Iron Man, Tony/Rhodey, over and over again (1/2)
Tony makes it into the undersuit this time, but he thinks maybe it's on backwards--there's no hole for the arc reactor. Fucking Reed Richards and his fucking unstable molecules--when there was a zipper on this thing he never got that wrong.
He comes into the garage just in time to watch the armor taking off on its own. Third time this week it's done that. He glares up after it.
"Hey, Jarvis--you're not having an affair with the armor, are you?"
"Of course not, sir."
"Right. Just checking."
Tony strips off the undersuit upstairs and turns on the news. Iron Man's saving a school bus on a train trestle. Imagine that.
#
Rhodey looks tired, for which there is absolutely no excuse. Tony was up until almost eight a.m., and you don't see him dragging. Of course, he didn't get out of bed until four, and Rhodey still goes to an office from "0700" until "oh-whatever time they let people leave when they have office jobs". But that doesn't matter; Tony's ready to party.
He picks Rhodey up in the limo--like Rhodey really wanted to walk from the base to the satellite parking lot--and he ignores the crap Rhodey gives him about restricted areas. Whatever. It's not like Happy got himself arrested, so what's the big deal?
"No strippers in the car today, huh?" Rhodey asks.
"What? No--did you want some?" That sounds promising; Tony grins. "Who do you want?"
"Huh? Nobody--hey, I'm fine. You want some quiet for a change, that's fine by me."
"Oh, who wants quiet?" Tony smashes the buttons for the mp3 player, and the back of the limo fills with hip-hop, the kind with rap, sampling, and a female singer who moans too much. Rhodey makes a face that he immediately tries to cover; Tony thinks of it as his "what is this crazy-ass white boy doing" face, and Tony's life is not complete unless he gets that face out of Rhodey at least once a week. "Now c'mon," he shouts. "Pick a place. Where do you want to be right now? Madrid? Vegas? Say the word."
Rhodey snaps the radio off. "The word is home, Tony. You familiar with that one?"
"Sure," Tony says. He slides the privacy panel down. "Happy? Let's go home."
"No, my home, you--Jesus. Forget about it," Rhodey says, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Fine. Your place."
"That's more like it."
#
The ideal way to continue this evening would be to fuck Rhodey in a couple dozen positions, but apparently Tony's more tired than he thought; his body just isn't cooperating. Fine, fine, there's always plan B, which is a hot, sloppy blowjob that ends with Tony spitting discreetly onto the floor. Or maybe not so discreetly, if Rhodey's expression is anything to go on, but at least he's not getting out of bed.
"How about me?" Tony asks, sprawling across the bed.
"How about dinner?" Rhodey counteroffers. It's not as good as a blowjob, but Tony figures he can always try again later. He has Jarvis order them sushi, and when the delivery boy gets there, Rhodey picks it up and signs for his tip.
Rhodey doesn't bat an eyelash at the seven different kinds of sake Tony ordered, but he doesn't share, either. "I'll have a beer or something later," he says. Maybe he does; Tony doesn't notice, but when he goes to put the sushi away, the beer count in the fridge is definitely lower than he remembered.
"You tired? I'm tired," Rhodey says. He nudges Tony with his shoulder. "I need a shower and some sleep."
"Shower here. Sleep here," Tony offers. "There's enough room for you."