thought his brain produced.
Which happened to be: “Oh my god, you have chest hair!”
Tony exclaimed it loudly enough that it bounced off the tiles and resounded throughout the entire locker room. Loudly enough that some of the older boys changing a few feet away looked over and guffawed, and Bruce got that stiffly hurt look he always used to get when people teased him about his screechy voice. Tony whirled around with a sharp glare, taking note of whose lockers he would be placing disgusting substances in later. When he turned back, Bruce was already huffing off to his locker.
“Bruce,” Tony said, chasing after him. “Bruce, come on, I’m just saying. It’s really cool! I don’t have any.”
Bruce pulled on an undershirt and hustled into his well-worn Oxford shirt, as rough and fast as he could, as if he couldn’t hide the hair in question fast enough. He never really got angry, that Tony had ever seen. But sometimes he got really close to it, and he did this thing where he pressed his lips together so tightly they trembled, as if Bruce was only barely keeping back a nuclear temper. Bruce’s mouth shook badly as he buttoned his shirt. So did his hands.
“I wasn’t making fun of you,” Tony said. “I was just surprised.”
Wrong thing to say, judging by the way Bruce blanches, and continues to ignore Tony in favor of pulling on his pants.
“Surprised in a good way,” Tony elaborated.
“Can we just go to chemistry class and forget about it?” Bruce snapped.
***
Tony went along to chemistry class, but he didn’t forget about it.
How could he? He and Bruce were lab partners, and it was a special kind of torture watching Bruce fidget with his tightly-buttoned collar, pulling it up as if to prevent even the possibility of showing his chest hair. The more he did, the more it only reminded Tony of what he had seen, the masculine swoop of hair across Bruce’s slim pectorals. Tony squirmed in his seat, a familiar tingle beginning between his legs. Dammit. Not now.
Despite their chemistry class supposedly being an Advanced Placement course, most of the lab assignments were easy enough for either one of them to do in their sleep. Bruce and Tony always finished early. They finished especially early on this particular day, because Bruce was still cranky, which meant they ended up focusing on the work because it was the only way Tony could get Bruce not to ignore him completely. He hated it when Bruce ignored him. It gave him the most awful, pained pit in his stomach.
“Bruce,” Tony said. “Bruce, come on, I didn’t mean for those other kids to overhear.”
Bruce brooded down at his lab notes for another moment, fiddling with his pencil, and then looked up at Tony hesitantly. Tony grinned. Bruce could be moody sometimes, but he was a loyal friend, and he never held anything against Tony for long.
“Besides, they’re just jealous,” Tony said. “They wish they were half as grown-up as you.”
Bruce squawked. “They were seniors, Tony, they’re way older.”
“Only by one grade,” Tony said. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. They’re just pissed off that an underclassman has a way more manly carpet.”
“It’s not a ‘carpet’,” Bruce muttered, looking back down at his notes in embarrassment.
“I saw it, Bruce. You so totally have a carpet.”
“I do not.”
“Okay then. Fur?”
Bruce made a strangled noise.
“Can I touch it?” Tony said.
“Tony, stop!” Bruce cried. “I’m not some kind of freak, okay?”
Tony frowned in utter confusion. He didn’t think he had said anything like that, had he? But Bruce looked severely agitated, like he had definitely heard this somewhere and was trying not to believe it.
“Freak?” Tony leaned forward, angry. “Who said that to you?”
“No one,” Bruce muttered, looking kind of raw, and Tony wasn’t always the most perceptive person, but clearly he really meant Someone.
“Tell me,” Tony demanded. “Whose locker do I have to fill with shaving cream?”
Bruce let out a sad laugh. “You can’t – Nobody. Nevermind.”
“I really wasn’t calling you a freak,” Tony said after a moment. “I was thinking you were more like, you know, Magnum P.I.”
Bruce frowned in uncertainty. “Who?”
“Oh, Bruce,” Tony groaned.
He sometimes forgot that Bruce grew up in a bad household. When Bruce’s father wasn’t being violent, he often passed out drunk on the recliner in front of the only television set in the house. On such evenings Bruce stayed as far away from that room as possible, which meant that he had some really odd TV-related gaps in his knowledge of popular culture. Tony hadn’t been sure whether to feel proud of himself or kind of heartbroken when he showed Bruce Star Trek: The Next Generation for the first time, and it pretty much blew Bruce’s mind that such an amazing television show existed.
“When you come over today,” Tony said, “I’ll show you some of my dad’s old tapes. Magnum’s a stud.”
Bruce stayed quiet for a minute, biting at his lip in thought. That awful pained pit crept into Tony’s stomach, because what if he really screwed up and Bruce doesn’t want to hang out with him anymore?
“You’re coming over, right?” Tony pushes. “My dad’s out of town again. We could have pizza. Even with banana peppers. You still like those, right? I can pick mine off—”
“Tony,” Bruce said, looking at him very strangely. “Why are you even asking? I always want to come over.”
“Oh, well – yeah, I knew that,” Tony said, blustering just a little.
***
Magnum P.I. was a show Tony’s father liked. Normally this would’ve made Tony break out in hives at the idea of enjoying it too, but Dad actually showed the ghost of an approving smile when Tony sat down to watch one time. So Tony kept sneaking in to watch, and Dad never kicked him out or snapped at him to stop trying to get attention, so Tony learned to like the show. As it turned out, he didn’t have to try very hard. He found himself fascinated in that strange chest-flipping-over way whenever Magnum walked around in his swim trunks. It may or may not have been the first time Tony experienced one of those completely random boners.
Bruce, however, was not so enthralled. “This is boring,” he pronounced after a few episodes.
“We’re only on the first season,” Tony replied. “It gets better.”
Bruce looked distinctly unenthusiastic about the prospect of watching a whole season. Tony grumped and shut it off.
“It was just for educational purposes anyway,” Tony said. “Didn’t you think Magnum was a stud?”
Bruce grimaced. “He was old.”
“What?” Tony barked, slightly infuriated at the idea that he liked somebody old. “Okay, you’re not listening. The point is, he’s a sex symbol.”
“Was a sex symbol,” Bruce corrected. “Like twenty years ago.”
Tony growled a little bit in frustration. “Bruce, some things are timeless,” he said. “I’m just trying to help you realize that your… situation has some very well-respected precedents.”
Bruce crosses his arms, curling in on himself self-consciously.
“Nobody thought Magnum was a freak,” Tony said.
He meant to sound firm and decisive. Instead, it came out a little harsh, and Tony regretted saying it when open hurt washed over Bruce’s face. He watched helplessly as hurt turned to a roiling anger, although it wasn’t real anger, it was the kind of defensive hostility Bruce used to retreat into sometimes when other kids teased him too much.
“You’re a real jerk sometimes,” Bruce muttered, and got up from the couch.
“I wasn’t making fun of you,” Tony said, his voice rising in alarm as Bruce didn’t stop. “Hey, where are you going? There’s still pizza left. The veggie half is going in the garbage if you leave, because I’m not touching it!”
Bruce kept going, leaving Tony’s bedroom and stalking down the hall. Tony scrambled after him.
“Hey! Didn’t you want to work on the phaser project?” Tony tried. “The new batteries came, we can test the power source—”
Bruce flipped up a hand, waving him off.
“Bruce!” Tony yelled down the hallway. “Come on, I like you!”
It echoed, mortifyingly, in the grand hallway leading away from Tony’s bedroom.
No noise interrupted its resounding echo, as both Tony and Bruce were momentarily struck silent. At least Bruce’s footsteps had also stopped, as he’d frozen in place where he was about to start down the stairs.
“It,” Tony awkwardly tried to elaborate. “I mean I like it. The, um, carpet.”
Hearing it come out of his own mouth, Tony realized this did nothing to mitigate the I like you bomb. On the contrary, it was just an embarrassing bit of elaboration. Oh no, no, no. As realization settled in that he would never be able to take his words back, Tony felt that awful, painful pit starting to creep into his stomach. Bruce would never look at him the same way again. He was going to walk out and never come back. Then Tony would have to go back to playing by himself when Mom and Dad went away on long business trips, and that would be so crushingly lonely he couldn’t even stand to think about it.
“You, um,” came Bruce’s voice. “Really?”
Bruce had turned around, and now that he had, it was obvious his bad mood had lifted. He looked – not happy, not yet, but kind of like he desperately wanted to be.
“I thought you were,” Bruce said. “I don’t know, really making fun of me.”
“I wasn’t,” Tony muttered, scuffing his foot.
Bruce started back down the hall toward Tony. As he came closer, Tony could see a smile tugging at his mouth, one Bruce kept chewing on his lip to repress, like he was a little terrified to give into it. “You really – you really don’t think it’s weird?”
“Bruce,” Tony groaned. Sometimes Bruce needed this kind of thing pounded into his head. “Do you even know how much my life would suck if we weren’t friends? If you’re a freak, then there’s definitely no hope for me.”
Bruce turned bright red in the face, but it was a happy blush, judging by the stupid-hopeful smile that accompanied it. “Oh,” he said softly. “Oh.”
“Come on, big guy.” Tony clapped Bruce’s arm, invoking the nickname they’d established when Bruce first had that growth spurt.
He still wasn’t sure exactly what this moment had established, but if it meant Bruce was following him back to his room and they were sitting on the couch together again, he would take it.
“More pizza?” Tony said, reaching for the box.
Bruce shook his head. His brown eyes were a little distant, and trained on the floor in anxious thought.
“What?” Tony prodded, and his stomach pitched a little, because he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.
“It’s –” Bruce looked up, and then faltered. “Dumb.”
“No, come on,” Tony said. If there was one force in his personality stronger than his fear of being ignored, it was his curiosity. “You can tell me.”
“Well, it’s just – what you said in class.” Bruce swallowed. No, gulped. “That you wanted to – touch it?”
“Oh.” Tony’s heart beat faster, an urgent greed boiling up inside him at the possibility that he might actually get to do it. “You remember that?”
Bruce’s courage seemed to collapse. “Nevermind. I told you it was dumb.”
“If you’re asking if I was serious,” Tony said. “Then – um – yes.”
Bruce licked his lips. “Are you still… still serious?”
Tony’s eyes widened. He nodded eagerly.
“Okay,” Bruce said. He paused and took a breath, as if needing a moment to talk himself into going through with it.
Then he bent his head, deep in focus as he unbuttoned his Oxford shirt one by one. Enthralled, Tony watched him open and shrug out of the shirt, and he drew a slightly loud breath when Bruce was down to his undershirt. It was the highest-necked undershirt Tony had ever seen, like something that belonged on an old-timey bodybuilder, but the sight of it on Bruce excited Tony. It was tight enough to show the nubs of Bruce’s nipples, and a few tufts of black hair poked up over the scooped collar.
Then Bruce took the hem of his undershirt and pulled it up and off, inside-out. As he lifted his arms, Tony got a glimpse of the aggressively thick hair growing in Bruce’s armpits. God – Bruce had black curly hair everywhere. From his stubbled jaw down his neck, lightly dusting down his biceps and darkening his forearms, all over his belly and tracing a dark, thick treasure trail. Tony wondered how it would feel to curl up against him, to be nestled in all that hair.
Tony lifted a hand, but did not touch Bruce’s chest yet, not even sure how to start. He glanced at Bruce, making sure he still had permission. Bruce still looked like he had no idea where this was going, but he nodded encouragement.
Tony let his fingers fall into the black thicket, just over Bruce’s left pectoral. The individual hairs were coarse, but somehow grew so thickly they made a soft nest. Tony worked his fingers in deeper, feeling the hair tickle his fingers, and a pleasant jolt when his fingers brushed against Bruce’s warm skin. He pressed a little deeper and felt the rapid th-thump of Bruce’s heart.
“Wow,” Tony whispered. “This is so cool.”
His breath hitched a little bit as he said it, because so cool also happened to be code for the fact that another one of those inconvenient boners had shot up to attention in Tony’s lap.
“You like it?” Bruce said, sounding a little vulnerable, like he couldn’t believe he might hear a yes.
“Yeah,” Tony said. “God, Bruce, I fucking love it.”
Bruce broke into an astonished smile. He shifted closer, seeming unable to take his eyes off Tony. Specifically, Bruce seemed unable to take his eyes off Tony’s mouth, probably because Tony kept wetting his lips. Tony could feel Bruce’s chest expand as he took a nervous, steadying breath. Then Bruce parted his own lips, and leaned in, and Tony drew in an anticipatory breath and closed his eyes.
Bruce didn’t really know where he was aiming and his lips smacked along the side of Tony’s mouth, but it still sent a searing tingle through Tony’s groin. Tony kissed at him, trying to get their lips connected properly, despite the fact that they were fumbling slight overexcitement and didn’t know exactly how to arrange themselves, where to put their hands.
Once Tony’s hand had settled on Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce had his fingers cupped at Tony’s cheek, they kissed intensely, kissed for real. As Tony grew more confident he ventured his tongue forward, in between Bruce’s parted lips. A little noise of surprise sounded low in Bruce’s throat. But he accepted it, and sucked at the tip of Tony’s tongue exploratorily, and holy shit Tony had never felt anything like that before.
By the time they pulled back, Tony thought he might genuinely die from the euphoric trip-hammering of his heart. Bruce looked similarly overwhelmed, his panting breaths obscenely loud in the quiet room. Bruce’s lips were flushed a little darker, and shone with their shared spit. They looked at each other for a revelatory moment. Wordlessly, they began to kiss again. Bruce couldn’t seem to stop kissing Tony, now that he had permission. His lips plucked wetly at Tony’s mouth, Tony’s chin, Tony’s neck, behind Tony’s ear, at his mouth again and again and again—
“I-I really like you too,” Bruce admitted in a sudden, exhilarated rush of breath. “Tony, I… always—”
“Nnguh,” Tony affirmed inarticulately.
He pretty much had no idea what was going on except that the erection between his legs was throbbing and radiating the best feeling he’d ever had in his life, preoccupying every synapse in his brain. Tony pulled up his shirt and threw it across the room, and nestled himself against Bruce’s hairy chest and arms, and it felt even better than he had fantasized. Bruce’s bare skin slid hot along his own, his hair all soft rough friction. Tony moaned and squirmed as Bruce continued to kiss him, unable to process so many pleasurable sensations at once. He didn’t even realize he had begun thrusting up his hips, shallow and frantic, until a white-hot explosion of pleasure tore through him and he cried out.
Not until the sensation was fading out did Tony realize he’d blown hot and sticky against the inside of his pants.
Tony closed his eyes in disbelief. Oh fuck. Really?
Bruce pulled back, vaguely alarmed that he might have done something wrong. Then his eyes fell to Tony’s lap, and he registered the familiar scent of cum, and his jaw dropped.
“Shut up,” Tony said preemptively, because, how was it fair that this would be the one milestone he would have to hit before Bruce?
Bruce just smiled crookedly and kissed Tony again, and it wasn’t long before he caught up.
-end-