This story has been edited and slightly rewritten from its original text for the purpose of better storytelling. Nothing major has been changed for the convinience of the readers. Thank you!
It's been two months since Tony Stark last saw his friend's face. "Friend" is a peculiar word to use, since it no longer has any meaning to him. Friends don't betray. Friends don't pound each other's faces into the ground. Friends don't stare at one another the way they had, with faces so damaged, mouths so wide open, eyes so hurt.
It pains Tony see that reoccurring face, Steve Roger's face, every time he closes his eyes. When he tries to sleep, dreams are replaced with images of Steve running off with Bucky. When he pledges allegiance to the United States of America each morning, his chest aches; right where he was hit with Steve's shield.
Right. The shield. Tony locked it up in a safe place. He wanted to see the day it gets placed back in Steve's hands, however long that may take.
He never intended to hurt Steve; he cared about the bastard more than he'll ever admit. The hate he originally bore for Rogers was all Barnes' fault. Tony hated the fact that Steve ran off with Bucky even though Steve was clearly conscious of how dangerous the decision was. Barnes was a bad influence for him, and Steve knew it; that's what's pissing Tony off. Bucky is untrustworthy, misleading, and a pain in the back. Bucky is putting Steve in danger. And Steve doesn't do anything about it.
Tony opened his eyes. He didn't want to see that face again–a face so damaged, mouth so wide open, eyes so hurt. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He should really get to sleep, but why would he want to? There are no meetings tomorrow, no dates, no dinners, there probably won't even be an emergency. The world has been surprisingly peaceful since Steve and Bucky disappeared.
The Sokovia Accords? B.S. Tony explained everything to Secretary Thaddeus Ross. Then he told the U.N. Then he even addressed the world on international television. But the hardest part was explaining himself to the other Avengers.
With the best insurance, best lawyers, and best fanbase support in all of North America, Tony was able to cover most of the damage caused during their little war. None of his buddies were considered criminals anymore; not even Steve. Not even Bucky.
T'Challa was coronated.
Clint finally took his kids skiing.
Everyone was fine. Except Tony.
Because Tony was trying to fall asleep, even though he didn't want to. It was mostly his conscience keeping him awake (And no, for the record, his conscience was not Antman hanging out in his armor), but there was also this noise that was bothering him. And after a while, that small noise became the main source of his discomfort. The sound was like a buzz, followed by a little ding. It grew louder.
Tony sat straight up in his bed. It was the flip-phone Steve gave him. It was ringing.
He ran straight for his nightstand and grabbed it the object.
But then it occurred to Tony: why was Steve calling him? Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around, in case of emergency? He began to feel very sick, thinking of Steve being caught up in some emergency. He answered the phone.
"Hello? Steve?"
The reply was hoarse, pained, "He's gone. It's over."
Stark felt a lump rise in his throat.
"You mean-"
"Bucky. Yeah."
"Oh," Tony heard Steve let out a shuddering breath from the other line. It made his chest ache all over again, "I'm so sorry, Cap."
There was an eerie silence.
"Will you be an Avenger again?"
"Gee, Stark. That's awfully sudden."
"I know it is, pal, but we-"
"-Have you forgotten I'm a criminal?"
"You're not. I explained everything, everyone believed me. The Accords is history, I tell you. Your name is cleared, Rogers," with a breath, he added, "Barnes' too."
"When were our names cleared?"
"Officially, two weeks ago."
"So he died a saint, he'd be glad to hear that, you know."
"I-I'm sure he would be."
"If the whole Civil War fued hadn't occurred, you two would've got along. I guarantee. You're both so persistent. So difficult," Steve let out a sniff, indicating that he had been crying, "Now," he breathed, "about being an Avenger–"
"–Woah, woah woah. You don't need to worry about it, Rogers. I can pick you up, where are you?"
"Stark."
"Would you rather fly by yourself? I can tell JARVIS to send a self-driving chopper."
"Stark, I don't know."
"C'mon. What's holding you back, Rogers?"
"Him."
"Oh," Tony began to feel guilty, very guilty. Bucky Barnes had meant almost everything to Steve, especially after Peggy had passed away. Tony had put Steve through hell over Bucky. Yet the bastard kept fighting back, he never gave up. He broke the law, he betrayed his team, and he gave up his life of fame and heroic title for Bucky. And now he was dead.
Stark eased his voice, "It's okay, Spangles. I'm sending a Stark-Chopper to your location right now. JARVIS will identify you from your cell phone signal. You don't need to tell me where you are if you don't want to."
"Stark."
Tony knew Steve was too polite to be rude. That was a weakness, "Pretty please? I already sent the helicopter," he lied.
The other line was silent for about a minute. Tony almost thought that Steve had hung up, but then he heard him give another shuddering sigh. The mere sound made his bones chill.
"Alright. Send the chopper. I'm coming home."
The other line cut off.
Tony smiled, his friend was coming home. The word began to have a definition again. Friend. It was nice to think of Steve as a friend again.
The sound of helicopter wings penetrated Stark Tower. The pitter-patters of Avengers bolting down linoleum flooring were heard too, but not to Tony. All he wanted to listen to was the chopper, to make sure it landed safely. He was already on the roof, hovering by the helicopter pad. Tony watched it fly into view before any of the Avengers even made it beside him.
They all watched as the chopper landed.
But only Tony saw Steve's grace as he walked off the chopper. Even with his face recessed. Even with his ribs exposed. Even with his eyes sunken. Tony was still able to see how pretty Steve was.
But he was also able to see how sad he was. Remorse was written all over his face, it was the same stunned expression Tony saw every time he blinked. Except this time, it wasn't because of Stark that Rogers was broken, it was because of Barnes.
Tony frowned.
"There you go!" Wanda cheered, handing off a mug of coffee to Steve. The kid was clearly enthusiastic because of Steve's return. Steve, however, was frowning. He took the coffee cup, "Thank you, Wanda."
Thank you. A smile formed on Tony's neatly shaven face. Steve was still unnecessarily polite, after everything he has been through.
Natasha, too, noticed this. She spoke Tony's mind for him, "Steve," she said, "you can be selfish every now and then, you know?"
Steve put on one of those fake smiles, "No, thank you."
They all chuckled a little. Rhodey, who had been sipping coffee, laughed to the point where he spit his drink all over Clint. The archer screamed, claiming he was being burnt alive. Tony kept laughing; he had missed Steve. The guy could always start a scene, even without meaning to.
He and the clad were assembled in the kitchen. Steve was seated with his legs crossed at the table while everyone else was scattered around, sitting or standing wherever the heck they wanted to.
Tony was perched like a bird on the island table, stirring a black coffee. He kept glancing back to Steve, looking for signs of discomfort, depression, loneliness, or anything at all. As of right now, the captain has been acting like his old self. But hey, the guy never displayed his feelings in the first place, not even before the Civil War, so it was hard to tell what was going on with him.
Again, just too damn polite.
"So Steve," Wanda began, blowing on her herbal tea, "Where did you stay when you were with Barnes?"
The captain's eyes suddenly went lifeless. His fingers tightened around the mug. He kept his jaw clenched and uttered nothing.
In the past, Tony always used to get an uneasy feeling whenever he saw Barnes. That same feeling intensified whenever Barnes was with Steve. Now, the same upsetting feeling flared through his body. Except Bucky wasn't here, Wanda was.
Tony shot an angry, defying glare at Wanda, who backed away with her head low. Tony slipped into the empty chair beside Steve and looked to the latter, "Hey, it's alright, okay? Like I said, you don't have to tell anyone if you don't wanna."
He pursed his lips, "Thanks, Stark."
"Anytime, Capsicle."
Everyone took turns asking questions and sharing stories, very slowly and with ease. Natasha filled Steve in on everything he's missed. The Sokovia Accords' rejection, the coronation, all those things that Tony wished Steve had been there for. From what Stark could detect, the Avengers were thinking wisely about the questions they asked Steve. They all knew Barnes died, but only Natasha knew how important he was to Rogers. They've never had a fragile Steve before. It was alien how careful the they were. Conversation went surprisingly great.
But then Sam blew it.
"How'd he die?"
Tony looked to Steve worriedly. He was preparing to catch him in case the lad fell out of his chair sobbing. He was ready for him to chuck the coffee mug at someone. But he just sat there, unshaken. Steve's hands fidgeted a little. Then he answered, with a soft voice:
"Suicide."
The only sound that could be heard was Natasha setting down her mug to take a breather.
Sam's eyes widened. He moved to stand by Steve, as if to apologize. But Clint eased up and (thankfully) removed the Falcon from the room. This went unnoticed by Steve Rogers.
"I-I know you're surprised, I was too. It's nothing, don't worry about it," Steve said quickly, folding his hands together.
Natasha was seated on Steve's other side. She put her hand on his shoulder, "Steve, we're obviously going to worry about this if it's bothering you."
"Nat's right," agreed Tony.
Steve wasn't listening. His hands were still shaking, even though they were gingerly folded together. His mind was someplace else. He shook his head inattentively, "I should have noticed something was off with him, you know? He was acting strange, but I wasn't worried. I should've been worried."
"It wasn't your fault," Natasha soothed, she was always so much better than Tony when it came to comfort, as surprising as it was. Tony decided he'd leave it up to her to help Steve.
"There was nothing you could do. You did your best to be a good friend, and that's what he needed," she gave his shoulder a pat, "He was lucky to have you as his friend."
There was that word again: friend.
Steve barely registered her words, "He-He didn't even talk to me about it. I thought he trusted me enough. He was just up and-" he sniffed.
He let out a deep breath, mimicking the kind of breaths Bruce would practice. He rubbed his temple with one hand, ignoring how rapidly it was shaking, "I'm sorry. I said too much."
"Steve."
"No, Natasha. I-" he took a deep breath, "Excuse me," he rose from the table.
Tony couldn't help but lunge for him at that moment. He shot up and grabbed his hand, "Steve!"
Steve backed away, retracting his hand. Tony took his hand back, and locked it in his own, "If you have something on your mind, you say it. Understand?"
"Tony, what're you doing?" mumbled Natasha in the background.
Tony chose to ignore her, his eyes focused on only Steve. The blonde was giving him some weird look, somewhat offended, somewhat uncomfortable. He looked like he was preparing to flee at any second.
But Tony held onto his hand, it was finally starting to cease quivering. His hand was warm, warmer than Tony had thought it would be. It was surprisingly soft, too. Though the nails could probably use a trim. He made a mental note to schedule Steve a manicure. Why was it Tony was noticing this?
Steve closed his eyes for a moment, "Fine. I'll speak my mind. I promise."
"'Bout time." muttered Tony.
"Can you let go of my hand now?"
"Sure thing, Capsicle."
Steve tucked his hands inside the pockets of his S.H.I.E.L.D. sweatshirt, "I never understood that nickname."
"It's like 'cap' from 'captain.'"
"Where did the second half come from?"
Tony shrugged, "I don't know. 'Popsicle?'"
"I hate Popsicles."
"'Hate' is a strong word, Cap!" shouted Sam.
He scrunched up his face at him, "Well, it's the right word."
And just like that, the mini episode Steve almost had was over before it even started. Tony saw to it that another incident wouldn't happen again, in case he couldn't prevent an attack next time. He knew there would be a next time.
Tony gave Sam a super-mega wedgie for the insensitive thing he asked. It was great. Natasha called Stark immature, but he could be called other things and it would still be worth it.
Tony scheduled a manicure for Steve as he promised himself. He just realized that he's probably never had a modern manicure before. He probably has not ever had a manicure at all.
It's ironic that he has just realized that now, since the manicure was currently in progress.
Tony paused. He looked up to the speakers on the ceiling, "JARVIS, change Steve's nail job to a mani-pedi."
"Doing this will lengthen the appointment by approximately half an hour." JARVIS stated.
"I know." Tony grinned.
"Done."
It wasn't that Tony didn't want the cap around. In fact, it was the opposite. He was just going to do some snooping.
Tony opened Steve's bedroom door, closing the door behind him, and made for the duffel bag on the bed. Steve had that very duffel bag with him when he got off the chopper.
Everyone knew the captain was secretive. He hid almost everything from everyone. At least, everything off his files, which, frankly, wasn't much besides his personal life. Now, Tony is no idiot, he knows that all the stress that Steve builds up has to exit somewhere. Most likely a diary. It would make sense if Steve had a diary, his vocabulary is stupendous. And Stark is gonna find that diary.
And no, Tony is not being creepy. He's only trying to figure out more about what Steve is going through. The lad would most likely shut down if Stark asked him directly, either that or ignore him forever. So Tony just had to snoop. Steve would understand, wouldn't he? He wasn't exactly stalking, was he?
He unzipped the bag. Inside was mostly coats, cheap, sweaty coats. The keys to Steve's helluva getaway car were in there too. Tony dug his hand around the bag, until he felt what he was looking for.
He pulled out a notebook. It was dark red, with a fading black star in the center. Odd. Tony guessed it would've looked more patriotic. He flipped open the first page.
It was written in Russian. Or Ukrainian or Belarusian or whatever. But it was composed of what was certainly Russian characters. On every page, everywhere, it was all Russian. Not all of it was even in the same handwriting. Did he and Bucky both write in this, perhaps?
"How peculiar," he mumbled.
"Sir," JARVIS chimed in.
"Yeah, what?" he whined.
"Captain Rogers is approaching his bedroom. He left the manicure-pedicure early for personal reasons."
"What?"
"I suggest leaving soon."
"Naw dip, JARVIS."
Clearly in a hurry, Tony took a picture of the first page with his smartphone. He shoved the notebook under the coats and zipped the duffel bag up. Stark made for the door, then bolted down the hall. He stopped when he arrived at a certain door, a black one with a cold metal handle.
He knocked, "Nat!"
"What?" came a grumbling through the door.
"I need you, right now," without waiting for a response, Tony came in and shyed behind the door.
Natasha was sprawled across her bed with earbuds in. She narrowed her eyes, not moving from her sluggish position, "I didn't say you could enter."
"I didn't ask." Tony smiled innocently.
He pulled out his smartphone and tapped the photo of the notebook. He presented it to Natasha. She tilted her head looking at the page, red hair falling to the side. Then she tipped her head back towards Tony, "Stark, what's this?"
"I found it in Steve's… room," it wasn't a lie.
"He wrote this?"
"I don't know. What does it say?"
Natasha positioned his phone so they they were both facing it. She pointed to the first word, "жeлaниe," she pronounced, "It means longing."
After a minute or so of translating, Natasha translated every word on that page:
Longing
Rusted
Seventeen
Daybreak
Furnace
Nine
Benign
Homecoming
One
Freightcar
Tony sat there in shock, "Well crap."
Natasha pressed her lips together, "Did you snatch his grocery list?"
"What the hell Nat. Does that look like a grocery list to you?"
"Well, what is it?"
"I thought you could help me figure that out," Tony breathed.
"You stole that from his room."
"It's for his well-being, I promise."
"I don't believe you."
"Dang!"
"But unfortunately for me, I've learned to trust you. So I have to help you."
"You're the best."
"I know. Now where were those words?"
"In a notebook in his room."
"His diary?"
"Probably."
Natasha grunted, "Look Tony, I'm as worried about him as you are. But putting Steve through any form of pressure is dangerous as of right now. He needs space to sort this out on his own."
"What're you saying?"
"I'm saying we can't mess with this. These words are obviously important to him, are they not?"
"They're words."
Natasha sat straight up, getting a good three inches taller than Tony. Her expression was fierce when she said, "You never understand anything important to him. Look where that got him."
Tony began to feel lightheaded, "...You're talking about Barnes."
She didn't need to say anything else. So Tony stood up and left her room.
Walking down the hallway, it began to grow longer. Each step he took grew louder and louder and louder. It hurt his head.
Tony already felt guilty beyond words. He felt like a hollow shell. All the feelings inside of him were bound together so tightly he could not understand hem. He tried to make himself happy, to cheer up, but he couldn't force an emotion that doesn't apply to the issue at hand. So Tony tried feeling shame for his actions, and the shame enveloped him.
His chest began to ache, Tony pressed a hand to it. He realized that Steve probably felt the same pain right now. The guilt was consuming him.
He needed to clear his slate.
Tony headed to Steve's room and pounded on the door.
No answer. He knocked again.
No response.
With ease, Tony turned the knob himself. Inside, the room was different than he left it, he realized. The quilt on the bed was tossed aside recklessly. All the cheap, sweaty coats littered the floor in a careless manner. Everything was broken, everything.
Tony knew Steve did this. Loss can control many feelings or actions. It can posses people. One wouldn't know right from wrong.
He saw an open window, the curtains fluttering.
Oh god. Had Steve jumped out?
Tony ran over to the window, looking outside. He scanned the walls of Stark Tower and the streets down below. He saw nothing. Steve was fine, he supposed.
Tony marched down the hall for the balcony. After that startle, he needed some fresh air. He opened the door to reveal the man-in-question gazing down at the buildings below. Cars raced past red lights, honks and shouts were audible, even from way up here. Steve chuckled a little, watching everyone j-walk. He looked up at hearing the door open. He waved Tony over.
Stark stood beside him, focusing on Steve more than the scenery.
His expression was more elegant than it had been back on the helicopter. Steve's eyes shone as brightly as the city lights. His scarf and hair tossed in the breeze. And then he turned to look Tony in the eye; it was picturesque.
Suddenly, a vivid image flashed a Tony's mind. An image in which Steve took the moment to jump from the balcony, descending down Tony's wn creation. Just falling, falling. And then he looked back up at Tony, right before he hit rock bottom.
On instinct, Tony grabbed Steve and held him tight. He was still here. He hadn't jumped. It was a fantasy.
They shared a blush.
"Sorry," Tony muttered, letting go. Though he still kept an arm around Steve's shoulders, just in case.
"I-It's fine," Steve whispered, still with an out-of-character blush on his face.
"My mind was somewhere else, don't think of it."
"It's impressive," Steve said.
"What is?"
"Stark Tower. I mean, holy cow. I can see the tops of skyscrapers."
Tony put on a humble smile, "Oh. Well, you know."
"No, actually I don't know," Rogers put on that same blasted fake smile, "I'm still slow on the uptake of all this new technology, including buildings like Stark Tower," he paused, "Well, it's not new. Just new to me."
"Yeah," Tony smiled, "Grandpa."
"Thanks."
"Anytime, Capsicle."
"Still don't like Popsicles."
"Then you're still crazy."
"Come on. I'm a perfectly sane little saint."
"Yeah-huh. Why'd you bail on your mani-pedi, Rogers?"
"You'd laugh if I told you the truth."
Stark smiled, "No way! I promise I won't laugh."
Steve rubbed the back of his neck, "The. sound the machine was making. It sounded so unnatural. We didn't have anything like that in the 40's. Plus, my ear's been hurting for a while, I think that contributed to it. Felt weird too. For me, at least. I'm a grandpa."
"You really are," Tony then remembered the thing that's been nagging at his brain, "Hey Cap?"
"Yessir?"
"You speak Russian, don't you?"
Steve almost hesitated, "No sir."
"Yeah you do."
"No I don't."
"You hesitated."
"Because… I… don't like Russia. That's where they're from. That's where they kept Bucky. You dimwit," the last sentence was pretty much spat at Tony. He already knew "they" referred to H.Y.D.R.A. Tony didn't know much about H.Y.D.R.A., but he frankly didn't want to know about it. He just wanted to know one thing.
He pulled out his smartphone and presented the same image he'd shown Natasha, remembering what she chastised him for. He decided it was best he took her advice, "Of what importance are these words to you?"
Steve pulled his eyes away from the screen instantly. Tony couldn't help but notice how his hands started shaking again, "I loathe those words."
"Will you tell me why?"
Steve didn't look at him.
"Steve. You promised me you were going to speak your mind around here. Since when does Captain America break a promise?"
Steve's gaze darted quickly, uneasily. Then he muttered, "As long as you swear you'll never let me see any more of the words again."
Stark nodded.
Steve's eyes were focused back to the busy streets below, "They're Bucky's trigger words."
"Trigger words?"
"Those words turned him insane, they kept him in tune with H.Y.D.R.A. After they're read to him, he has no choice but to obey their every order," Steve let out a breath. He went on, "He somehow got hold of H.Y.D.R.A.'s journal. He told me to burn it. But I believed it might be important for S.H.I.E.L.D., you know, to study…"
"So," interrupted Stark, "You kept the journal, yet you told him you burnt it."
"Exactly. Though, I think Bucky found out I still had the journal," by now, Steve's eyes were glassy, his hands were shaking violently.
Again, Tony felt it was necessary to leave an input, "What makes you think that?" He added, "Don't you lie to me, Rogers."
Steve tried to keep his hands still, but they went on moving. He forced himself to continue, "Because he started acting harshly. He started scaring me. He was quiet. The only times he spoke, he screamed. At me. He threw things. I couldn't let him out of my sight, not once. Yes, my very presence angered him, but I just had to be there with Bucky. He was just so distant."
"I know how that feels, watching someone suffer and not helping," Tony hinted. Steve opened his mouth to question this, but Tony's face said it all.
"Oh, God. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
"I know, we all do. You're okay. But, about what you were saying about… Bucky," Tony carefully eased, "He hurt you, didn't he?"
Though it truly pained him to even think about, Tony just had to ask it. Steve's story about The Winter Soldier just didn't quite line up with his recent attitude. If Barnes had been abusing Rogers, however, the fog would clear up. Bucky most likely took his life in response to the fact he's damaged his friend(there's that word again)'s relationship. And Steve's jumpy paranoia would fit in as a sense of aftershock.
Now, if it turns out that Tony's theory is true, he is not going to be happy. In fact, he is going to dig up Barnes' dead body, drop him off Stark Tower, run him over with a bike, then with a car, then with a truck, then with a train, then with the Titanic, then zap him by alien lasers, then burn him, then throw him in a kitchen blender, then flush him down the toilet, then run him over with a sewer boat, then banish him to another dimension.
Then Barnes would be sorry.
No one should dare hurt Steve, not Tony's Steve. He was too courageous. Too polite. Too important to society. And he was perfect. Anyone who harshly touches one hair on his head deserves to be smashed by the Incredible Hulk.
Tony felt butterflies stir in his stomach when Steve shifted uncomfortably in his position. He frowned, "M'hm."
"I knew it." Tony shuddered.
"But it doesn't matter," he defied, "It wasn't his fault, I know it wasn't his fault; he was afraid. H.Y.D.R.A. hurt him, it was their fault. Not his. Besides, it didn't hurt much. Really, it didn't. The hurt came afterwards.. when he died."
Tony shook his head, "Shut up, Cap, please. You already told me he's hurt you. The hard part is over with, okay?"
"The hard part," he repeated, "The hard part? I woke up to find a person I'd known my entire life, lifeless. It was supposed to be our safe house. Nothing was supposed to happen to us! Not to him, anyway!"
At once, the mask protecting Steve's emotions crumbled to dust, Tony could tell. Steve shook his head rapidly, "My god he's dead! He's gone! He went without even saying goodbye."
He blinked his eyes rapidly as the first tears began to fall, "He could've at least told me where I went wrong, I only wanted what was best for him!" he paused, sniffed, "But I also wanted to be what was best for him, does that make me selfish?"
Tony himself was fighting off tears from what he was saying. Where the hell did his reason go? Steve had always been the most logical Avenger there was, a leader with true instinct. He always knew how to sort out a dilemma. Yet here Steve was, confessing to being abused, but then claiming it was all sunshine and rainbows because Bucky didn't actually mean to do it. "Didn't mean to do it" Tony's rear. Darned Barnes, he ruined Steve's life.
Tony tried to focus back on his friend, "No. You're anything but selfish."
Steve's pupils were dilated, "The damn jerk! I fucking hate him!"
"Steve-"
"I do! I hate him! He left me, he left me all alone!"
"Listen," Stark hissed, "You're not alone, okay? You're not alone," he held onto the sides of Roger's face, forcing him to look at him, "I'm here. You can't be alone when there's someone right next to you. That's just dumb."
He pulled Steve into his chest, so that his ear would be placed directly over Tony's artificial heartbeat. Steve struggled a while, trying to pull back. But Tony kept his grip on him, making sure he could hear his heartbeat. That was supposed to calm kids down, wasn't it?
Steve pushed Tony back with a rather desperate move. Tony tried to grab him back, but the two ended up brawling over control. Eventually, Steve had to step down, "Let go of me!"
"Steve, stop it!"
Steve's lips drew back in a sneer, "Don't tell me to stop it! You have no idea!"
Steve paused a moment. He blinked a few times. Then he turned away from Tony to wipe his tears away. He hid his fists in his coat pockets, "Sorry, I let myself go again."
"I-It's okay, Capsicle."
Steve remained facing away from his companion. He showed no signs of turning around any time soon. He was silent. Tony felt a lump rise in his throat, he tried swallowing, but he almost choked on his own pity. He was about to place a hand on Steve's shoulder, but stopped himself. Instead, he settled for, "Stevie, do you need help?"
Of course Steve Rogers needed help. He needed lots of help. Tony knew that. He just didn't know if Steve would admit to it or not.
Steve suppressed a sigh, "I-I want to say I don't."
"I want to say that too. Believe me. But if you do need help, with anything, and I do mean anything," Tony pressed, "Think of me first, okay?"
The fair haired lad turned only a little, so that Tony could make out a sliver of his face in the dim light. From what Tony could see, his expression was blank, "I have something in mind you could help me with."
"Steve, no."
"What?"
"No."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Tony. Did you not say that you'd help me with anything?"
"I did, but anything but this!"
"Cut the crap, Tony."
"Steve, no."
Captain America stood there in Stark's main office with a bottle of whisky clutched in his hand. It wasn't normal whiskey, Steve had added about half a dozen extra shots, claiming that the super serum doesn't allow him to get drunk, and this was the only way to enjoy it. Steve had insisted on having Tony provide him drink, to forget all about his troubles for at least one night. Tony, being an almost fully recovered alcoholic (Tony actually started pushing himself to stop after Steve went away), knew how badly Steve would take his hyperbolic liquor, being so vulnerable and all that. Alcohol and loss is a bad combination, extra shots or no. Tony knows because he's been there.
"I'm only not letting you because I don't want you getting hurt. You're not in the best state of mind right now–"
"–Oh so you're saying I'm insane."
"You know what I'm saying, Spangles. I hate to admit this, but you're no idiot. You know this is a bad idea."
Steve stared at Tony, "I have no title left to defend. It wouldn't matter if I did something stupid."
"C'mon Cap, what if you hurt yourself?"
"That's what I have you for."
It took a moment for what he said to compute. Tony was stunned. Steve just admitted to needing Tony to keep him safe through all this, didn't he? Maybe Tony just imagined it.
But it would be odd if he imagined it. Because somehow, he let Steve have the drink. And a second one. And a third one. Then a fourth. Then the floor was drained with empty bottles of whiskey and lager, some shattered, some partially drained, all coming together to point out how badly they messed up.
Tony didn't remember partaking in Steve's little enrichment. He wanted to stay conscious the whole time, so he could watch over his friend.
Apparently, he went against his will. Because Tony woke up though he didn't remember falling asleep. He was in the living room, sprawled across the sofa with a damp cloth on his forehead.
It only took him a second for him to realize what was happening. He looked to the first person he saw, Rhodey.
"I'm so sorry," he said.
"You should be. You messed up."
Tony's head began throbbing, almost in a mocking tone. The washcloth wasn't helping, all the water was growing lukewarm. He scrunched his face up pitifully, to try and negate the pain.
"Rhoooodey," he begged, "Can I have some water?"
"No."
He sat up on the sofa, placing a hand to a cramp as he did. Tony wavered in that position for a while, his head quivering more than his body. Tony reapplied the washcloth to his head. He wondered if Steve's washcloth was as warm as his; it should be cool, to keep him company.
Oh Maxwell's Equations. Steve.
The immense throbbing in Tony's head intensified, "Where's Steve?"
Rhodey's reply was cold, "In Banner's lab."
"What–Why is he in there?"
Either the War Machine didn't reply, or Tony was just too hungover to hear anything. He stood up with a grunt, but Rhodey gently assisted him back down. Without a word, Rhodey handed him a glass of water and two Aspirin.
Tony muttered a swear word under his breath and took the painkillers.
Rhodey was still gazing at him, worriedly, "Feel better?"
"Could be worse."
There was a beat before Rhodey spoke, "Sam says hi."
"Screw yourself, Sam."
"You still mad at him?"
"Yes. I am," Stark paused a moment, gazing around the room, "By the way, where is he? And everyone else?"
"Watching over Rogers in Banner's lab."
With more force than grace, Tony tried getting up from the sofa again. And Rhodey pushed him back down again.
"Tony," he said.
"Yeah, what?"
"Did you call the police last night?"
Tony's voice cracked, "...James?"
The lieutenant's eyes widened, "You don't remember what happened."
Tony tried to convince himself it was only because he was hungover that tears welled in the backs of his eyes. He knew he was lying, and he loathed it. Tony blinked rapidly, trying to fight them off; he wouldn't cry in front of Rhodey. He asked, "What happened?"
"You called the police last night before midnight. They said you were abusive, Tony," he lowered his voice, "And not self-abusive as the norm."
He waited.
"They said you were either drunk or a mental nutcase. You're damned lucky they didn't imprison you."
Tony tapped his fingers on his knee nervously, "I remember people barging into the office."
"Do you remember hitting one?'
"No."
"You did."
"In my defense, they were coming in unexpectedly. I was protecting myself!"
"Oh, God, Stark. You called them."
"I did?"
"Yes. You called them. And that wasn't even the worst part, Tony."
"Wha–What was the worst part?"
"You tried to order a pizza. A damn pepperoni pizza from the emergency room," Rhodes stood up from his seated position and wiped his face; he was flushed. He was gritting his teeth as he went on, "A few officers arrived, preparing to fine you for an 'unnecessary emergency call' and that's when you attacked them. They had to knock you out, Stark."
Tony felt his lips quiver, "A pizza. Rhodey, that's not funny."
"I know it's not. Why do ya think I'm conferencing you about it? For fun?"
Stark just couldn't believe it. A pizza. A pepper-shit-oni pizza.
The last time he'd indulged a little too much was a week before the Civil War. Nothing had forced Tony into drinking, he just absentmindedly kept refilling his glass. It became a ritual. He got violent that night, scattering paperwork everywhere, breaking bottles, he even tried throwing things. Nothing explained his heated fury, it just happened. And nothing could stop it.
That was, until Steve showed up. He just happened to enter at the right time. Tony didn't remember how Steve calmed him; and man he hated himself for not remembering. But he did recall the soothing tone of his voice, it was smooth, and calmed him. He remembered the brilliant blue gleam of Steve's eyes. He remembered how cool Steve's hand was against his blushing cheek. Steve had helped him. He changed him for the better.
Then they fought.
Then Tony thought he had lost Steve to his idiot boyfriend, Barnes, for good.
But then Bucky committed suicide, and Steve came home. But Steve came home different. He was changed. Bucky changed him for the worse.
"Is Steve hurt, is that why he's in the lab?" Tony piped up wistfully.
"No," Rhodey said, beginning to calm down, "He didn't get hurt, last night at least. You see, we brought him in, thinking you might've accidentally hurt him-"
Tony cringed at the very words.
"-But it turns out, you hadn't laid a hand on him. Someone else did, he's hurt all over the place."
"Barnes."
Rhodey's eyes narrowed, "Barnes did it?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"I got Rogers to spill it," he said. He stood up, and this time Rhodey didn't pull him back. Tony took this moment to seize the attack, "May I talk with him?"
"No, he has a nasty ear infection. And, I do stress nasty. Banner's working on it right now, I believe."
"How come everyone else can?" Tony demanded.
"Because they're watching the medical progress on Rogers through the medi-window. You may go watch him but not talk with him," he waited. Then he added, "And take it easy."
"That really cool window where on one side it's a window and the other side it's a mirror?"
"Yes, Tones. That really cool window."
"Up, up, and away then." Tony waltzed towards the exit, his head feeling better already. He stopped in the doorway, just as he was hit with a wondrous idea.
"Yo, Rhodes," he spun around, "Tell JARVIS to email the tapes from the events last night to my personal email. Tell him that Sir said so."
"Okay, why?"
"Because I want to know what really happened. Because last time I checked, the cops were all out of pepperoni."
"Okay: playing the tapes from Sir's main office, yesterday, 22:45."
Most Avengers were gathered in the theatre (Yeah, Tony Stark had a bloody theatre in his office building, why wouldn't he?) on the twenty-third floor. Bruce and Wanda were watching over Steve back in the lab, who fell asleep due to the drugs that had numbed his pain. But everyone else, perched in the cushioned seats of their choosing, stared up to the screen in deep interest.
Clint actually had popcorn. Natasha dumped the bowl over his head.
Honestly, Tony was afraid. Afraid that he actually did try ordering a pizza, afraid that his title would be mocked, afraid he'd go back to drinking, and afraid that Steve might not trust him anymore. He worried at his bottom lip, which had gone dry. Rhodes placed a hand on his shoulder as a comfort offering, but Tony hardly registered it. He was only focused on the screen.
The picture was actually in color, and high definition; he just had that kind of money. The tape showed the argument he and Steve had broken into:
"Steve, no."
"What?"
"No."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Tony. Did you not say that you'd help me with anything?"
"I did, but anything but this!"
"Cut the crap, Tony."
"Steve, no."
"Rogers, I'm only not letting you because I don't want you getting hurt. You're not in the best state of mind right no-"
"-Oh so you're saying I'm insane."
"You know what I'm saying, Rogers. I hate to admit this, but you're not an idiot. You know this is a bad idea."
"I have no title left to defend. It wouldn't matter if I did something stupid."
That line struck Stark through the heart. Steve had been that desperate, just for a drink.
"C'mon Cap, what if you hurt yourself?"
"That's what I have you for."
The Tony on the screen let out a long, forfeiting sigh, "One drink."
"One drink." The tape Steve repeated, grabbing a lager.
Tony watched in horror as the number of consumed bottles multiplied. They littered the entire floor, as well as whatever kind of superdrug Steve used to jack them up. But the real wreck was written all over Steve's face. He stumbled around, searching for another bottle.
"Stevie, stop it, honey. You've had enough," Tony soothed. He was still completely sober.
Steve spat in Tony's face. He then proceeded to shove Tony backwards, "No I haven't."
"Yes you have, trust me on this, I know."
"You know nothing, you menace!"
"This isn't healthy for you. I'm worried for you, Stevie."
"Don't call me that!" spat the captain on the screen. With an aggressive move, he picked up a desk chair and hurled it at Stark. He managed to move away just in time, the chair smashing into the wall behind him. The screen Tony grimaced, he pulled out his cell phone, "You need help. You know that?"
"Don't you dare call the police!"
The Stark in the video pressed the phone to his ear.
"I said don't call the police, you piece of shit!"
"Rogers, you need help and it's out of my control. Of course I'm calling the cops!"
Then the Steve in the video did something unimaginable. He reached inside the bottom desk drawer and pulled out a gun. He made sure it was loaded, and then pressed it to his ear. His own ear.
"I'll do it, Stark. I'll bloody fucking do it if you don't step away from that phone!"
"Steve!" Tony tried to run to his friend, but Steve stuck his hand out to stop him.
"Take one more step. Do it. I dare you to take another step." His finger teased the trigger.
Stark wavered a little, "Alright. I won't call the cops." He kept the phone at his ear.
"What're you doing Stark?"
"I'm ordering a pizza, what does it look like?"
"JARVIS, end tape."
"Yes sir."
The AI ceased the video from going on any further, and Tony was sure glad about it. He couldn't watch it anymore. Steve and all that talk about suicide, it hurt. But whoopdedoo for not having to pay a fine for unnecessary emergency calling.
According to his expression, Rhodey was at a loss for words. Tony smiled sadly, feeling a little remorse for his friend, and said something to fill the silence, "At least Wanda didn't have to see any of that. And Bruce. The Other Guy would go berserk and not know who to attack."
"Stark. I don't think you need to worry about them," he paused, "Just him."
"So, you're gonna let me go to him now?"
"I'd be an idiot not to."
Then, Natasha approached them, one arm akimbo. She was frowning, "There's just one thing I don't understand."
"And what's that one thing?"
"You never got drunk, Stark. Why did you attack the officers?"
"And what about the hangover?" Rhodey added.
Tony tapped his temple as he set the gears in his head to work. The hangover from this morning was making it difficult to think properly, memories were slow and foggy. But he persisted anyway. It only took a minute of his brain churning and whirring for him to figure it out.
"Steve jacked up the drinks with something," Tony said, "Something the serum would actually submit to. Whatever it was, it was strong, I think. I might've breathed in some fumes."
"I'll have Banner run a blood test," Natasha said, "to make sure that it's not hurting him."
"Or," shouted Clint from the other side of the theater, "maybe Stark was acting out the whole thing!"
"What?"
"Maybe he was trying to protect Steve. You know, convince him that he was on his side," he said this as he wiped hot butter from his face with thin, brown paper napkins.
"Seems somewhat believable, I suppose," Natasha said, clearly annoyed, "There's no logic in the theory. Except for maybe Stark Logic."
"What is this Stark Logic you speak of?"
"It's a stupid decision-making-type logic. The only reason anyone likes it is because it's rich."
"Love you too, Nat," Tony smiled.
Natasha made a grand sweeping motion with her arms, "Go on. Go to him!"
Tony's face grew a shade darker, his eyes a tint lighter, "You make it sound like its a romance!"
"Sure looks like one to me," she muttered.
Walking down the hallway to Banner's lab, Tony grew excited. He started galloping, then running with full speed. He didn't run out of breath once, not even when he finally made it to the lab.
He was happy. Because Tony looked into the really cool window with a window on one side and a mirror on the other. Through that amazing work of infrastructure, he saw Steve Rogers. And letting his eyes fall on the captain of the Avengers, he began to believe that Natasha might have a point.
After an hour, Tony was allowed to go inside the lab and visit Steve. But only Tony. And that made him feel special.
Tony tightened his tie and smiled, "Showtime," he said.
The doors opened automatically for him, sliding upwards at his voice recognition. He made his way across the linoleum flooring to the sedated captain. Steve was just now beginning to stir, his eyelids fluttering open at the approach.
"Tony?" he almost whispered.
"Right here, Capsicle."
A single tear slipped down Steve's cheek, "Tony, will you do something for me?"
Tony's heart lurched, he quickly took a seat beside the bed, "Anything, buddy. Anything except things that'll hurt you; like what you said last night. No more of that."
"Can you call me 'worthless?' 'Worthless' or 'stupid' or 'ugly' or anything vulgar so that I can actually let myself…"
He didn't need to finish the sentence. Tony already understood it. He felt his chest give in. He grimaced desperately, "No, Steve, I-I'm not doing that."
"I just want to die."
"N-No, Steve!"
"But I do."
"Shut up! Shut up, okay? You don't know what you're saying right now."
"I'm telling you I do."
"No you don't, st-stop thinking that!"
"I can't live like this, Tony."
"But you can. You must. You will, I promise!"
"Tony, please… Just stop. You're making this too hard on yourself."
"Why do you think that is, huh? Because I care about you Steve!"
"You don't love me the way Bucky did."
Now, Tony's had it. He grabbed onto Steve with both hands, crushing the dear lad as tightly as he could. They were both violently shaking, "You're right, I don't. Now you listen to me, Rogers, and you listen good. Barnes and I are different. You can't keep thinking about that menace. He hurt you, Steve. He hurt you during the Civil War. He hurt you last night when you were drinking. He's hurting you right now! And hurting you is unforgivable. Why? Because you're precious, you're priceless.
You say he loved you, well maybe he did, I don't give a shit. But the problem is you; you care about him. You're too stuck up, you know that? That's why you forgave him for everything. And that's why you want to take your life, so you can see him again. Goddamn, you're selfish. Well you're just in denial Steve, it's not safe for you to be thinking that about him. If you ask me, I don't want you seeing him ever again, in this life or the next one.
You deserve better than this, Steve. You shouldn't be worrying so much, it's scaring me. I know things are tough, but you need help from someone who's still alive, someone who's right here next to you. And Steve, baby, you mean so much to me, me and the others. I don't want you beating yourself up over anything. I love you so much, you need to be okay."
Tony finished his monologue with a voice crack. He was tearing up. He slowly released his firm grip on Steve, leaning back to look at him. Rogers was choking, drowning down his own sobs. The tears were fighting to break free. Steve slammed a fist down on the bed, "But Tony, he's gone."
"I know, but not everything is over. You're going to be okay. And that's an order, captain."
"I don't think I want to be Steve Rogers anymore," the Captain America said, one morning over breakfast.
Tony set down his coffee cup and peered over his computer screen to look at the latter. Steve didn't look upset, not anxious. His face was completely blank. He was focused on his finger, as it was tracing the lines on his shield. Yes, he got the shield back. But all he's done with it is trace its lines.
"Why would you say such a thing?" he inquired.
Steve forced a shrug. It was easy to distinguish the pain he was trying to hide, "Bucky once told me he wanted a 'normal name' like mine, a-and I don't know. I guess I feel guilty having it or something." he trailed off.
"Wasn't 'Bucky' a nickname?"
"He's had it all his life."
"Your decision is.. understandable," Tony declared. He was honestly annoyed that Steve still cared about Bucky's feelings. In fact, he was pissed. He bit down on his tongue.
"He was my friend, Stark," Steve pressed, begging in his tone.
"No he wasn't. He just wants you to think that. I mean, look what he's done to you."
"My injuries are healing fine. I hardly have any pain in my ear anymore."
"I mean your head, Steve. He's destroyed you!" Tony shouted, "I'm doing so much better for you, much better than he's ever done! Do you not see that?"
"... I know what you're thinking, Tony," Steve unexpectedly remarked. He was looking at him with a spark in his eye. "You don't like how I still respect Bucky's feelings. But I want to apologize for making him jealous, even though he's gone."
Tony blinked distractedly, "Right."
"Well, what can I say, Tony? I am an avenger, after all."
"Say that again, Cap?"
"You heard me," he smiled, "I'm an Avenger."