A/N: Hey, everyone, I'm so sorry I haven't updated my main story in so long, I've had a bit of writers block as I tried to get myself situated in my new level of grade school and I got over some emotional… shtuff…. But I had an idea lastnight so I'm going to try and make this all happen as soon as possible I also wanted to get this typed (I had it written on paper) before my birthday (a week ago) but I failed :'( and I've been beating myself up about being so mean to all of you, but I'm giving you this as a "Please forgive my dumbutt behavior." Presant.
Jessica is a character from my main story (The Sorcerer's Apprentice) That I mention in passing, just letting everyone know
Enjoy, my lovelies!
"There's no time, I've gotta put her in the water..." The words echoed in the belly of the plane, over the vaccumous sound of the wind and pressure being sucked from the hole the tesseract created whilst falling from the hands of the newly vaporized Red Skull. The world darkened suddenly, the crash still ringing in his ears as he heard a familiar voice.
"Ironic, isn't it? You let me fall from a cliff, but you fall from higher and you survive." It's had been so long in the mind, but hearing that voice still hurt like it happened yesterday. The room had gone cold, as if he had crashed, but not it was empty; now he was standing. "You failed, Steve."
"I didn't fail, Bucky, I- The serum is a hex. Part of me didn't want to survive." He could see new age of young friend's face, long, shaggy hair having grown from his military crew cut, death glowing in his now blackened eyes. His commandos uniform was ragged, torn up from the fall along the cliff face, yet not a scratch had scarred his creamy skin.
"And they painted you as a super soldier, again? You don't deserve it." When Steve took a breath to speak, a gloved hand shot from the dark for silence. "You failed me, then the commandos, then Peggy, didn't you?"
"I-I.." The captain's voice caught in his throat as footsteps sounded behind him.
"You lied to me, Captain. The crash wasn't the only way, now, was it?" Peggy Carter's soft, stern voice echoed in the pitch around them. She was still beautiful. Young, beautiful, and everything he had fallen in love with all those years ago. Chocolate brown eyes blazed with a fire he knew was his doing, cherry red lips pursed slightly and her arms crossed gently over the chest that had roused his blush so many times.
"Peggy, I'm sorry... I-I didn't know what else I could do..." The strong voice of the soldier was thick with tears threatening mutiny. "Peggy, I lo-"
"Skinny little Steven Grant Rogers. You think she would have loved you like this?"
Weak. Weak, small and drained, Steven followed Agent Carter's appalled gaze to his own body to see things the way they had been. Before. The Steve that he, honestly was far from ashamed of, but hardly ever missed.
"How would your team react if it all just... went away?" Bucky's voice continued, low and dangerous, as if he could actually accomplish his apparent threat, and the scene began to change.
The void of darkness became bight with a sudden blinding light as he materialized into the common area part of the Penthouse. Tony and Bruce stood in the kitchenette, a cup of coffee clutched in their hands as they quietly chatted in the tired morning atmosphere. Natasha, Clint, Thor, and Agent Coulson sat on the longest couch, picking at the plates of food in front of them as they watched a program on the television unknown to their leader without the sound. The final two members of their group were discovered by the window, Loki and Jessica stood hand in hand and looked out the window, before everyone's attention was drawn to his sudden arrival. And... they laughed. Every one of them began to laugh, no shame or remorse to show for it.
"Look at you, scrawny, you don't deserve what we're giving you." Tony called from the kitchen, high fiving his best friend as he did so.
"How did I consider you my hero?" Coulson added with a sick giggle, Clint doubling over with harder laughter as he did so.
"Look, everyone, Steve's shorter than I am!" Jessica Pitched in, earning a kiss from her boyfriend as he laughed his full throated 'Ehehehe' that bellowed happily from his lips.
"They don't need or want you, Rogers. You should have died instead and saved so many people their misery-" His best friend whispered, a sick smile gracing his lips as people from his past materialized around him as well.
Colonel Phillips, the Howling Commandoes, Peggy Carter, Abraham Erskine, even S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents, all laughing.
"No... I can't have, they needed me here..." He cried into the now overwhelming crowd. It was getting colder and his body jostled with the teasing abuse and having no choice but to endure it. Throat closed as he hid his tears of defeat, he couldn't even yell, until he hit the wall.
Steven Grant Rogers woke in a cold sweat, drenched in his own fear as he shot up in bed. The sheets had been kicked off once again and the cooler temperatures of the wee hours of the morning almost froze the droplets of dew like sweat that beaded down his fair skin, traveling in the engraved patterns of muscle that rippled down his body in waves as he moved. Quickly, he stood, his navy blue, loose pajama pants fell from their ridden up state to end just below his ankles once again as he ran a gentle hand down his bare torso.
The journey to the elevator was unsure but once inside, he pressed the button for the penthouse common area, knowing exactly what he wanted. "Cocoa" he murmured to himself, knowing that what he needed was a shared commodity and held a regretful hostage in the shared kitchen. The ride going up was silent, the usual hip elevator music turned down below his thoughts in precedence as the mechanism shot up to his desired floor.
Upon arrival, the unexpected captain took silent steps to the end of the hallway leading into the living room, not taking into account yet the glow that emanated from his destination.
Anthony Edward Stark sat cross legged on top of the kitchen island, nursing a drink of some kind, looking both physically and mentally tired, slumped around his drink like it was a part of him. He was still dressed in the rumpled t-shirt and faded black jeans from the day before, his mussed up his hair still shimmered from the grease he occasionally ran through it. But, this was a different Tony, a version he has yet to encounter, and it noticed him before he could speak. "Can't sleep?" The figure didn't bother to turn towards him either as he spoke, his words nearly freezing Steve in place.
"I have a tendency not to at this time of night most nights." Rogers' voiced confession escaped his lips before he could stop himself, finding himself crossing the floor to stand directly behind his teammate.
"Seems to be a familiar problem, captain." The young Stark quipped tone dripping with snark as he threw back his drink. Steve could almost feel the sound of the ice clinking as the whiskey was emptied from the small etched glass in his friend's hands. He took a breath as he hopped off of the kitchen island and wandered towards the bar on the far end of the room. Slowly, he muttered "Tough, one I wasn't sure that you had to put up with."
Rogers sighed as a bottle of scotch was pried open and held by a heroes shaking hand. "And why are you up at this ungodly hour, hm?"
A cruel smile graced the brunette's lips as he finally began to pour. "If I said, then we'd have something remarkably in common, Capsicle." The usual bite to his tone was missing, replaced by a mask of amusement over the tired exoskeleton of his jaded wit.
"You have nightmares, Stark?" The artist scoffed, sounding as though he believed the man would be able to prevent them. Rogers' tone retreated back into his mouth as his roommate glared at him with an exhausted ember of anger.
"Who out of our 'motley crew' doesn't? I wouldn't be surprised if no one is actually asleep." Tony finally sighed, the masking curtain of iron fell in droves to reveal the man behind it all, suffering tired and tortured by his own mind. "I haven't slept for more than a few hours at a time since New york, Steven." The use of the soldier's god given name, fully caught his attention as the voice came close to cracking under his gaze.
Slowly, Steve crossed the room and gently plucked the glass from the engineer's hand and steered him slowly to sit on the edge of the couch, seating himself within reaching distance, but not close enough to be too uncomfortable. "It might make you feel better if you spoke about it. I know we aren't especially close, but maybe-"
"Listen, mon capitan, I don't do feelings" Tony spat the last word as if it were acid on his tongue, beginning to get up from his designated seat, before the captain grabbed him by the hem of the shirt and tugged him back down to his spot among the cushions.
"Stark," He warned. "I could make it an order if it were to make you more comfortable."
Another dark chuckle emanated from the unshaven throat and the curtain began to draw back up. "Since when do i listen to orders-"
"I'll tell to you... if you tell me. I know it's old fashioned its just- I wasn't lying when I said it makes you feel better, it's just been a few years since I've had anyone to vent to." Steve laughed, quietly and awkwardly as he stared at the floor. Completely ashamed at his uncharacteristic act of force, he readied himself to let Tony leave the next time he stood, but the shift in weight on the couch never came.
"Go for it," Came Tony's soft reply, the voice he used when Bruce was getting a bit too riled up, or one of his friends began to worry him. "I'll listen if you really need me to."
The captain began slowly, closing his eyes and describing his most recent nightmare as if he were literally painting a picture for his reluctant therapist. Every voice had a color, every touch a new brush stroke, and every mood, a new texture. He could feel his fellow avenger scoot slightly further away at the mention of his blatant cruelty, but the blonde kept on.
"And that's when I woke up, I guess. I'd say it was a repeating dream, but I can only account for a repeating topic-" He stood and the brunette made an over exaggerated, appalled look.
"I thought you wanted me to speak too, cap?"
A soft smile graced the captain's lips as he sat back down, and turned toward Iron Man once again as he chuckled. "Right, sorry, I wasn't sure that you truly wanted a turn." There was a playful bite to his words that made Tony cast his gaze slightly downwards.
"Really, I don't," He muttered, hoping the super soldier's enhances sense of hearing would falter, just for a moment, before continuing with "Whatever, here it goes."
He could barely see the tip of his own nose in the darkness of the cave, the stale smell of gunpowder and molten metal hitting him between the eyes as he struggled to upright himself. He was soaked. Waterboarding. Again. And, part of him could still hear his own screams echoing into the void. Yinsen stood above him, just as he had done every day for the most crucial 3 months of his life. Brown eyes peered down from behind his thinly rimmed glasses, uncharacteristically condescending and his voice unusually gruff as he whispered. "Are you enjoying your new life, Stark? I asked you to become a better man."
"Yinsen, I did! I went and made a whole new name for myself, literally!" He chuckled at his own horribly conceived pun. "Yinsen, I am a her-" Tony was beaming at his own success, but his old friend stopped him short.
"And yet, you destroy in the persona of a hero? Maybe I shouldn't have saved your life, Anthony, seeing as I paid for doing so, and how many others after me?"
"You never did tell me what happened in those caves... Tony, did you really kill doctor Yinsen?" Pepper's horrified murmur came from nowhere. His eyes shot around the darkness of the cave, trying to locate the voice's source, his precious lover.
"Pepper, I didn't kill him, I-"
"Oh, but you did, didn't you, Tony, my boy?" Obadiah Stane's voice came from the opposite side of the bed from where the deceased Gulmiran Scientist stood. The smile he wore was one from his childhood, small and friendly, but soon to be found venomous. His eyes almost playfully narrowed as he leaned close. "And then, you killed me, didn't you? Who goes next, hm? Is it gonna be that military friend of yours?"
A gunshot sounded, but to Tony's surprise, it wasn't aimed at him. Colonel James Rhodes' voice screeched out in agony.
"Rhody!" The young Stark screamed as he begun to vault himself off the thin mattress, when he was pulled backwards by an invisible force emanating from his chest. Looking down, he saw that his ARK reactor had been replaced with Yinsen's original electromagnet, the chords connecting him to the car battery that powered it keeping him grounded.
"Or, what about your woman? Pepper actually chose you after I died? For a relationship?" Obadiah snorted, getting a dark on his face as he began to wander towards the foot of the bed. "That whore, only she would"
This time, Tony gained the strength to stand himself up, cocking his fist back before he was even all the way up and preparing to do damage to the Ironmonger's precious face, when two strong arms pinned him to the sorry excuse for a mattress once again, allowing his childhood guardian to continue.
"Steve? Thor?" The brown eyed Avenger gawked when the faces of the two usually innocent blondes came out of the shadows. They both held him down with one hand on either shoulder, a new malice in their eyes. "Steve, let me go! Damnit! Thor, haven't you heard what he's been saying? What he said about pepper? Let. Me. GO!"
"And who are you to care? You, who cares about no one but yourself. No one matters to you, do they? A hero? Maybe in a movie, but not in reality, Stark, not here. You don't deserve it." Came Steven's dark reply, full honesty shining in his eyes.
"The captain is right, Anthony. You are a rogue warrior who serves no one but himself and therefore has no honor." The thunder god added, wearing a back stabbing smile upon his lips.
Before protest could be made, Pepper's antagonized screams filled the air the furthest corner of the cave slowly faded into the spectrum of light he was used to and the demigod forced him to look up.
Pepper Potts sat against the wall, in the corner of a laboratory of some kind, clutching her right side. Surrounded by the rubble of some sort of attack or struggle, she carefully protected her injury, blood oozing from the opening like water trickling down the face of a rock in a stream. Her whimpers of agony fell upon what seemed like deaf ears as no one but Stark seemed to be affected by it.
Bruce Banner stood over her, shadowing her as though he was frozen in the process of helping her, though she looked beyond him. Dark eyes stared at Tony, almost in fear. Her emotion was almost tangible, her message clearly reading "Why are you hurting me, Tony? I thought you loved me?"
Forced into immobility, silent tears streaked down the billionaire's face as he prayed to whatever deity that might have power over situations like this for a voice to scream in contradiction. His eyes turned towards his science bro, pleading with him, mentally, to reassure her of the truth.
Bruce's wicked smile was the first to greet the light, blood staining his favorite purple button down and khaki slacks as he stood, discarding a weapon of some sort. As he removed his blood spattered glasses, blackened eyes burned into Tony's soul with a menacing passion as he whispered "Oops,"
Hoarse and broken, the angered and sorrowful shriek that escaped the struggling hero's lips shook his entire being.
The captain frowned as he watched the young Stark's chest heave as his eyes faded into less of a crazed panic, and he returned from his surprisingly vivid recollection of a dream and back to reality.
Suddenly, Steve stood, slowly breaking eye contact with his fellow Avenger; he stepped into the kitchen without a word.
As he began taking out milk and a bar of chocolate, Tony spoke up. "What the hell are you doing?"
The artist's answer was simple, backed with a soft glimmer of reminiscence in his eyes as he put his hands, and memory, to work. "When I was a kid, my mother made me hot chocolate whenever I had a nightmare. And, with the remnants of the first great war, and the depression dripping down our backs, it wasn't an uncommon phenomenon. After he and my father's unfortunate early passing, Bucky helped me the same way." His voice grew slightly distant. "Even in my 20's and I could very well make myself a drink, he was there..." He stared into the saucepan he was using to mix everything together as though it was a window to the longed for past, but before the engineer could say anything, he had snapped back to 2013. "So, I'm making it or the both of us and there is no way I'm gonna use that kuri-... keru-... K-cup machine thing. I am making real, traditionalist, American hot chocolate."
Tony Stark fell silent, staring at Steve's hands as he, almost too skillfully, added ingredients and stirred the frothy liquid on the stove top. When the cocoa was divvied up and steve sat back down on the couch, a tiny bit closer this time to hand the cup over in an easier fashion, Tony finally spoke. "Thank you," He murmured into the brim of his customary coffee mug.
Somehow, the blonde had remembered that he always drank from the same mug when in the penthouse. It was, surprisingly, and ugly shade of decaying moss green, chipped on the handle and the rim from accidents and brave battles with the vile creature known as the dishwasher. But, as distasteful and unlike him the cup may look, he drank from it every time he was there, without fail, unless his drink of choice was liquor, meaning he had drank his coffee from the mug earlier in the day. And, he refused to tell anyone but Rhody, Pepper, and Bruce why. He peered over the jagged edge of the cup curiously, non-verbally asking his question to the man with blue eyes that sat in front of him.
"What?" Steve asked, amused in his commentary. "That's the cup. Like, the cup. You use it in here only and always, you won't drink from anything else but a scotch glass. And, the cocoa was just because, you know? You had a nightmare and I wanted to help, that's still what friend's do, right?"
Watching his friend's warm and kind smile elicited one of his own. Though a small one, it was as genuine as could be in the early streaks of golden sunlight spinning its way like a spider's web over the cracks of the Manhattan skyline as the sun itself rose in orange and scarlet shades. "Yeah, it's still what friend's do..." He trailed off, smiling at the prospect.
Friends. He could use another friend.