Theory is Great but the Math Sucks by Bj Wolf
Author's Notes:
*Series: *IF
*Rating:* FRM/R
*Disclaimer: *Own nothing. Just borrowing. Will think about returning at sometime.
*Genre: *Slash for whole series - this story Pre-Slash
*Beta:* Ash/Jack
*Fandom: *Iron Man/Supernatural
*Pairing: *Tony Stark/Dean Winchester
*2nd Author's Note: *There are 5 series that show different perspectives of Dean Winchester from Supernatural and Tony Stark from Iron Man. They are being written under the idea of 'if you change this - what happens to their lives?' Each series is different. Each story posted will clearly be marked which series it belongs to and where in the timeline for the series the story is located.
*This Series:* IF - starts in Fall of 2002. And it follows the concept of ‘What If?' The Iron Man Series and the Supernatural Show - will not exist in this world. The Winchesters are not Hunters and Tony is not an Iron Monger.
*Rating:* FRM/R
*Disclaimer: *Own nothing. Just borrowing. Will think about returning at sometime.
*Genre: *Slash for whole series - this story Pre-Slash
*Beta:* Ash/Jack
*Fandom: *Iron Man/Supernatural
*Pairing: *Tony Stark/Dean Winchester
*2nd Author's Note: *There are 5 series that show different perspectives of Dean Winchester from Supernatural and Tony Stark from Iron Man. They are being written under the idea of 'if you change this - what happens to their lives?' Each series is different. Each story posted will clearly be marked which series it belongs to and where in the timeline for the series the story is located.
*This Series:* IF - starts in Fall of 2002. And it follows the concept of ‘What If?' The Iron Man Series and the Supernatural Show - will not exist in this world. The Winchesters are not Hunters and Tony is not an Iron Monger.
Theory is Great but the Math Sucks
by Bj Wolf
It was boring.
Boring as hell.
And Tony Stark hated boring.
He could barely stifle a yawn as he spoke to yet another audience of unresponsive, uncommunicative, uninterested students.
He had no idea any more why he put himself through this every year when his best efforts at trying to inspire future generations of mathematicians were nothing but one long and incredibly frustrating tour of supposedly brilliant universities, none of whom had ever actually fully grasped the genius behind his lecture series.
Oh they were quick enough to offer him their backing. The concept of miraculously developing clean energy was a sexy one to most organizations desperately seeking approval as being environmentally aware and ecologically 'green.'
It helped that they were willing to offer him researchers and facilities and any number of interns seeking extra credit to assist him in his work, especially when his own father had determined he shouldn't have an easy life living off the wealth that Stark Industries generated on an annual basis.
*'No son who bears my name will spend his days in idle contemplation of greater things. If you won't follow my example, young man, you can earn your own respect instead of living on mine.'
*
Yeah...
Tony grimaced at the memory.
...that was why he was doing this.
Dean stepped into the lecture hall. He was determined to find his brother and just get out. Schools made him nervous, especially one as prestigious as Harvard.
He smiled when he saw Sam in the back row, and resisted the urge to give him a little wave.
Great. So he couldn't get to him without making a scene. Brilliant.
Dean leaned against the wall instead and settled down to wait, hoping to meld into the paintwork, but his attention turned to the lecturer, who sounded more bored than annoyed.
Glancing over the large blackboards arranged along the stage, his eyes went wide. It had been a while since he’d seen that complex an equation.
Dude?
What the hell?
He frowned.
It was all wrong.
Just wrong.
*'Great,'* Tony thought sourly, spotting someone lurking in the doorway, *'even the latecomers aren't interested.'*
His gaze flickered to the clock on the back wall. Another ten more interminable minutes and it would be done with.
He'd be moving on to...?
He'd lost track, but it didn't matter.
He had Pepper.
She kept him organized, but in the end it would just be another university, another campus and another round of lectures repeated like a CD stuck on replay.
His feet were aching.
He needed a drink.
He'd need several if he had to look at one more mindless student coming to him for a summer internship and trying to pretend the equations on the boards behind him actually made sense.
Wait...
Wait!
His eyes narrowed as the latecomer stepped forward, walked straight onto the stage as though he wasn't even there, and promptly started scrubbing out large sections of the material with his sleeve before hunting around for chalk.
"Something you need?" he asked dryly.
Dean looked over at the guy and shrugged. "It's all wrong."
He erased part of the equation, snagged the chalk he was offered and started working, tapping furiously at the blackboard and muttering to himself.
"This one is front to back. I mean really obvious as if..." He then moved to the last part of the equation then paused. "This… this is genius. I'd never have gotten to that, but something's off. The numbers aren't speaking to each other."
Dean looked over at the lecturer, a grin wide on his face. It had been a while since he played with this caliber of numbers, but to his relief, the dude didn't stop him.
He was a little too astonished to even speak.
Just recently it had become a bad habit for Tony to put sections of his work the wrong way round on the blackboards; a trick designed to see if anyone was awake enough to notice.
This kid had noticed.
This kid who looked more like he belonged in Auto Shop than Advanced Mathematics.
Tony watched as a brilliant series of phrases that almost concluded his argument flowed from the chalk.
And when the kid grinned at him, he joined in, caught up in the moment.
"Almost. Try this..."
They stood side by side, their backs to the auditorium, working together as though they'd been doing it for years.
Dean lost himself in the numbers. These were the moments of peace and quiet that he craved but so rarely found. The numbers blocked out all the yelling, all the accusations, all the disappointments from his life that were thrown back at him every time he opened his damn mouth at home.
When they stepped back and looked at the equation, neither could contain a burst of laughter.
Though Dean didn't exactly know what the equation was for yet, he felt a sense of achievement that made his heart pound loud in his ears.
"So what exactly did we just figure out?" he asked curiously, smirking slightly. "I seriously doubt it was the fundamental equation for brewing beer or something."
When the students started to snicker, Tony turned and glared. "That's it, we're through here. Go get caffeinated." He waved them away as though they were minor irritants before giving Dean his full attention again. "Step back a bit more," he suggested encouragingly. "Read the whole series. What do you THINK this is?"
Dean had always been good with the math, but not necessarily the reason behind it. He could never quite grasp the written out theories and always tended to hit the right answer without showing the work. He remembered the one teacher who sat with him and helped him read the math in ways he could understand, but those moments were rare. Dean looked at the equation and thought through each section, remembering what each represented as he struggled to put it all together...
He glanced back at Tony. "This is an energy equation." He looked back at the boards. It was complex yet elegant in design; all the raw elements laid out in a way that made more sense the longer you saw the whole picture. "Well fuck."
Behind them people were shuffling out and muttering to themselves.
Tony ignored them.
"Yes. That's it. We're almost ready to show the theoretical speeds needed for reactive plasma flow to generate energy."
Dean blinked at him a few times then back at the board. "Which means what...?"
Grinning, he glanced back at the lecturer, just as Sammy walked toward them.
Crap.
He grimaced, and handed the chalk back before moving down the steps to his brother. He paused for a moment then looked back up at the stage. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to ruin your lecture or anything."
"No, no! No you didn't. You saved it from the pits of utter boredom and banality." Tony threw the chalk to one side, unable to believe his genius was about to walk away. "You're a student here, right? Where can I find you?"
Dean shook his head, not sure what to say. "Ahh..." He blushed awkwardly. He hadn't graduated high school, so there was no way he'd ever get into a place like Harvard. He glanced over at Sam for some backup. "My brother here is the student, I'm just the mechanic."
"Dean!" Sam frowned at his sibling in very obvious irritation. "You're more than that. God, I wish you would stop listening to dad."
"Dude, can we not have this argument right now?" Dean glared at him, the bottom step giving him equal height to look Sam in the eye for once.
But Sam being Sam, totally ignored him. "Sir, he's not a student here, but I think he's proved he doesn't need to be."
"Wait! What?" Tony wasn't expecting a brother. Or a mechanic. "You're not a student? Then who the hell are you?"
The hall had emptied and they were clearly trying to escape too, but when the door opened one more time it was an older man who walked in, or rather, he stormed in like he owned the place, his jacket tails flying out behind him.
Dean turned.
His blood froze.
John Fucking Winchester.
He knew dad wouldn't leave it well enough alone. No one told him to fuck off and actually walked out of the house in disobedience to a direct order.
Not ever.
Dean had figured he would just have to face John's wrath when he got back, which he'd rather hoped would've given him plenty of time to find some way to apologize before he got his ass kicked, but now John Winchester was at Harvard.
*'Let the ass-kicking commence,'* he thought sourly.
"Dad." Dean barely got the word out before a fist collided with his jaw, sending him stumbling two steps back against Sammy's broad chest.
"I will not be disobeyed, boy!" John yelled, moving to grab his eldest son, only to find himself stopped by a big burly man in a crisply tailored gray suit. He looked up and snarled. "Get the fuck out of my way. I'm here for my son!"
"You want me to escort him out, boss?" Happy asked, his eyes not leaving the angry, unshaven individual in front of him.
Tony's brain had always worked extraordinarily fast, and in a handful of seconds he'd had to figure out that his genius was named Dean, he had a brother at Harvard and a dad with anger management and abuse issues. He managed to nod briskly at his bodyguard and gesture for Pepper to call Security.
Whatever was going on, it was wrong on so many levels he hardly knew where to start.
Happy very obligingly grabbed John Winchester by the shoulders and though the older man struggled, the former boxer spun him round and propelled him swiftly out the door, which slammed shut behind them.
Dean groaned, finding himself in Sammy's arms, unable to get away and hide.
He just wanted to go hide some place and never come out.
"Dean?" Sam lifted his brother's chin, grimacing when he saw blood dripping from the cut on his cheek, courtesy of dad's military ring. "Damn it, Dean, why didn't you tell me?"
"When exactly?" Dean pulled away from Sam and turned his back. "I just got here and..." He waved toward the blackboards. "I didn't think he'd follow me so fast."
Sam was very thankful dad wasn't in the room at that moment or he would've flattened him and not worried about the consequences. He'd been wanting to do it for years anyway. "Why did he follow you?"
"I told him I was coming to see you. He didn't want me ruining your life. You have a chance to be something here. You didn't need your stupid loser brother following behind like a lost dog." Dean snorted. That was a direct quote from John Winchester. Just saying it made him feel like he was still four years old. "I told him to fuck off and left anyway."
Sam blinked then grinned. "Finally you stood up to the asshole!"
Dean looked over his shoulder at him and rolled his eyes.
"And dude..." Sam pointed to the boards. "Far from you being the stupid brother following me around, you just showed up Harvard's entire math department."
Tony had been watching the two of them. "Yes you did," he said suddenly, hands on his hips. "Now d'you want to tell me why my bodyguard just escorted your father out of here?"
"Because he's a control freak sonofabitch," Sam muttered darkly.
"Sammy!" Dean gave his brother a stern stare and turned to Tony. "John Winchester doesn't take no for an answer, that's all. It's a misunderstanding. I apologize for..." He waved his hand toward the door as with sudden startling clarity he realized he couldn't go home.
He swayed on his feet for a second.
Tony pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it over, pressing it into Dean's palm, gesturing that he should use it to wipe the blood on his cheek. "The apology isn't yours to make," he said firmly. "We have to talk."
Dean grimaced as he dabbed at his jaw. "About what?"
Tony wasn't sure if he was being dense or difficult.
Or both.
He wanted to reply 'about how that wasn't the first time he's hit you.'
Instead what came out was, "Your skill with numbers."
Pepper slipped around behind him as the door opened and Happy lurked there in the daylight.
She'd cover the situation for her boss.
She always did.
There was some commotion going on that clearly had nothing to do with Clean Energy and everything to do with John Winchester.
The yelling and the expletives were something of a giveaway.
She'd already run a google search on the name and instructed Jarvis to start investigating on police databases and criminal histories. Something told her Mr. Winchester Sr. would have a record somewhere.
And not in a good way.
Dean stared at the lecturer. "My what?"
The guy had to be joking.
There was a loud crash and a violent curse from just outside. Sam rolled his eyes hoping that John was getting a smack down from the bodyguard.
Dean just continued to stare at the guy whose class he'd interrupted. "My father comes in here pissed as hell, pops me one in the face and you don't even blink. You just have him removed like it's no big deal, and now you want to talk math?"
Tony snorted. "What? You want a hug and a shoulder to cry on while I pat your back and tell you it's all going to be okay?"
In truth he wanted to go watch Happy at work as that would have at least granted him a small sense of personal satisfaction in the matter.
Violence was the last resort of the incompetent as far as he was concerned, yet now and then its application was more than necessary. And hitting your son because you could was unacceptable.
Period.
Dean pouted, batting his eyelashes. "No hug?"
Tony totally called him on it, and though he had to stand on tip toes to reach, he swept Dean into a tight embrace, pulling his head down to his shoulder as he rubbed his back between his shoulder blades and murmured 'there there' in his ear like a parent to a distraught child.
Sammy turned away and lowered his head so his hair fell in his eyes to disguise his quiet laughter.
Dean pulled away in a fluster. "Dude!" Though he couldn't help grinning, laughter escaping him easily despite the pain across his mouth.
Part of him, a deep hidden part of him, had leaned into the embrace.
But it was only for a moment.
He shook his head, then slipped the now bloody handkerchief back into Tony's pocket. "So math? You have more equations?" He shrugged. "It's not like I have anything else to do."
Tony took great pains to put the handkerchief back into Dean's hand. Then he cut right to the chase.
"Come work for me. Use that mind of yours on something better than running from your father." For a moment, something dangerous flashed across Dean's green eyes and it startled him. "You're a genius. If you're not studying here, I can use you."
Dean bit back the scathing comment on the tip of his tongue.
This wasn't the first time he'd imagined trying to get away from John Winchester.
But this time, it was a real chance.
"Use me how?" he asked seriously.
"I need a research assistant who actually knows what I'm doing, and knows how to help me. One who doesn't stand around looking cute just to get a course credit. I need someone who'll argue back, correct me, inspire me. Look at what we did in just ten minutes." Tony flailed a little as he
gestured to the blackboards. "I've never met anyone who could do that with me. Ever. Work for me."
It wasn't a question.
It wasn't a suggestion.
It was a demand.
Dean looked at the equations. He'd felt so alive working with someone who knew what he was talking about; someone who pushed for more answers instead of throwing him out for being a smart ass or a moron who couldn't learn anything.
There really wasn't much to think about.
He glanced up at Sammy, whose eyes were wide with anticipation.
Dean held out his hand. "You got yourself a deal, Mr...?"
"Stark." Tony grinned, a broad and charming smile that lit up his face.
He shook Dean's hand firmly, and their eyes locked.
Life would never be the same again.
end