It would be nights when Steve was on a mission, leaving Tony alone with nothing but his own thoughts. Thoughts that lead to nightmares as the billionaire lay in his bed, eyes closed as he tosses and turns wildly, the smallest of whimpers escaping his lips.
It started with his father, leaving the house in a drunken frenzy, most likely in search of a bar to suck dry. Tony, just a young boy, sitting home alone, with nothing but his gadgets to tinker with as he waited for his father to come home. Hopefully he would.
Then the dream would shift and Tony would be older, spending his nights bar hopping before stumbling home drunk with a stranger to his bed. He wake up in the morning, with a warm body beside him yet he still felt alone.
And next, his head would be plunged into water, the liquid filling his lungs and making it impossible to breath. He'd be yanked from the water and screamed at in a language he couldn't understand, before being dunked again. Soon, they would deposit him on a small cot for the night, where he'd hug himself and hope someone would save him from the terrible and lonely place.
Finally, his dream would land him in the middle of the desert, wondering through the sandy terrain in hopes of finding someone to help him. He'd push through the mounds of sand with the sun beating down on him as he traveled this barren inferno, hoping to find someone. Anyone.
Then Tony would feel two strong arms wrap around him protectively, pulling him out of his nightmare into reality. Tony would turn to find Steve smiling down at him tiredly, kissing his forehead. "Miss me?" he would ask.
And Tony wouldn't be alone. Tony wouldn't be trapped in his past. He'd be here, wrapped in Steve's arms. Steve. His future.
"More than you could ever imagine," Tony would smiled back to him, burying his face in Steve's chest, closing his eyes and drifting off into a more calmer sleep.
-Keyboard Weaving Stories