Somebody That I Used To Know (Tony and Clark)

[virginscotch]

Another day, another press conference. It was practically run of the mill for him these days, had been even before the Iron Man drama, it just seemed even more common since that all started. Still, it was almost worth it for every second he got to fly. Every swoop and dive, however bittersweet they were for what they reminded him of, made every inane question and accusation worth it.

He always hoped, though, every time, that maybe he'd be there. Tony knew Clark had become a journalist, it didn't take a genius billionaire to figure that out - and given that he was a genius billionaire, figuring it out had been very, very easy - and every time he held another press conference in another city, he scoured the crowd for sign of his face. He didn't want to hope he was there, he wanted to not think about him at all - Clark seemed to be managing just fine not thinking about him - but still he scanned the crowd, and still he downed an extra glass of scotch at the end of the day, and still he hoped.

This time he was rushed, just off a plane (he should have taken the suit, he told Pepper he should have taken the suit) and hustled into the room when it was already full, cameras flashing and keeping him from seeing the faces, and then he had papers shoved in front of him that he was supposed to have read and before he knew it the first question had come and a figure had stood up. Tony looked up, still slightly blinded from the flashes, and froze.

Comments

[stands_for_hope]

It had been years.

Years on the road, years of letters and calls, all rebuffed, all ignored. At first, he'd done his best to understand. Tony was an important person, more important than some farmboy from Kansas wherever he was really from, more important than a firmly mediocre journalism student.

But then weeks had turned to months and months had, unfortunately turned to years. The last letter had been sent on the second anniversary of Tony's departure and that had been that.

He'd watched. Of course he'd watched. He'd watched as Tony had wined and dined, womanized and scandalized. He'd watched and he'd done his best not to let anger rise up in him. He'd avoided every press conference, stayed away from the technology pieces, slipped away when Stark Industries did anything newsworthy and tried not to be angry as he watched Tony do what his father had done before him, sell death wholesale.

And when he came back from a mission off planet to hear that Tony Stark had saved himself from a desert kidnapping, his heart had nearly beaten out of his chest at the news that Tony had been in danger like that. The only saving grace was that he'd survived, survived and changed, and he was honest enough with himself that when it'd become clear that that change was sticking, then and only then had he let himself be in the room when a Stark press conference assignment had come up.

That was why he stood up and looked Tony right in the eyes as he asked his question.

"What do you have to say about the reports that one of your companions among the Avengers is, in fact, an alien from another world? Especially given your public offer to house said team mates?"

Why did you run away from me? What did I do to get tossed to the wayside?

[virginscotch]

Tony's jaw set and the bitterness washed over him like acid. Everything he'd done and everything he'd been through - on his own, without any help from the man who'd once been so close to him, even though Clark could have saved him in seconds - and not a word, and now there he was, right in front of him, standing up in a press conference and asking about aliens . Like Clark didn't know exactly what he thought about the subject. Like Clark didn't know what he thought about almost every subject. Like Clark didn't know him intimitely in every way... or he used to, Tony reminded himself, it had been a long time, maybe they just didn't know each other at all now.

He realised that the babble of confused voices was nothing to do with the question, but his continued staring at Clark without answering it. Pepper kicked him under the table and he cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound normal and put his best smile on and keep Clark's gaze as he answered.

"Well, some americans will claim anybody's an alien. Outer space is a new one, they usually just stick with Mexico," he managed, answering without really answering, a murmur of laughter echoing through the crowd. He tried to drag his gaze away, move on to the next reporter and ignore the ache in his chest, but he couldn't.

[stands_for_hope]

"What are your feelings about aliens, Mr. Stark?" Clark pressed, and he couldn't keep the hurt out of his eyes, the raw pain of it. The glasses, thankfully, protected him from others seeing those things. Thick rims could do wonders. And he couldn't stop himself. Now that he was finally in the room with the other man, seeing him again, he couldn't help it. Because what he wanted was to fly up there and kiss him against the stupid Stark Industries plaque hanging behind him. Kiss him until even he wouldn't know why Clark had been tossed aside.

Then, to keep it on topic, give the rest of the world a reason for his vindictiveness on the point.

"Especially given Lex Luthor's accusations that you may be plundering tech from alien sources for your superhero antics."

[virginscotch]

And hadn't that terrified him. He'd never let anybody know, of course, he'd waved off the accusations and not let anybody near his suit and closed the door on everybody else and freaked out because how the hell did Luthor know? He'd wanted to look up Clark then and there, to warn him, to... something, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to do it, hadn't been mature enough to push past the hurt and the rejection and make sure that Clark knew somebody might know about him. Apparently he did, because if anybody knew that Tony's tech was powered by alien resources, it was the man staring him down right now.

"Plunder is a bit of a harsh word, I know some people think I'm a bad guy but if I was using any alien tech, I'm sure the alien would have given it to me willingly," he grinned like it was a joke, and there was more polite laughter, but his smile was strained and there was just the tiniest hint of hurt in his eyes if you knew what to look for. Clark had given him that technology, and he'd kept his promise and not done anything with it even though he could have used it to make enough clean energy for the whole world, instead he'd taken other avenues and he'd kept Clark's crystal and its secrets close.

"Seriously though, as long as they're here to get along with us, I'm just fine with aliens."

[stands_for_hope]

Clark kept looking at him for a moment, his own pain clear in those blue eyes, and people let that moment stand for a second or two before the rabble started howling again and another reporter was shouting questions. Lois looked sideways at him and yanked him down, giving him a 'what the hell are you doing?' look since that question was so far out of the realm of things he should have been focusing on, not to mention associated CLARK KENT with ALIENS which was a TERRIBLE IDEA. Not to mention supporting Luthor! Clark just let his face shut down made a silent request of her that she leave him alone on the point. Lois looked wary... but she nodded.

Which was why Clark didn't do or say much of anything for the rest of the press conference. And made sure to slip away before anyone could possibly pull him aside or request his presence.

But he'd seen that little sliver of hurt. Had felt the answering pang in the center of his chest, stronger than any bullet. That was why as Tony was working in the wee hours of the morning, he might suddenly smell a very familiar scent. Or at least, what had once been a very familiar scent.

The scent of a perfect blueberry pie, coming from that very thing that somehow had appeared on the work table nearest to the windows.

[virginscotch]

Pepper definitely had questions after that conference, particularly when he was distracted and just a bit weird for the rest of the questions, and skipped out early with a more abrasive excuse than usual. He waved off her questions and disappeared into his lab with instructions to Jarvis that he not be disturbed. He couldn't concentrate on anything, tinkering with a handful of different projects, none with much success. He turned his attention to tuning up the suit, but it was already in perfect condition, and in the end it just made him angrier to look at something that had come with Clark's help.

Shoving himself away, he thought for a second that he was imagining the scent of pie, cursing out loud at his own traitorous senses - until the smell didn't go away and he realised he wasn't imagining it, and there was a pie on his work bench. He stared at it for a long second, then his eyes narrowed and he got up, stalking over to the corner where he kept his scotch and pouring himself a generous glass.

"Bit late for pie, isn't it?" he commented out loud, and even he didn't know if he was referring to the time of day or the time passed, but he hoped Clark was close enough that he could still hear.

[stands_for_hope]

"Never too late for pie," was the answer, spoken with Clark's easy confidence as Superman floated down from the rafters of the high ceiling. He didn't let his feet touch the ground, choosing instead to float across from Tony, the work table (and the pie) between them. He let that be all that was between them for a moment before--

"Two years," was all he said, because Tony might not think it was important, but he'd had his heart broken and ripped out by silence, by dismissal, back when he'd been no one and nothing. Back when he'd only had one thing, his secret, and he'd given it freely to Tony only to be tossed away once he'd no longer been interesting enough.

And that heartbreak was in his voice, in his eyes. That question: why?

[virginscotch]

That moment of silence between them would have been broken a lot sooner were it not for the fact that, pie notwithstanding, Tony was not prepared to suddenly have Clark standing (well, floating) in front of him, looking - if possible - even more attractive than he had been the last time they'd met. Glib responses about pie, however much he would have come out with them himself, just enraged him, but he didn't quite manage to get all his anger out quick enough because suddenly Clark was speaking again. He was speaking again and he was looking at Tony with such sadness that Tony almost threw his glass at him.

Tony might have been the one to leave, called away by grief and work and poor social skills, but how dare Clark stand there in front of him with those wounded eyes, like Tony was the only one who could have gotten in touch, like Tony hadn't just gone through one of the toughest times in his life and done it all alone because Clark couldn't just realise that Tony was emotionally stunted and wasn't going to make the first move. Yes he knew that was ridiculous and selfish, but welcome to Tony Stark.

"Boy scouts taught you to count huh?" he shot back, joke dripping with more bitterness and venom than he'd ever intended it to, taking a large sip of his drink. That was the way Tony, fire your shots, back away and nobody could ever hurt you.

[stands_for_hope]

"Two years," Clark repeated as he floated around the table ever so slowly, making his way towards Tony. Because that was pain. Clark could see it in Tony, had always been able to see it in Tony, when everyone else had assumed the worst of him.

"I called, I texted, I wrote you letters..." he said as he got closer and closer, "for two years and I didn't hear a word back from you. Not a peep. You came back here" and he gestured expansively at the workshop, the tower, Stark Industries, "all done with slumming it with the pretty farmboy, didn't even give me the benefit of a proper goodbye..."

Now he was close, so close, right up in Tony's space as he looked into his eyes with such pain, such confusion. And anger. So so much anger.

"Is it the fact that I only tried to contact you for two years or the fact that I had the gall to actually do something with my life after you thought there wasn't anything useful left there?"

[virginscotch]

He never got any calls, no letters, not the slightest indication that Clark had ever tried to reach him at all. He wasn't slumming it, he was never slumming it, he still missed Clark, an ache deep in his heart that he wanted desperately to cure, he never thought there was nothing left, Clark was everything, Clark had always been everything. He wanted to say it all, wanted to promise and declare and beg and plead for Clark to not be angry and to understand.

But he couldn't.

The words stuck in his throat, he couldn't find a way to express the emotions that were overwhelming him. If nothing else, the last few years had cemented the cynical, uncaring nature he'd always pretended to have. He couldn't bring up those thoughts. So instead of trying to explain, instead of softening and doing the right thing, he hardened. He grit his teeth and his raised his eyebrow and he turned on the sass.

"Sure. Man I couldn't wait to skip town, who needs blueberry pie and hallmark moments when I can have this," he flung his arms out to indicate the building "Yea my old man had to croak but hey, I never really liked him anyway. I like cars, and money, and girls and booze," he waved his glass and drained it, slamming it down on the worktop so hard it almost broke.

"I don't know who you were writing to but it sure as hell wasn't me. Maybe you can go rescue him when he gets kidnapped by terrorists." He hadn't meant to bring that up, but it stung, it was right there bubbling up on the surface and he couldn't hold it down.

[stands_for_hope]

"Not that you hadn't made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me," Clark said, his voice slow and sliding along the edge between rage and sadness, "but I was actually offworld during the entire thing. I came back to hear you'd been captured" and his heart had been in his throat for what felt like an eternity "and the next sentence out of my teammate's mouth was that you'd made your way out. Next time, I'll make sure to tell the interstellar warlord to come back and conquer that planet another day."

And he swallowed just thinking about it, just thinking about all the things that'd flashed through his mind at the thought of Tony captured, Tony hurt, Tony dea--

He breathed in deep and looked up at Tony.

"If I wasn't writing you," and he did his best to keep his tone even, "then you changed your email address and your phone number without telling me. And I suppose it's easy enough to lose an envelope. Especially when you obviously didn't want it in the first place."

[virginscotch]

Well. That. Hearing that Clark had a completely legitimate excuse simultaneously took the wind completely out of his sails and made him even more angry. How dare Clark have a good reason! Perfect god damn Clark and his perfect face and his perfect chest and his perfect niceness who absolutely would have come to save Tony even though Tony was a terrible person because of course he would have, because he was Clark and that was what he did.

"...my email address was found out, I had to change it. The old one ended up flooded with fanmail. My letters are flooded with fanmail. My phone is... do you know how many people try and contact me a day? Business people. Fans. Job requests. I don't deal with that, other people do." he bites it out, angry and hurt and so, so frustrated because all this time he just thought Clark didn't care.

He turned away abruptly, not able to keep Clark's gaze. He poured himself another glass of scotch.

"I never knew you tried." he said, voice so quiet that if it had been anybody but Clark they probably wouldn't even have heard it.

[stands_for_hope]

And that... hurt all by itself. Because--

"How could you even think I wouldn't? How did it even cross your mind that I'd try and leave you alone to handle that? That I'd abandon you when you'd lost your parents?"

He gave a laugh, but it was a sick sound. A deep, heartsick sound of loss and pain more than anything, manic in it's pitch.

"That my mother would let me. She practically adopted you!"

That was when he lunged forward, finally, finally grabbing Tony by the shirt and hauling him forward.

"And don't you tell me that you had to lose my messages. I know how smart you are, I know better than just about anyone else what you can do. You're going to tell me that you couldn't manage a simple electronic filter? Or did you not even look?"

[virginscotch]

When Clark grabbed hold of him he lost his grip on his glass. It shattered against the floor and sprayed scotch across his feet, but he barely even noticed, too busy staring at Clark. He'd never seen him this angry before, it was almost fascinating, he was almost amazed that he could be responsible for such an action. He was still angry himself, riled up and frustrated and he didn't know if he was angry at himself or Clark but he didn't want to be blamed for this, didn't want this to be all his fault, even though he couldn't help but imagine it probably was. Everything seemed to be his fault lately, and it didn't seem to matter what he did to try and atone for it.

"Of course I looked!" he yelled "I looked and I waited and I asked and they told me there was nothing. Stane..." he stopped, trailing off. Stane. Stane who he'd thought was going to be there for him, who would look after him, who had his back. Stane who he'd drunkenly confessed to one night, about the boy he'd run out on, about wanting to go back to him. Stane who'd convinced Tony that Clark would come to him. That all he had to do was wait. Stane who recommended staff to look through all his correspondence before passing it on to him...

He was almost limp in Clark's grip now, realising what an idiot he'd been, unable to admit it.

[stands_for_hope]

Clark felt Tony go limp and it was at odds with his own muscles, the whole of him shaking like a racehorse made to run too long, his eyes just a little wild. He heard it, in the flutter of his heart, the change in his breathing, and it was hard because he'd been so hurt, so angry...

But Clark's way had never been to hold onto anger. Clark had never turned to rage when his heart was sick, or not for long.

That was why Tony was pulled closer, into his arms, away from the broken glass as Clark held onto him and let his head rest tight against Tony's cheek.

"I missed you."

[virginscotch]

Tony had no idea what he was expecting to happen next, but it wasn't for all of Clark's rage to leave him in a rush, it wasn't being pulled against him in an achingly familiar embrace, pressed up against the chest he knew so well. It felt, far more than it should have, like coming home, and he didn't even realise he was wrapping his arms around Clark in return until he'd already done it.

He didn't know how to respond, less able to let go of all that hurt and bitterness that had been overwhelming him, less able to break out of the shell of sarcasm and alcohol he'd cocooned himself in since leaving Clark.

"You too." he managed quietly, mumbled against Clark's shoulder, awkward and lost. He might not be able to find the words, knew that if he spoke any more it would come out too flippant, too irreverent, so instead he just clung tighter to Clark, begging him with the grip of his hands to not let go.

[stands_for_hope]

Clark didn't so much let go as slowly float them over towards the couch, holding onto Tony as if they'd never parted, as if Tony belonged there in his arms like he'd never left them.

"Don't want you to cut your feet," and there it was, that gentle care that he'd always had when it came to Tony.

[virginscotch]

"Still gunning for sainthood I see," and while his tone is light and teasing, there's none of the venom that was in his earlier words. He almost just sounds tired, like he's been pretending to be stronger than he is for too long, and maybe that's the truth. The Tony Stark he'd cultivated was not the one who had quiet cuddles on the couch, and he didn't know if he could be that person again, but right now there was just enough aching loss to want to cling on to the past for just a moment, even if he wasn't sure it could last.

[stands_for_hope]

"Or maybe I still like your feet," he said with a faint, small smile. Clark had, over their time together, told Tony he liked just about every part of him as much because it was true as to try and make him less self0conscious. Eventually, Clark had informed him how much he liked Tony's feet, which for some reason had been the most ridiculous thing at the time. Now, it didn't seem so ridiculous. Now it just seemed warm and distant and necessary. Necessary enough to pull out of the past.

"God, I was stupid. I should have just... come. It's not like anything could stop me. But I didn't want to... I thought--"

He leaned over and kissed Tony's hair.

"I'm sorry."

[virginscotch]

Tony didn't know what he was more surprised by - that Clark still remembered that dorky conversation, or that he did, and that it still had the power to make him feel as warm and loved as it had done in the past. It was a feeling he'd almost forgotten how to have.

"I should never have trusted Stane," he said slowly, with difficulty, it was something he was still kicking himself for after everything that had happened with the man, he was smart, he should have known , but he'd been oblivious and look what it had cost him...

He buried his face in Clark's chest and breathes in the scent of him, it was something he never thought he'd have a chance to do again.

[stands_for_hope]

"If he wasn't already gone..." and there was that anger again, though Tony would know as much from knowing Clark as from knowing Superman that there was far less violence in the threat than it sounded like. He was just frustrated, and not at Tony.

Well, a little at Tony but he was willing to let that lay. He huffed out a little sigh.

"...I'll admit. I thought you might have decided you were straight."

[virginscotch]

"I know what you mean," Tony said in a low voice, and though externally he just seemed to be agreeing with Clark's anger, inside he couldn't help but just be a little bit pleased that Clark was on his side about that - not that it was difficult to be not on his side after everything that had happened, but for some reason knowing Clark seemed angry on his behalf was comforting.

"Straight?" he snorted in amusement "I am too hot to constrain to one gender. Everybody should have a chance. The media just only finds out about the girls." his response was glib, but there hadn't actually been that many boys. Girls were easy enough, he could lose himself in the pleasure and move on without thinking about Clark, but boys... the few that there had been, always brunettes, always muscular, he hadn't been able to lose himself there, hadn't been able to shake the knowledge in the back of his mind that he was just trying to replace Clark. It never worked.

[stands_for_hope]

So Tony wasn't interested in being out. Well. He'd never made his own preferences terribly public; he'd never claimed to be straight but most people assumed it of him and he'd never made a point otherwise, as much because he didn't want to be memorable as because there hadn't been much point.

And he probably should have left well enough alone, but...

"Where does that leave us, then? If you don't mind me asking. Not that--" he looked at Tony directly, "I don't expect us to just slip back into our old relationship. We're both... different people, I guess. But--"

He leaned in a little and slowly, agonizingly slow, he pressed his lips to Tony's to kiss him. And while it had been years and so much heartache in between, the heat was still there. At least for him.

[virginscotch]

Tony honestly didn't know if he'd tell the world if things picked up with Clark again. It wasn't that he wanted to hide it as such, he didn't really care enough about what people thought to try and hide it, not when it was something serious... but it was something serious, or it had been, and it wasn't so much about wanting to hide Clark as wanting to keep him to himself. He never had been very good at sharing.

He didn't know how to reply to Clark, the conversation had the potential to be too serious, too much for him to really handle, and he didn't know how to find the words to express what he actually wanted to say. When Clark leaned in, he happily surrendered himself, actions spoke louder than words or so they said, and he was more than ok with letting his actions speak for him. As soon as their lips pressed together, he pushed forward, gripping Clark tightly and pouring his feelings into the kiss. It was like being a teenager all over again.

[stands_for_hope]

When Clark could feel Tony needed to breath, he pulled back a little and nuzzled at the other man's cheek, his nose, grinned so brightly.

"No problem touching now, I see."