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Requested on tumblr by an anon that wanted a story where Tony was just a little too late to help Steve.
Beta'd by WithinHerHeart
The steady beeping of the heart monitor seemed to echo and consume the small sterilised room, creating this ever increasing tension that seemed to be suffocating to Tony. Every steady noise the machine emitted, that filled the silence, pounded at his skull, reminding him of how much damage can be caused by being a second too late, just a fraction of a moment off, can do.
Tucked into the surprising large bed in the medical wards of S.H.I.E.L.D's base, Steve Rogers – no longer the powerful force of Captain America– lay still, helpless, vulnerable, pale and unconscious, on the verge of death – and it was entirely his fault.
The doombots had been coming in by the dozen and he'd been assisting Cap with the constant number that Hawkeye hadn't managed to shoot out of the sky, to Thor, Black Widow and Hulk on the lower grounds of upstateNew York. He hadn't even noticed when two, three, maybe more, had joined forces and turned their attention to overwhelming the super solider. The sudden cry that had broken through the crashes and explosion still reverberated around his mind, and he had to shake his head to fight off the heart stopping sight of the eerily motionless CaptainAmericaas the smoke and dust cleared.
Even though he knew he should just take that shower he was in desperate need for – pack away his suit which now sit dismantled in the corner of the room – attend the debriefing session, as the rest of the Avengers had, but he just couldn't bring himself to leave the injured man alone. Maybe it was because he knew how much Steve didn't want to wake up alone again, to find out time had passed him by while he remained the same; or maybe it was because he felt guilty and he knew he would be unable to rest probably until he knew the man was going to wake up. Maybe it was because he couldn't bear to leave his side, just in case this was the last moments he got to spend with Steve Rogers…
The chair was positioned at the right side of the bed, turned so he could watch the relaxed facial features for any kind of movement, any kind of sign that would show he was returning to him. His dark eyes scanned across the large form, noting the frayed edges of the hospital gown and sheets, and the fading scars along his strong arms and the around his neck. Hands, curved downwards, were within reaching distance and once more, Tony felt the urge to grab one, to feel the heavy weight in the palm of his hand, just to know he was still there – asleep, but still there. Tony's fingers flexed on his knees, itching to touch, and he kept his composure for a few more seconds before giving in to the urge. He released a small breath at the feeling, shifting his hand to get a proper grip. His fingers moved in absentminded circles around the skin they touched, as Tony turned his attention back to his face once more.
His thoughts were jumbled, just white noise, but now that he could hold onto Steve, it was almost as if he could make sense of the words, of his emotions. His breathing shuddered as it released and he tightened his grip, reaching out with his free hand to cover the rest of the limb. He raised it off the sheets and pressed the knuckles to his lips. The pale skin was smooth beneath his chapped lips, his breath warming everything it touched.
"Don't die," the words escaped him in a whispered voice that Tony barely recognized as his own. He appeared surprised at first, but the phase seemed to have opened a flood gate and he couldn't stop himself from continuing. He cleared his voice to remove the some of the gruffness and lowered the hand from his mouth ever so slightly. "Don't die," he repeated, "I mean, w-what would I do with myself if I didn't have you to tell me I'm working too hard, or to manhandle me to bed every night? I'd probably end up drinking myself into a stupor, o-or accidently wielding off my hand with a blow torch because I've spent too much time in the lab. I suppose Pepper could take over again, but it wouldn't be the same with you…" he paused, licking his lips, "…I guess I should say sorry, while you're still asleep and I don't have to see that annoying look again. And you know what one I mean – eyebrow arched, smirking, amused – it's annoying, you should probably reconsider using it on a regular basis. Wouldn't want it to get stuck…I am sorry, Steve. You said I should pay more attention to what goes on around me – although I'm sure you were talking mostly about thinking about people's reactions before I say something, but I'm pretty sure it applies in this situation as well. If I could go back in time, or take your place, I would, but instead I guess I just have to stay here and make sure you get your 40's ass out of that bed as soon as possible – I'm sorry you have to suffer that as well," a weak smile crossed his face, "But, hey, look at it this way, the quicker you wake up, the quicker you don't have my hear my voice echoing around that surprisingly hard head of yours…so, yeah, don't die. I'd…I'd miss you, a lot, and I hope to God you don't remember any of this when you wake up, because I will deny everything if asked, but you've grown on me Cap. I-I care about you, probably a lot more than I do most people, and I'm not sure what I'd do if you were…if I didn't have you anymore…" Tony shifted awkwardly, "So, um, yeah, that's all I've got to say for the moment. Give me a couple more hours and I'll soothe you with my dulcet tones once more, be prepared, okay?"
Even though Tony knew there would be no response, he couldn't stop himself from peering hopefully up at the man's handsome face, searching desperately for any kind of movement to show Steve could hear what he was saying. Tony sighed, disappointment clear in the breath, and lowered his head, pressing another kiss to the knuckles.
With his head bowed, he didn't notice the slight twitch of Steve's lips into a ghost of a smile.
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