A/N: Ghosts are so much fun to write. This will be an interesting romp through angst, fluff, humor, and sexy times. I can't wait to see where this takes me. But there will be eventual Stuckony.

Disclaimer: This was another avenger kink prompt with the basic premise of ghosts. I'm just going all over the place with it.

Tony knew he had messed up big time when he looked down and saw his shrapnel-riddled body lying in the sand.

Fuck.

He had so much he still wanted to do with his life. Build bigger and better inventions, have more wild escapades with Rhodey, date Pepper, host the largest party in history. All the basics.

And here he was, killed by one of the weapons he had helped create.

"What a way to go," he said miserably.

"I'll say. I always thought you'd end up drinking yourself to death."

Tony whirled around.

The ghost of Steve Rogers was floating a few inches above the downed Humvee, still in his Captain America uniform, minus the stupid cowl.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. "Okay, look," he said. "I've had a really rough day. So can we save the lecture for later?"

"There's no point in telling you anything you don't want to hear," Steve said. "You've never listened to anybody else offering you advice. Why should I be any different?"

Jesus, Steve was way more of a self-righteous asshole than he had been lead to believe.

Tony floated closer to Steve and looked him straight in the eye. "You don't know a thing about me, Mr. Perfect. So stop talking shit."

"I do know you, actually. I've been watching you for some time." Steve shook his head. "You've made a lot of bad decisions over the years."

"Then why didn't you stop me from making them?" Tony hissed.

Steve leveled him with a disapproving look. "I'm a ghost, not a guardian angel."

"So then you had no business following me around and spying on me. But that's how you get your kicks, isn't it? Watching people and judging them for not living up to your standards. And somehow people like you." Tony shook his head sadly.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Howard would probably be ashamed of you right now."

"Don't you dare bring my father into this," Tony hissed. He shoved at Steve, a little surprised when his hands didn't go straight through him. No, he had actually managed to push Steve away. And if he could push him, he sure as hell could punch him.

He swung hard, punching Steve across the face. Steve looked a little stunned, but he didn't fight back. And that just pissed Tony off more. So he kept swinging.

His fists were connecting with Steve's face. He could see the way each blow pushed Steve back and feel the impact of hitting something solid. But no matter how many times he punched him, he wasn't doing a thing to ruin that perfect face.

"Are you done?" Steve asked finally.

Tony looked down at his hands. By now, the knuckles should have been split open and they should have been raw and bloody. But they didn't look any different. And he didn't feel any pain.

"Damnit," Tony said. He massaged his temples. "This is just way too much to handle right now. I need a drink. But, oh wait, ghosts can't get drunk, can they? Fuck my life." He gave Steve a sidelong look. "Going to talk shit about my drinking again?"

Steve's shoulders sagged. "You have every right to be angry," he said. "I was angry for so many years. At Hydra for making those bombs, at Bucky for falling off that train, at Peggy for going on living while I was dead. And then I was angry at Howard for wasting so much time searching for me instead of spending what little time he had with his family." He shook his head. "I shouldn't be judging you. I wanted to get drunk after Bucky fell."

"Now that's an acceptable response to grief," Tony said. "Drinking doesn't really solve any problems, but it makes things feel better for a little while."

"Not going to help you this time," Steve said. "You'll have to handle all your feelings about death on your own."

"Right. The five stages of grief. Got anger covered already. And then denial, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But how am I supposed to accept this? How did this even fucking happen?" He frowned as armored vehicles surrounded the Humvee. Heavily armed men stepped out and began prodding the bodies.

"Terrorists," Tony said in disgust. "I make weapons for our men. How the hell did terrorists get their hands on these?"

"Obadiah Stane," Steve said.

Tony blinked. "My business partner? No, no, you've got it all wrong. There's no way Obie would-"

"He talked you into making this weapons demonstration, didn't he? You could have sent one of your salespeople to make the pitch, maybe one of your engineers to explain the technical aspects. But he convinced you that the CEO of the company was the only one who could really make the sale."

Tony hesitated. That was all true. He would have preferred to stay home in his penthouse, but Obadiah had somehow talked him into going in person.

"I'm sure he's already got a speech prepared about how your death shows how unstable the world really is right now. And since he's going to take over your company after your death, he's in prime position to keep the fighting going."

"That fucking bastard," Tony hissed. "I am going to go poltergeist on him. Make sure he never gets to sleep again."

"Not happening," Steve said firmly.

"Oh, don't go all moral crusader on me. He sold my weapons to terrorists and had me killed so he could take over my company. He deserves me haunting his ass for the rest of his life."

"Not that I disagree with you," Steve said. "But that's going to be a little difficult since nobody else can see us."

Tony wilted. "Nobody?"

Steve shook his head. "I've tried. Trust me. Peggy told me to meet her at the Stork Club when it was all over. And I was there, sitting right across from her. But she couldn't see me. Do you know how much it hurt to watch her cry over me and know there was nothing I could do to ease the pain?"

"Damn," Tony said. He could imagine how Pepper and Rhodey would mourn him. And there'd be no way he could assure them that he was fine.

"So, if we've gotten the arguing out of our systems, I'd like us to work together," Steve said.

"Come on, Cap. We're dead. Hero time is over."

Steve shook his head. "Your death's left a lot of bad people in positions of power. The Ten Rings are only going to get more powerful with Stane in control of your company. We have to stop them."

"How? We can't exactly go up to them and tell them to fuck off. I know you don't want to just sit back and watch the bad guys win, but let's face it. There's nothing more we can do."

"Well," Steve said carefully. "It's not much, but we can mess with electronics a little."

"Fuck yes," Tony said. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Even if Obadiah couldn't see him, he would feel Tony's presence as he fucked up everything the son of a bitch tried to make.

"I didn't even know for awhile," Steve said with a shrug. "It took me five years to realize I could make lights flicker or change the channels on the TV. And then another twenty years before I figured out I could overload circuits somehow."

"Good, good," Tony said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "This is prime poltergeist activity."

"Revenge can come later," Steve said firmly. "First, we need to stop the terrorists."

"Look. I'm going to do my part. Stop Stane from sending them any more weapons. Have one of your other ghost buddies help you with the Ten Rings."

"There isn't anyone else."

"Oh come on. I'm sure they'll be just as good-"

"You don't understand, Tony. We're the only ones. There aren't any others."

Tony blinked. "No other ghosts?"

Steve shook his head. "I've watched thousands of people die and none of them have become ghosts like us."

"Wow," Tony said. "What makes us so special?"

"Unfinished business," Steve said grimly. "We have to stop these terrorists and we're the only ones who can do it."