Work Text:
Sid's house is just as much Tony's as Sid's. He's welcome in any of his mate's homes, of course, he's the sort of person that can make any parent love him. But Sid is his best mate, and he and Sid both know the Jenkins like Tony more than Sid. It's a bit sad, it's a bit fucked up, but it's true, and Tony thinks it's healthier to face uncomfortable truths head on. At least when it suits him.
So when he gets bored he walks the few blocks to Sid's without bothering to ring him first. If Sid's home he'll give a polite hello to his parents and go straight upstairs. Nine times out of ten, that's the plan. It's rare that Sid isn't home, most of his social life is going places that Tony has been invited. But it's possible, though it wouldn't matter. If he's not Tony'll spend the time talking with Mr Jenkins and getting fed by Mrs Jenkins. Either way, it's something to do.
Mr Jenkins holds out his hand to shake as Tony passes through the doorframe. Tony takes it firmly, even though he really just wants to roll his eyes. "The boy's upstairs," he says, and while it's not like Tony expects Mr Jenkins to say 'my wonderful son' it pisses him off that he can't even call Sid by his damn name.
"Alright then. I'll be seeing you later." Tony flashes a smile and tromps up the stairs.
He opens the door to Sid under the blankets. Well, his body and one hand is under the blankets, a bit of a tent formed where his fist is rapidly hitting the underside of the comforter. His other hand is right in front of his face, holding a picture. As soon as Sid notices Tony has walked in he twists and shoves the photo under his pillow. Like Tony isn't perfectly aware it's a photo of Michelle printed off from Facebook. Like everyone that remotely knows Sid doesn't know that he's head over heels with Michelle. Sometimes Sid is so pathetically oblivious to what his friends know about him.
It's nothing Tony hasn't seen before. About five times out of ten when Tony walks in Sid's getting off. "I'll just walk out and give you a minute?"
It's a code. If Sid says a minute would be good that means Tony's to go to the loo and make a snack of some sort in the kitchen, give him the time he needs to finish off. If Sid just says yeah thanks that means Sid's just going to toss on a pair of boxers and Tony can come back in and ignore the erection.
"Could you just come back later?"
Tony's never heard that response before. He doesn't like it. Something is happening here, there's something new that he hasn't picked up on yet, and he hates being ignorant of the facts. After all, how are you supposed to spin the truth for your own use if you don't know it?
He doesn't reply, doesn't even show the frown that wants to come out. Sid waits a moment and asks again "Come back later, okay?"
Tony doesn't move an inch. He won't leave until he figures out what's so abnormal about Sid wanking that all of a sudden he doesn't even want Tony in the same house as him.
"Look, just go home Tone. I'll come over later." He isn't asking, he's telling. Sid is giving him orders. What the fuck is going on?!
Tony can't remember the last time he felt this confused. Logically it shouldn't be that big a deal, Sid wants him to piss off so he can wank. But life isn't logical, and that's not the way he and Sid work. Sid doesn't ever tell him to go away. There has to be a reason for it. He glances around the room, trying to take mental snapshots so he can analyse everything once he gets home.
He's nearly on the stairs before it hits him. On the floor beside Sid's bed is a bottle of Wet. Sid doesn't use anything when he wanks, not even lotion or Vaseline.
There are a few ways he could go about this. He's Tony Stonem, master of manipulation, and off the top of his head he can think of five ways he can play this conversation. He rifles through his options before deciding on blunt. "So, what's with the lube?"
"I, er, Anwar convinced me he was right." Sid stumbles. Tony wants to laugh. Anwar couldn't convince a fish it needed water, never mind convincing a teenage male his personal technique was faulty. It's so obviously, ridiculously fake that it's like Sid's not even trying.
"Yeah? His hand felt better once it was slippery?" Which is absurd, Anwar's the most heterosexual person Tony knows. He says it solely to get Sid's knickers in a twist, and judging by the glare he has. Sid's about to stammer out a 'it wasn't like that' or something along those lines -it makes Tony feel so fucking relieved to know all Sid's lines again, those two minutes were a real mindfuck- when Tony speaks again. "Do you really want to go through this, or do you want to just tell me? Don't think I won't text Anwar asking him about handjobs."
"You're a shit." Sid snaps. Tony hadn't figured on testiness, Sid's more the embarrassment sort. Maybe things aren't back to normal yet.
"I'm a shit. Now tell me."
Sid sits up in his bed, blankets sliding along his bare chest to settle at his crotch. "I'll tell you if you'll get the fuck out of my room." Resigned, Tony can handle resigned too. He juts his chin affirmatively and waits to hear what he's already figured out.
"I was gonna finger myself. Alright? Happy now? Leave, please." And that's when Tony realises that just because he's already figured it out doesn't mean that it can't be hot as hell. He's always considered himself mostly straight. Any smart teenager has a few questions, wants a few experiments, but he's mostly straight. But he wants to see this. Sid isn't his type, he's got Michelle and Michelle's personality doesn't fit at all inside a Sid shaped person, but he wants this.
"Show me."
"Jesus, Tone. Leave."
"Show me."
There's something to be said about the sort of friendship they have that Sid's voice doesn't have any rage or shock in it, and that Tony's question leaves out the 'please' and actually doesn't sound like a question at all.
There's something to be said about the sort of friendship they have that after a minute of silence Sid pushes his blanket to the side to reveal his barely wilted cock.
It's strange that Sid's still hard. In a role reversal, a forced embarrassing conversation during an erection, Tony knows he would have been soft in seconds. Maybe Sid gets off on humiliation. It's an idea to save for later, but right now Tony is going to concentrate on Sid leaning over and fishing for the phallic looking bottle with one hand. He avoids looking at it for as long as possible, but he can't manage to flip the cap open, and when he finally does look he starts to blush. It's funny, and it's hot, and all of a sudden he wants to fuck Sid like nothing else. That's an idea to save for later too.
He doesn't say anything. It wouldn't matter if he did, Sid'll do this no matter what sort of comments pour from Tony's mouth. But it seems cruel to make Sid more uncomfortable, and while normally he doesn't really give a toss about the feelings of others, he doesn't want to make Sid feel bad about this. There's a thin line between Sid feeling funny about doing this and Sid feeling too bad about it to try it again, and Tony doesn't want to be the reason Sid stifles himself for the rest of his life.
Sid squeezes far too much of the liquid onto his hand, Tony can tell that from where he's standing. Which doesn't seem close enough, suddenly. So while Sid is coating his fingers with the pool in his palm, Tony moves to the corner of the bed.
It's fucking maddening, watching Sid's index finger slide into himself. Tony can't take his eyes off the sight. Normally he'd be berating himself for staring, only idiots stare at things, but the only behaviour checking voice in his head now is telling him he can't wank this time, only next time. This time it's too soon.
"Tony," Sid groans. He pulls his finger all the way out of his arse and moves the middle finger tight against it. They go in smoothly, and then Sid's wrist turns slightly and Sid's hips buck up quickly. "Shit. You need to try this."
Tony doesn't want to try it. He only wants to watch. He doesn't need to do this to himself, as long as Sid never stops doing it.
His eyes are torn for a moment when Sid starts using his other hand to wank. In the end they decide on flitting back and forth between arsehole and cock, with a few glances at Sid's face for good measure. He doesn't really need facial expressions to know that Sid is fucking loving this, but it's sexy anyway.
When Sid comes, Tony nearly loses it. It's not like he hasn't seen Michelle get off before, a hundred times, but this is different. The monitor in his head tells him he can't react too positively, or he'll scare Sid off. That's the last thing Tony wants. So he keeps his neutral expression on and after Sid wipes his hands on a tshirt on the floor, asks him if he wants to buy any spliff. He can do this, he's a master at ignoring what needs to be ignored, revealing what needs to be revealed.