Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sun was still rising on the horizon, casting a glow on the pristine lawns of Ford University. The crisp morning air carried the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting from the campus's numerous coffee shops and the smell of damp grass—the silent prelude to yet another chaotic semester. For most, it was the start of a day. For Tony Stark, it was merely the continuation of a night that had never ended.

He strode down the main corridor of the Engineering building with the urgency of someone with caffeine coursing through his veins instead of blood. His brown hair looked like it had fought a losing battle with the pillow. His thin-rimmed glasses, more a fashion accessory than a necessity, hung precariously from the pocket of grease-stained jeans, swaying with every step. In one hand, a steaming cup of pure black coffee. In the other, a tablet where lines of code danced frantically.

He had slept three hours. For the past three nights. But who needs sleep when you have a mind that refuses to shut down and a project that could revolutionize robotics? Sleep was a luxury for the less ambitious.

"If I don't die of a coffee overdose," he muttered to himself, his hoarse voice interrupted by a yawn he tried to disguise as a sigh of boredom, "it'll be in yet another calculus class at seven in the morning. Frankly, torture."

Fate, as always, decided to have some fun at his expense.

Turning a corner with his attention completely consumed by a complex algorithm, he ignored the most obvious fact in the universe: moving bodies tend to collide. The impact was quick, inevitable, and surprisingly solid.

Coffee flew out in a graceful arc. The tablet spun dangerously in Tony's fingers, almost meeting its final destination on the floor.
And the silence of the hallway was broken.

"Damn it!" Tony held the empty glass, watching the brown stain spreading across the other man's shirt.

The man in front of him looked up. The movement was slow, deliberate, like that of a predator assessing a threat. He was tall, and the word "impeccable" seemed to have been invented for him. His dark hair, with gray strands at the temples, was neatly combed. The kind of guy who, Tony instantly assumed, slept eight hours a night, woke up at five to meditate, and spent the rest of the day judging the rest of humanity.

"Unbelievable," said the stranger, his voice deep and irritatingly controlled. "Seven in the morning and you're already attacking innocent people with coffee."

Tony arched an eyebrow, the beginning of a smile curving his lips.
"Relax, Café-com-leite. It was an accident. Statistically speaking, 73% of students spill coffee before eight. You were just unlucky to be part of the sample."

The other rolled his eyes, wiping his ruined shirt with a handkerchief.
"Are you always like this, or does lack of sleep make your... charm even worse?"

"I was born this way," Tony replied, with that smug glint in his eye. "Genius is a genetic trait, apparently."

"Modest, I see." The man gave a half-smile—the kind of smile that seemed more like a challenge. "Stephen Strange."

Tony winked, offering his hand without a hint of shame. "Tony Stark. Engineering. The pleasure is all yours, obviously."

Stephen hesitated before shaking his hand firmly, his gaze cold. "Next time, Stark, try to keep the coffee in the cup."

Tony tilted his head, his smile returning. "No promises."

Stephen turned and walked down the hall, leaving behind a trail of coffee and disdain. Tony watched him for a few seconds before taking a sip of what remained in his empty cup.

"That's really strange..." he murmured, chuckling softly. "Dr. Arrogance personified."

But something about that voice, that restrained look, stayed in his mind more than he cared to admit.

---

Stephen's peace lasted exactly thirty seconds after the encounter. He had barely arrived at the medical building when an excited voice called out to him.

Hey, Stephen! Wait a minute!

He sighed before even turning around. Only one person at Ford University possessed that level of chaotic energy before the sun had fully risen.

 The cheerful voice called out, quickly followed by a pat on the back.

Stephen sighed before even turning around. "Uhm."

Scott Lang, the most chaotic Computer Science student at Ford, appeared beside him with his unruly brown hair, his backpack half-open revealing USB cables and bits of chips, holding a cup of coffee so precariously balanced that it defied the laws of physics.

"You seem... too happy for this hour," Stephen commented, adjusting the white lab coat he was wearing even outside the laboratory.

"It's because I fell asleep, man." Scott took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. "I mean, sort of. I had a nightmare where the university server erased all the grades and... oh well. The important thing is that I survived for another day of academic glory."

Stephen raised an eyebrow, looking unconvinced. "Does 'academic glory' include being late to Database class again?"

Scott glanced at his watch, his eyes widening.
"...It depends. What time is it?"

"Seven ten."

"Shit." He started walking quickly, but stopped when he noticed Stephen coming from the opposite direction. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Anatomy." Stephen adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. "Unlike you, I like to arrive before the professor."

"Yeah, and unlike you, I like staying alive." Scott laughed, already walking away. "Good luck dissecting corpses before breakfast!"

Stephen simply shook his head, used to Lang's chaotic energy. Still, he couldn't help but smile slightly.

The hallway of the medical building was lit by tall windows, the sound of footsteps echoing between the bulletin boards filled with notices about internships and conferences. Stephen entered the anatomy lab and chose a table at the back, opening his meticulously organized notebook.

The peace lasted exactly thirty seconds.

"Is this spot free?" a familiar voice asked.

Stephen slowly raised his eyes, and the universe, in its ironic cruelty, returned to him the same face that had ruined his shirt and his peace earlier.

Tony Stark was there, casually leaning against the door, a lazy smile on his face and a fresh cup of coffee in his hand.

"You." Stephen blinked, incredulous. "The terror of the white shirts."

"Doctor Spotted." Tony raised his glass in an imaginary toast. "Look, destiny is a beautiful thing, isn't it?"

" Or a curse." Stephen turned the page of his notebook without looking at him. "What is an engineering student doing in a medical building?"

Tony sat down in the chair next to him, completely ignoring the hostility.
“Interdisciplinary project. Medical robotics. My team is developing an automated surgical arm.” He took a sip of his coffee, glancing sideways. “But now that I think about it, maybe I came for the charm of the company.”

Stephen sighed, squeezing the pen between his fingers.
"If you spill coffee again, Stark, I swear I'll dissect you—"

"Calm down, Stranger," Tony interrupted, amused. "I promise to keep the coffee under control. For now."

Christine Palmer entered the room shortly after, her gentle smile widening at the sight of Stephen. She nodded before casting a curious glance at Tony, who returned the look with a wink. Stephen felt a headache forming.

"Who is your new friend?" she asked, her voice low and amused, sitting down on the other side of Stephen.

"A statistical error," Stephen replied curtly.

Tony leaned forward, murmuring, "An irresistible mistake, in this case."

Christine raised an eyebrow, fighting back a laugh. Stephen rolled his eyes so hard he could almost see his own brain.

"It's going to be a long semester..." he murmured to himself, knowing with terrifying certainty that it was true.

---

The class finally came to an end, and Stephen was the first to stand up.
He put away his notes with the precision of someone who carefully manages their patience—every movement measured, controlled.

Behind him, Tony was still arguing with the professor about "design improvements" to the anatomical model used in class, as if he had truly entered the room on a divine mission to reinvent medicine.

Stephen adjusted his backpack and took a deep breath before leaving.

"You know, you could at least admit that I made your morning better." Tony's voice followed, still carrying that usual provocative tone.

"Improvement is too strong a word for what you do, Stark." Stephen didn't even bother to look. "Let's just say you... take up space."

Tony kept pace with him, unfazed. "Funny, it's usually the other way around. People usually say I light up the room."

"Probably because it catches fire afterwards." Stephen maintained a neutral tone, but the corner of his mouth almost betrayed a smile.

Tony realized. "Was that a joke, doctor? Wow, mark that day on the calendar."

" That was sarcasm. There's a difference."

They descended the main staircase together, the hallway teeming with students from all departments—laughter, voices, the smell of coffee and cheap fast food. The contrast between the two was almost comical: Stephen in his impeccable lab coat and focused expression; Tony in his leather jacket and with a cup of coffee that he insisted on swinging dangerously close to people.

"So, Dr. Perfection," Tony began, with the air of someone who had already planned his next provocation, "I heard you're the best student in the class. Is that true, or just self-promotion?"

Stephen gave him a brief, cold, sharp look. "I don't need marketing, Stark. Results speak for themselves."

"Modesty isn't your strong suit yet, is it?" Tony grinned, as if teasing were a sport. "I like that."

Stephen stopped walking. "What do you want, Stark?"

Tony shrugged casually, but his eyes held something beyond mockery—genuine curiosity, perhaps.
"Just trying to understand the Stephen Strange phenomenon. You seem like the type who studies until you dream about books and thinks socialization is a contagious disease."

" And you seem like the type who runs away from anything that requires mental effort."

"High five, doctor." Tony raised his hand. "That was a good one."

Stephen just rolled his eyes and kept walking. "Goodbye, Stark."

"See you later, Coffee #2."

"Don't call me that."

"It's too late now," Tony replied, laughing. "You should be grateful that I'm investing time in improving our friendship."

Stephen turned away for a moment, his gaze fixed. "I don't want your friendship."

Tony tilted his head, his smile fading slightly. "Yeah, nobody ever wants to," he murmured, more quietly. "Until they do."

Stephen didn't hear — or pretended not to hear.

He turned the corner and disappeared among the students, leaving Tony standing there, with the echo of his own voice and the cold residue of his coffee in his hand.

For a moment, the engineer was truly silent.
And that, in itself, was a rare event.

---

Minutes later, on the other side of campus, Christine found Stephen at the exit of the Medicine building.
" You seem... tense."

" Stark." That was all he replied, adjusting the strap of his backpack.

Christine smiled. "Ah. So it was one of those dates."

“‘Encounters’ isn’t the right word,” Stephen sighed. “‘Recurring accidents’ seems more appropriate.”

She chuckled softly, watching him with that patient look that only she possessed. "Perhaps the universe is trying to tell you something."

The universe needs to find someone else to annoy.

But even as he said this, Stephen realized he was still thinking about Stark's smile—annoying, but strangely impossible to ignore.

---

The boys' dormitory in Block B was an organized chaos—or, more precisely, chaos had chosen Tony Stark as its home.
Cables cluttered the floor, metal prototypes lay on the desk, two mugs of coffee from different days, and an old "Star Wars" poster hung crookedly on the wall.

Tony pushed the door shut with his shoulder, threw his backpack on the floor, and let himself fall into the swivel chair, letting out a sigh that was half exhaustion, half boredom.

"Too late for a genius to be so washed up," commented a voice behind him.

Rhodey, fresh out of the shower, with a towel hanging around his neck and a knowing smile, appeared in the doorway.

" You woke up too early, worked too much, talked too much. It's becoming a routine, Stark."

"I call it productivity." Tony spun in his chair and picked up a microchip from the table, examining it. "The world isn't going to reinvent itself, you know?"

The world won't end if you sleep for four hours straight.

Tony shrugged, but his gaze betrayed his weariness.
Rhodey, used to this since high school, simply crossed his arms and waited.

So, what happened today? Circuit test, professor nagging you, or someone called you arrogant again?

Tony gave a half-smile. "Last option."

"Hmm. And who was the victim this time?"

" Stephen Strange." Tony made the name sound like an expensive whiskey brand. " Medical student. Has the charm of an Excel spreadsheet, but talks like he owns the campus."

Rhodey laughed. "Ah, so someone finally managed to leave you speechless?"

"Not exactly." Tony swiveled his chair again, thoughtfully. "It's just... he's different."

" A different kind of “I’ll compete until I prove I’m the best”?"

"Exactly that type," Tony pointed out, smiling. "Smart, annoying, full of rules. The type that probably organizes their pencils by size."

"So, the kind of guy you're going to chase until he officially hates you."

" I think he already hates me."

Rhodey scoffed. "Do you see this as a problem or a challenge?"

Tony was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on some undefined point on the wall. "I haven't decided yet."

Rhodey just shook his head, laughing. "Stark, one day this habit of yours of poking serious people is going to get you into trouble."

"Or in a relationship." Tony raised his eyebrows provocatively. "Who knows?"

Are you a medical student? I want to see this miracle happen.

Tony pretended to think. "I like challenges. And he seems like one with a guaranteed diploma."

Rhodey threw the towel at him, laughing loudly. "Go take a shower, genius."

Tony looked away, laughing too — but the smile remained even when he was alone in the room.

He glanced at the tablet on the table. The screen still displayed the model of the surgical arm he was developing.
For a moment, he imagined the arrogant doctor analyzing it, correcting him with that clinical and irritatingly precise gaze.

---

The Ford University cafeteria was packed that late afternoon—the sounds of conversations, clinking trays, and laughter echoed everywhere. The aroma of questionable food mixed with freshly brewed coffee created the typical student atmosphere: chaotic, yet strangely familiar.

Stephen, Wong, and Scott were sitting at a table near the window.
Scott was talking enthusiastically, gesturing so much that he almost dropped his glass of juice three times in less than five minutes.

"Then the guy looks at me and says, “Mr. Lang, the university firewall wasn’t designed for penetration testing!” Scott mimicked the professor’s voice, eliciting a suppressed laugh from Wong. "And I’m like, “But that was so easy, professor, I thought it would be a challenge!”

Stephen sighed, pushing the tray slightly to the side. "You hacked into the university system for fun."

"Technically, I was testing vulnerabilities!" Scott raised his hands defensively. "And besides, I fixed the bug afterward."

"And yet, you almost got expelled," Wong said neutrally, while chewing. "A remarkable feat, considering the track record of chaos you've already amassed."

"Hey, please, no judgments at dinner." Scott pouted. "At least I keep life interesting."

Stephen looked up from his plate, his face tired, but with a hint of irony. "Interesting isn't the word I'd use."

"Oh, come on, Dr. Perfect. When was the last time you did something spontaneous?"

" I came to have dinner with you. That's more than enough."

Scott scoffed, feigning offense. "Wong, has he always been like this?"

"Since the first semester," the other replied calmly. "Although lately I've been... more distracted."

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Distracted?"

"Yes." Wong placed his chopsticks on the plate and observed him with that look that could pierce through any defense. "You've been more impatient, more... distracted."

Scott's eyes widened in excitement. "Wait, wait. This is serious! Stephen Strange distracted? The same guy who once corrected the professor for a comma mistake?"

"It wasn't a comma error," Stephen retorted automatically. "It was a unit of measurement error."

Wong simply sighed. "And even so, you didn't deny it."

Stephen glanced at the glass of water, slowly swirling it between his fingers. "I'm just tired. The semester started with double the workload."

Scott leaned across the table, smiling. "Tired... or thinking too much about someone?"

Stephen looked up, his gaze sharp as a scalpel. "Don't start, Lang."

"Ah, so there's someone here." Scott gave a mischievous smile. "Let me guess... Christine?"

" No."

" Hm... someone new then. Someone who drives you crazy, maybe?"

" Scott. " Stephen's voice sounded like a warning.

Wong watched silently, but the corner of his mouth betrayed amusement.
Scott, of course, couldn't stop. "Someone... sarcastic? Nosy? With ego problems the size of the campus?"

Stephen froze for a second. Just one second. But it was enough.

Scott grinned victoriously. "I knew it."

"He knows nothing," Stephen interrupted, but the slight blush on his face betrayed him. "And please, don't say his name."

"Him?" Scott's eyes widened, almost spitting out his juice. "The café-gate guy? That Stark guy?"

Wong placed his hand on Scott's shoulder before he could continue. "Lang, maybe you should concentrate on your food before it runs away from your plate."

Scott grumbled, but resumed eating, glancing curiously at Stephen from time to time.

A moment of silence. Only the distant sounds of conversations around us.

Stephen sighed, running a hand over his face. "He's... unbearable."

"This seems more like fascination than hatred," Wong said calmly.

"It's irritation," Stephen retorted quickly. "Scientifically proven."

Wong merely raised an eyebrow.
Scott, of course, didn't miss the chance: "Scientifically proven that you can't stop thinking about him, perhaps?"

Stephen let out a frustrated noise, getting up from the table. "I'll go get more coffee."

Wong and Scott watched him walk away, his lab coat swaying slightly with each step.

Scott whispered: "He's screwed, isn't he?"

Wong drank the tea calmly before replying: " Completely."

---

Stephen didn't go to get coffee.
He went to run away.

She walked down the cafeteria hallway, ignoring the noise of voices, the smell of food, and the laughter in the background.

He pushed open the door to the men's restroom, seeking a few minutes of silence.
The cold light reflected off the white tiles, the sound of the dripping faucet breaking the silence. He rested his hands on the sink and took a deep breath, trying to reorganize his thoughts.

"He's annoying. Arrogant. Unbearable."

But, for some reason, his brain stubbornly insisted on reproducing his smile, his drawling tone of voice, the way he seemed to see Stephen, even when he tried to annoy him.

Stephen closed his eyes.
"Ridiculous."

" Strange place for a doctor to relax."

The voice sounded behind him.

Stephen slowly opened his eyes, already recognizing the sound even before turning around.

Tony Stark was there, leaning against the wall, with that smile that defied all common sense.

"Are you stalking me?" Stephen asked, his tone dry.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "No. But apparently life has a great sense of humor."

Stephen turned completely around, his eyes narrowed. "And what are you doing in the bathroom?"

"The same thing any human being would presumably do." Tony smiled, tilting his head.

"I had to wash my hands. Or maybe fate is determined to make me annoy you a little more."

Fate isn't always so cruel.

"I disagree." Tony stepped forward casually, but close enough for Stephen to notice the mingled scent of coffee and expensive cologne. "You seem like the kind of guy who needs someone to shake things up a bit."

" And you seem like the kind of guy who thinks he's the solution to everything."

Tony chuckled softly. "Not for everything. Just for the fun part."

Stephen stared at him, without moving a muscle. But something in his posture wavered for an instant—a fraction of a second of hesitation, as if the air around him had changed density.

Tony noticed.
And, of course, he couldn't resist.

"Calm down, doctor, you don't need to look at me like that. I'm not going to kiss you in the university bathroom... yet."

"Still?" Stephen raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

"I like to keep my options open."

Stephen let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. "You're impossible."

"I prefer 'persistent'." Tony gave a half-smile.

Stephen shook his head and turned back to the sink.
"I need to get back to my desk before Scott starts a bet about why I'm gone."

"Ah, so there's an audience waiting?" Tony smiled. "I love a good audience."

There's nothing to watch.

Stephen stared at him in the mirror. Tony's reflection was right behind him—relaxed look, easy smile.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Only the sound of the dripping tap.

Tony broke the moment with a short smile. "Good night, doctor. Don't worry, I promise I won't spill anything this time."

He left, leaving behind the smell of coffee and a trail of confusion.

Stephen took a deep breath, trying to compose himself.
But his reflection in the mirror betrayed him—the slight blush on his face, his labored breathing.

"That's just irritation," he muttered. "Just irritation."

But deep down, he knew that wasn't quite it.

---

A few days later, Tony and Rhodey's dorm room was in its usual state: functional chaos.
Engineering books scattered across the bed, a pile of clothes that had been promising to be folded for days, and, in the center of the mess, Tony Stark—lying on his stomach, distractedly fiddling with his tablet while muttering to himself.

Rhodey, seated in the swivel chair, had already lost count of how many times he had heard the name Stephen Strange that week.

"Tony, if you don't ask the guy out, I swear I'll do it for you." His voice sounded firm, but with that touch of playful impatience.

Tony looked up from his tablet, crossing his arms. "You wouldn't dare."

Rhodey narrowed his eyes. "Test me."

Tony was silent for two seconds. Then, he raised an eyebrow, with that usual smug smile. "You wouldn't do that. It's not like you to sabotage your best friend's love life."

"Love life implies that you have one, Stark." Rhodey rested his elbows on his knees. "So far, you've only had a serious affair with your arrogance and a platonic crush on a medical student who hates you."

Tony scoffed. "He doesn't hate me. He... tolerates me."

" Oh, sure. Because when someone calls you "insufferable," "presumptuous," and a "walking disaster," it's love."

Tony threw a pillow at him.

Rhodey grabbed the pillow and threw it back forcefully.

Tony pretended to refocus on the tablet, but the glint in his eyes betrayed him.
"He's... intriguing. He's unlike anyone I've met here."

" Different because he doesn't flatter you."

Tony gave a half-smile. " Exactly."

Rhodey sighed. "Tony, sometimes I think you like people who can't stand you just to prove you can change their minds."

Tony didn't answer immediately.
The silence lasted long enough to become noticeable.

"Maybe," he finally admitted in a low voice. "But with him... I don't know. It's like trying to solve an impossible equation. And I love impossible equations."

Rhodey stared at him, half amused, half worried. "You're screwed, Stark."

Tony smiled, but his gaze remained distant. "It's not the first time."

Rhodey's cell phone vibrated, interrupting the moment. He picked up the device, read the message, and looked at his friend with a mischievous smile.
"Hm. Looks like the medical students are organizing a get-together with other colleges. Christine sent out the invitation."

Tony looked up. "Event? Like what?"

"A get-together. Food, music, cheap beer... and, of course, Stephen Strange."

Tony frowned, but his smile grew wider. "Hm. Fate is trying hard to give me opportunities."

"Or to cause you an emotional breakdown." Rhodey rolled his eyes. "Really?"

"Of course I'll go." Tony stood up, grabbing a random jacket. "I need to show that prim and proper doctor that engineers can have fun too."

Rhodey scoffed. "You're going to turn this into a bet, I know you."

"No bet." Tony adjusted his collar, looking at himself in the mirror. "Social experiment."

" With a romantic ending?"

Tony winked, heading out the door. "It depends on the sample."

When the door closed, Rhodey let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
"He pretends he's not in love, but he's already in the terminal stage."

---

"Don't even think about running away." Christine's voice sounded firm as Stephen appeared in the lab doorway, his lab coat still open and his expression tired.

He frowned, adjusting his glasses. "Run away from what, exactly?"

"From the medical school orientation party." Christine crossed her arms, her smile patient, but with that determined glint in her eyes. "And before you say anything, yes, you're going."

Stephen stopped, blinking slowly. "Christine, it's almost eight o'clock at night. I still have three chapters of anatomy to review and a report to finish."

"And you also have dark circles under your eyes the size of the Grand Canyon." She moved closer, taking the tablet from his hands before he could protest. "Seriously, Stephen, when was the last time you went out to have fun?"

"I don't need "fun," I need concentration."

"You need fresh air and human interaction," Christine sighed, nudging him slightly toward the door. "And before you use that 'I don't like crowds' excuse, let me tell you: there will be enough people for you to hide in a corner if you want."

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Oh, great. Then I can stay in the corner and pretend I'm not there."

"You can pretend all you want, but you'll be there." She grabbed his backpack from the chair and put it on his shoulders. "Hurry up."

" Christine… " he began, but she interrupted him with a look that would make even experienced surgeons obey.

"No "buts." I gave you a ride to that anatomy conference at six in the morning. You owe me one."

Stephen closed his eyes for a second, resigned. " Emotional blackmail."

 She smiled. " Now walk."

---

The medical school orientation party was taking place in the central courtyard, an event Stephen would have avoided like a contagious disease if it weren't for Christine and her relentless emotional blackmail. The courtyard was lit by strings of yellow lights, music pulsing from makeshift speakers. Students from various departments mingled, red plastic cups in hand, laughter echoing in the cold night.

Stephen stopped a few meters before entering the main circle, observing everything with a mixed expression of caution and boredom.
" It's… noisy."

"It's a party, Stephen, not a funeral." Christine rolled her eyes, handing him a glass containing what he expected to be soda. "Relax. No one here is going to bite you."

" I hope not literally."

"Only if you're lucky." She laughed, and he looked at her with disguised disapproval.

As they walked between the groups, Christine greeted several people—other medical students, some biology students, even the engineering staff who were near the makeshift bar.

Stephen stayed close to her, as if simply moving more than two meters away was a social death sentence.

"If you'd like, I can introduce you to someone," said Christine, taking a snack from a tray. "There are some nice people here."

Thank you, but I prefer to limit my interactions to unconscious patients.

She huffed, but the smile persisted. "You're impossible."

Then a familiar laugh cut through the air—a loud, confident laugh, impossible to ignore.
Stephen turned his face away, almost against his will.

Tony Stark was a few feet away, leaning against the counter, wearing a dark leather jacket and his usual smug smile. Rhodey was talking beside him, but Tony seemed distracted—until his eyes met Stephen's.

Time seemed to pause briefly.
Not a full second, but enough for a silent recognition and a spark of something undefined.

Tony arched an eyebrow, raising his glass in a silent, teasing greeting. Stephen, for his part, merely inclined his head, the most polite gesture he could muster before looking away, his heart beating a little faster.

Christine watched him for a moment, her smile widening. "Hm. Looks like tonight's going to be more interesting than I thought."

"Don't start," Stephen warned, taking a quick sip of his soda.

On the other side of the courtyard, Tony was already having an animated conversation with Rhodey, but without taking his eyes off the doctor.
The engineer smiled slightly, murmuring softly:

Rhodey simply shook his head. "This is going to be a problem."

Tony replied without looking at him: "I hope so."

---

The party was already in full swing.
Flashing lights, loud music, glasses piling up in forgotten corners.
Stephen's world was spinning gently. He, who had sworn to himself not to drink, had lost count at least an hour ago. Needing air and silence, he staggered towards the nearest building, searching for the bathroom.

Christine, smiling, danced with a group of colleagues, while Wong had mysteriously disappeared—probably in search of a quiet place.
Stephen, on the other hand, was beginning to feel the world spinning a little more than usual.

He needed air.
And silence.
And definitely fewer people.

Stumbling down the bathroom hallway, he took a deep breath, trying to regain his balance. The music still echoed off the walls, muffled. The distant sound of laughter contrasted with the cold tile and the echo of footsteps.

When he pushed the door open, he didn't expect to find anyone there.
But fate had other plans.

Tony Stark stood before the mirror, adjusting the collar of his jacket, his gaze lazy and his smile betraying one too many drinks.
"Doctor," he said, in that teasing tone that seemed to come naturally. "I thought you were the type to disappear before midnight."

Stephen blinked, taking a moment to recognize the figure before him.
"Stark..." he murmured, his voice drawling. "Of course. Of all the people I could find."

Tony leaned against the sink, arms crossed. "You seem... different."

"It's the alcohol." Stephen ran a hand through his hair, chuckling softly, a rare occurrence. "Apparently, I have a terrible tolerance for it."

"For me, it's progress." Tony stopped a few steps away from him, tilting his head. "You know, you become less insufferable when you stop trying to be perfect."

"And you..." Stephen blinked slowly, trying to organize his thoughts. "...become less annoying when you stop talking."

Tony smiled, taking another step and closing the space between them. The sounds of the party faded into a distant hum. The smell of alcohol and Tony's expensive cologne filled the air.
"Want me to try some?"

Stephen opened his mouth for a sarcastic reply, but the words died when Tony's lips met his. It was an unexpected, messy, and electric kiss. It wasn't gentle. It was a shock, a collision of two worlds, arrogance against arrogance, fire against ice. Tony's hands rose to cup his face, and Stephen's hands, to his own horror, found the soft fabric of his leather jacket, pulling him closer.

The distant sounds of the party became a blur, the smell of alcohol and expensive perfume mingling in the air.

Stephen wouldn't remember exactly what happened next—only fragments:
a touch on the arm, a lingering look, Tony's muffled laughter nearby.

---

The morning sun streamed through the curtains of the medical dorm, streaking the floor with golden lines.
Stephen opened his eyes slowly, his head throbbing.

My first thought was: I'm never drinking again.
The second came right after: Where am I?
The third came: Why am I wearing a t-shirt that isn't mine?

Lying on the floor was Tony Stark's leather jacket. The bitter taste of a hangover and something else—something that resembled whiskey and mint—made him groan.

There was a note on the desk.

"Painkiller in the drawer.
— T."

"Oh, no..." she murmured, bringing her hand to her face.

"What... happened?" he murmured to himself, massaging his temple.

Disjointed fragments came to his mind: Flashes. Twitching lights. Loud music. The bathroom. The smell of Tony's cologne. The texture of the jacket under his fingers. The warmth of other lips on his.

"Shit.. "

The bedroom door opened and Christine appeared, with a bottle of water and a smile that mixed concern and amusement.
"Good morning."

Stephen stared at her, exhausted. "What... happened yesterday?"

She chuckled softly. "Nothing incriminating. As far as I could see, you disappeared from the party for a while. I thought you'd left."

Stephen frowned, his heart racing. "Did I disappear?"

" About twenty minutes, maybe more. Then you reappeared, looking like you'd seen a ghost."

He looked at his own bed, at the jacket that definitely wasn't his, and swallowed hard. "I... think I saw something worse."

Christine raised an eyebrow. "Anyone?"

Stephen looked away, pulling the blanket up to his face. "I'd rather not comment."

She gave a short laugh. "Okay. Just don't tell me it was Stark."

Stephen remained silent. Too long.

Christine's eyes widened. "Stephen."

He groaned. "I'm not sure..."

"But there are suspicions," she added, amused. "Okay, I guess alcohol finally made you more sociable."

Stephen covered his face with the pillow, muttering something unintelligible.

Christine just smiled, leaving the room. "See you in class, Romeo."

As soon as she closed the door, Stephen sighed, resting his face in his hands.

---

The Ford University cafeteria was bustling, as always at lunchtime.
The clinking of cutlery, conversations, and laughter filled the air, mingled with the aroma of fresh coffee and potato chips.

Stephen walked with the tray in his hands, his gaze fixed on nothing.
It had been two days since the party, and since then he had been trying—in vain—to convince himself that nothing much had happened.
Just some confused flashes, perhaps a memory fabricated by alcohol.
Yes. Definitely that.

He spotted an empty table near the window and headed over, relieved not to see anyone he knew.
But the universe, as always, had a peculiar sense of humor.

"Look who decided to leave the library." The familiar voice sounded behind him, and Stephen's heart stopped for a second.

He turned slowly.
Tony Stark was there, tray in one hand, a smug smile on his face.

"Stark," Stephen forced a neutral tone. "What a coincidence."

"Coincidence?" Tony sat down across from him without asking permission. "I prefer to call it destiny."

Stephen sighed, stirring his coffee without looking at him.
"I don't believe in destiny."

"How convenient. That way you don't have to admit you're running away from him."

"I'm not running away from anything," he retorted, too quickly.

Tony tilted his head, his smile widening. "Of course not. That's why he blushed just from seeing me."

"It's annoying how full of yourself you are, you know?"

" And it's intriguing how much you avoid looking at me."

Stephen gripped the glass tighter than necessary. "Is there something you want, Stark?"

Tony leaned back in his chair, pretending to think. "Actually, yes. An answer."

"An answer?"

"Yes." He leaned slightly forward, his elbows resting on the table, his tone almost casual. "So... what grade would you give my performance?"

The coffee almost came out of Stephen's nose. He coughed, choking, his face burning, while Tony watched, satisfied.

"You..." Stephen cleared his throat, his voice faltering. "You have absolutely no shame, do you?"

"None," Tony smiled. "But I'm curious about your technical assessment."

" Evaluation..." Stephen closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. " We're not going to talk about that."

" Ah, so you admit there was an “it”.

Stephen froze.
Tony noticed—and his smile turned into an almost gentle half-smile. "Relax, Strange. I'm not going to go around announcing it." 

There was a brief silence.
Stephen stared at him, his dark eyes wavering between anger and confusion. "You know nothing about me."

"Maybe." Tony rested his chin on his hand, studying it calmly. "But I want to know."

Before Stephen could answer, his cell phone vibrated on the table. It was Christine.
He stood up abruptly, picking up his tray. "I have to go."

"Of course." Tony watched him walk away, still with the same serene smile. "But just so you know... I'd give it a ten."

Stephen paused for a moment, without turning around.
He took a deep breath, then continued on his way—and, if anyone looked closely, they would have seen the slight blush rising up his neck.