(Continuation of this.)
When the bell rings, Steve all but runs to the school parking lot. At least, he walks as fast as he can without it turning into a jog, and for a second when he gets there he thinks he’s been ditched- Tony never intended to show up anyway, he only said he’d meet Steve so Steve would leave him alone, Tony thought he’d make Steve feel like an idiot-
But then Steve spots him, standing beside Steve’s motorbike, running a careless hand over the handlebars. He’s engrossed, bending to check the engine and smiling and muttering stuff under his breath, so he doesn’t notice Steve’s presence until Steve is standing right next to him and saying, “Impressed?”
Tony bolts up, hands going to the straps of his bag and clutching. It makes Steve frown- does Tony get a lot of people coming up behind him and yanking his bag off?
When Tony sees who it is, he relaxes. “I’m not disappointed,” he says, and shrugs. “It could be better, though.”
Steve grins. “Oh?”
"Yeah. I could make some improvements."
Steve takes in the pseudo-casual smile. “You do that sort of stuff, right? Mechanics?”
"I dabble," Tony says, like it amuses him. He slides his hand over a handle like he had been doing before Steve got here, fingers pressing light over the clutch. "I have friends, by the way."
"Glad to hear it," Steve says, cringing internally- his mouth had gotten away from him this morning, he regrets a good half of what he had said and had gone over it all through Bio.
"Rhodey and Pep. They go to Marrian."
"They’re in college?"
"Cool," Steve says, scuffing his feet and pretending he isn’t. Tony has cool college friends. Steve can be cool. Steve wears leather jackets and rides a motorcycle, motorcycles are cool.
Cool people probably don’t say ‘cool’ all that much, Steve’s mind supplies, and Steve tells his mind to kindly shut it.
"It’s just," Steve says, and yep, there goes his filter. "Just, you don’t hang out with people at school. I thought it must be lonely."
Tony hums like it hadn’t crossed his mind before. “Steve Rogers, lead of the Howling Commando biker gang, wastes time thinking Tony Stark must be lonely?”
"Wasn’t wasting time," Steve says, trying to sound every bit of the leader of the Howling Commando biker gang and less like Steve, "I- see you in the halls. And classes. It just popped up in my mind. So."
"So you thought you’d ambush me before classes?"
"I didn’t ambush you."
Tony makes a face. “Kinda did. But hey, better than beating me up, which is what I thought you were gonna do.”
"I wouldn’t beat you up," Steve says, frowning, but Tony’s already backtracking, hands up defensively.
"Yeah, yeah, you only do unto others what they do unto you," Tony says, and cocks his head. "Was it you that slashed Zola’s tires last week?"
Steve snorts. “Bucky did, actually.”
"But you gave the order?"
"I might’ve suggested something to him," Steve allows, and Tony’s smirk widens.
"What’d he do to you?"
"He’s been peeping in the girl’s locker rooms."
"Oh." Tony’s nose wrinkles. "Ew. So what, you don’t just keep your people safe, you guard the school, too?"
"I like to think I do my part," Steve says honestly. "Besides, who doesn’t want to shove Zola up against a locker?"
"You shoved him up against-? What else have you done this month, Rogers?"
"Nothing you can prove," Steve says innocently.
Tony looks at him, considering. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth before pulling free. “All this protecting the student body from a guy in a biker jacket.”
"Hey, don’t diss the jacket," Steve says, puffing out his shoulder so Tony laughs. He is proud of it, though- it’s nice, watching him, Pegs, Natasha, Bucky and Sam walk through the halls with their matching jackets. Gives him a sense of family.
"It is a very nice jacket," Tony says, eyeing the width of Steve’s shoulders long enough that Steve squirms.
"Uh, so," Steve says, and clears his throat. Damn, he feels like he’s five-foot nothing again, complete with sticks for arms. "Motorbike," he says lamely, gesturing at it.
Tony’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t comment. “Motorbike,” he agrees solemnly, and steps back to let Steve get on. “Hey, should I take off my glasses?”
"Probably," Steve says, swinging one leg over. "We’re gonna be going pretty fast."
"You promise," Tony mumbles, and Steve doesn’t have time to ask what he means because Tony is getting on the motorbike behind him, pressing up against Steve’s back. "Go, noble steed."
"Motorbike’s the steed," Steve tells him. "I’m the driver."
"Onwards, noble driver," Tony says, and startles when Steve hands him his spare helmet. "Oh, I don’t do helmets."
"You’ll do helmets if you want a ride on this bike."
Tony takes the helmet like it’s going to bite him. “The things I do for rides with hot blondes,” he sighs, and Steve’s blush is miraculously hidden by his own helmet.
He clears his throat. “Helmet on?”
"I hate you."
"Taking that as a yes," Steve says, and guns the engine.