Tony shuffled out of bed, just wishing this day would go by quickly. He wasn't normally greeted by the smell of coffee, the one thing Steve would always do before going on his seven-mile jog. The coffee maker sat cold and unused on the counter, the dribbles of the remainder of Tony's all-nighter still there. He only knew that it was the same because it had the burned flavor that it only had when Tony made it. It's kind of ironic: Tony's had this coffee maker for years now, probably from before Obadiah took over the company after Howard's death, but he still had no idea how to make good coffee. Steve's been unfrozen for about a year now and he can use the coffee maker better than Tony could. I mean, Steve's Captain fucking America from 1941 and he's been frozen for 70 years. Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he opened the top of the maker to pour in the water. As he did, his AI, JARVIS, said, "Good morning, Mr. Stark."

"Morning, JARVIS. Did Steve get up early and go jogging?" Tony had decided to stay at his house in Malibu, California with his superhuman boyfriend rather than stay in New York with the remainder of the team.

"No sir. I do not register Master Rogers going to jog today."

Tony nearly choked on the dry toast he'd made moments ago. "What do you mean?"

"Master Rogers has not gotten out of bed since last night."

"When did he leave our room?"

"About three A.M., sir."

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair again. "Pull up the security footage from last night until

now."

"From which areas, sir?"

"Mine and Steve's room, the hall, the guest room, and here."

"Right away, sir." Tony turned to the counter where four hologram screens popped up, each showing the views of the rooms he indicated. When the time code of the two's room showed three A.M. Tony saw Steve wake up from something, sweating and pale. His own sleeping form turned towards the empty space behind Steve and seemed to search for the blonde. Steve glanced at Tony and kissed his forehead, then he got up, grabbing his shirt from the nightstand where it'd been thrown aside, and left. Steve shut the door quietly and headed down the hall to the room that he'd originally been staying until Tony and him got together a few months back. He shut the door behind him and slipped the shirt over his head and sat on

the bed with his face pressed to his hands.

"JARVIS, zoom in to Steve's face."

"Yes, sir." The footage paused and zoomed to Steve's face.

"Play."

The footage began again and Tony, lucky he could read lips-or at least Steve's-saw Steve kept muttering,

"Why would he do that? He's my friend. He wouldn't kill me."

Tony paused and looked at a screen like the hologram ones that he was watching, but this one being one to write on. He wrote what Steve had been saying, then underneath wrote:

Natasha

Clint

Bruce

Thor

Fury

Maria

Tony

He started thinking of what Steve could have been talking about. He probably had a bad dream and that's why he woke up in a cold sweat. But what was the dream about? It was about one of the guys, but none of them had done anything, especially me. Me and Steve have been separated from the team for three months now. What could he possibly have been-

"What are you doing?"

Tony spun to see Steve in his khaki pants and white t-shirt standing behind him, staring at the five hologram screens past Tony's shoulders. "I'm just, uh, doing some research." He shut down the screens and looked at his boyfriend. "It's nothing."

"If it's nothing, then why was I on one of the screens." It was more of a statement that a question. He crossed his arms, looking at the brunette in front of him.

"Steve, I promise, it's nothing."

"Tony, you know I hate it when you lie to me."

"I'm not lying-"

"Yes you are!" Steve boomed, scaring Tony half to death. He'd never actually heard Steve raise his voice like this. "You're looking at security footage of last night when I left."

Tony sighed. "Okay, fine, I was, but it's nothing."

"I had a bad dream."

"I figured. Why didn't you wake me like last time?" Last time Steve had a bad dream, the two of them sat and talked for hours. Steve had just more rambled on about it and what it was like way back then, and for once, Tony listened. That moment had sparked their relationship.

"Because you couldn't have helped me with it."

"Of course I could. I did last time-"

"This one wasn't like last time." Steve stared at the ground, arms crossed.

"Then what was it like?"

"It doesn't matter." Steve strode past Tony and started making coffee. He seemed to keep his distance from the brunette, making him wonder what the dream had been about. Usually, Steve would be coming back from his jog by now, then he'd give a sleepy Tony a kiss on the forehead or lips, depending on how asleep Tony was, so this was just strange. Steve hadn't so much as given Tony that sideways smile that he loved so much.

"Steve?" Tony ventured, getting up and going over to him, "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," Steve said quickly, moving away from the hand that Tony'd rested on his shoulder. Tony

stepped back and looked at his boyfriend. "Just... Don't touch me," the blonde said.

That statement had hurt Tony to his core. "What?"

"Don't touch me." Tony sighed, defeated, and went to his lab to work on the Iron Man suit. Steve shut his eyes and finished making the coffee.

Hours passed, Tony's lab stereo blaring AC/DC almost continually with that instant of silence between song changes. The brunette pushed his hair back with an oil-covered hand and stood up from working on the boot repulsars. He was about to work on the hand repulsars when he saw his phone screen lit up on the table.

TEXT FROM: Cap

RECIEVED: 1:27 P.M.

MESSAGE: I guess it doesn't matter anymore.

Tony raised an eyebrow and picked it up. There were seven new messages, all from Steve. They read this, going from about the time he first came down to that last one:

MESSAGE 1: Listen Tony, I'm sorry about what I said. It's just...that nightmare got to me.

MESSAGE 2: Hey, Pepper's up here. Says she wants to talk to you about the industry.

MESSAGE 3: Tony, what the hell are you even doing down there?

MESSAGE 4: Are you even getting these?

MESSAGE 5: Can you come upstairs? I need to talk to you.

MESSAGE 6: Tony?

MESSAGE 7: I guess it doesn't matter anymore.

Tony typed out a reply:

Steve, sorry I didn't respond. I've been working on my suit and the music was loud.

He went back to work, turning the stereo to pick up on the cell phone's ringer. After he worked for another hour, there was no response. He sighed and pushed the mask back from where he'd been working on the interface. Tony got up and headed back to the living room. He looked around. No Steve. He checked the bedrooms. No Steve still. He checked the kitchen and found an ice cold cup of coffee and a folded note with Tony's name written across it in the familiar handwriting he knew belonged to the superhuman. He

ignored the cup and lifted the note.

Tony,

I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean to make you mad or whatever you felt when I said what I did. I might as well just head back to Brooklyn. JARVIS told you earlier but you didn't come up when I was waiting. Shows how much you care.

Steve

Tony ran for his room and pulled his shoes on. As he was leaving, he noticed there was something missing. Tony's black pistol he used to carry around before the suit wasn't in its usual place in the case. His heart sunk. He had to get to Steve, quickly. The suit was already being assembled, JARVIS noticing the change in Tony's mood and urgency. Tony pulled the suit on and tracked Steve's cell phone signal to the Brooklyn bridge in New York. Please don't do this, he begged silently. As he reached the bridge, he saw the all-too-familiar outline on the other side of the railing. "Steve!" The outline didn't turn towards him, because it already was. That's when he saw the flash of blue turn to look at him. The black pistol was aimed at the blonde's temple. "Steve! Don't do this!"

"No one will care!"

"I will!"

"Too little too late! I had a date with someone. She's dead! Your father was my best friend! He's dead! I saw my best friend Bucky die! It doesn't matter to me what you think!"

Tony stared at Steve in complete and utter shock. Those formerly bright blue eyes were dull and lifeless. The hand didn't falter from the trigger. "Steve..." he started, taking a step towards him.

For every step towards him, Steve stepped back, turning the two foot gap between railing and thin air to one foot with just one step. "Back off, Stark," he spat.

"Steve, just put the gun down and come back to the house with me."

"No. I don't want to bother you anymore. Have you ever heard yourself talk in your sleep? Oh, wait, that's right. You were too busy trying to figure out what I was saying." He turned the safety off. "You want to know what my dream was about?"

"Please don't do this."

"Tony, no matter how many times you say it, I'm not going to stop. I don't have a place here. I was meant to live in the 1940's, not the 21st century. Good bye Tony." Steve shut his eyes and fell back. Tony rushed forwards three steps, then heard the resolute boom of the one thing he'd never wanted to hear except in battle. He dropped to his knees, feeling his heart constrict. He felt like something snapped in him. Everything faded around him, leaving him in this little bubble of silence. Normally, he'd hate the silence, but after hearing that boom, all he wanted was to never hear that ever again. Those last words rung in his ears: Good bye Tony. Good bye Tony. Good bye Tony. Good bye Tony was all he was hearing. He put his face in his hands. The billionaire playboy attitude was gone and he felt like an empty shell. Steve just killed himself over a dream and the fact that everyone he used to know was dead. Tony just wanted to look down over that railing and find this all an elaborate hoax pulled by Steve and Clint. He got up and walked over. He saw nothing in the water, no snickering from under the edge from Clint. Police pulled him away, Tony already screaming for Steve by that first hand on his arm. The police had to tranquilize him just to get him to calm down. Tony laid on the asphalt of the road, staring up at the police around him. As his vision faded to black, he could just see those blue eyes one last time.

-3 months later-

"Is he awake?"

"Mr. Stark is still unstable. I'm afraid I cannot let you in, Ms. Romanoff."

"I'm going in anyway." The door came open. "Tony?"

He turned his head to see the red haired Natasha Romanoff, otherwise known as Black Widow. "Hey," he said hoarsely.

"What did you do this time?" she asked, not bothering with a hello or anything and sat down in the ever-present chair.

Tony sighed, running a hand over his face. "Same as last time."

"Tony, you can't keep doing this to yourself. Killing yourself isn't going to solve anything."

"Natasha, I saw him die."

"And how will killing yourself change that?" He only sighed and turned away. "Tony Stark," she said firmly, "you have tried six times in the last three months to kill yourself."

"One for each message."

"What?" She looked at him with a super confused look to her face.

"Steve left me seven missed text messages."

"So...?"

"I've tried to kill myself for each one." Tony stared the opposite wall, stared at that empty chair that he should see Steve in. "How could he do that to me?" he asked aloud but mostly to himself.

"Tony, you heard him. He said he didn't feel right here."

"HE WAS CAPTAIN AMERICA!" Tony suddenly said, turning to face her with red-ringed eyes. "HE WAS CAPTAIN FUCKING AMERICA, THE SUPERHUMAN, AND HE KILLED HIMSELF OVER THE DAMN 21st CENTURY!"

Natasha sighed and put her cheek to her hand. "Tony, calm down."

"How can I calm down?! I saw him kill himself!"

"And I've seen and stopped you from killing yourself six times. Why do you even try to?"

"Because I don't have a place in the world." Tony stared at her with cold, calculating eyes.

The red head shook her head quickly. "No. Don't you dare use Steve's lines on me."

"What does it matter to you?"

"Tony, you're my teammate. I've kept you from shooting yourself twice, hanging yourself three times, and once from drinking bleach. The bleach is why you've been in here for two weeks."

"I've been in here... for two weeks?"

"Yes." Tony thought about that. He felt numb in his throat, so much that it's a wonder he can actually talk. His legs were warm under the thick blanket. When he thought about it, he realized that his throat hurt like hell and his stomach was aching from being pumped to remove the bleach. He sighed and just stared at the blanket. Natasha stood and put her hand on his shoulder, "Just get some rest." She turned and left, leaving Tony in the silence he hated so much. He was reduced to his thoughts and all he could think about was Steve. That's usually what he was always thinking of: the tidy blonde hair, the bright blue eyes, that smirk that made him Steve. Tony ran his hands over his face, sighing. Steve, why did you do this to me? Maybe it wasn't about him. He sighed and shut his eyes, remembering that day on the bridge. He couldn't see past the pure anger and hatred in those blue eyes he loved so much. Why would Steve even do that? He had so much to live for. He was Captain frickin' America for crying out loud! Tony opened his eyes and tried thinking, but his mind kept wandering to that day. He and Steve had argued about something so stupid. Steve's nightmare is what caused that. He groaned and covered his eyes with his hand. His throat screamed for water, for something to cool the burning from Tony's latest attempt at suicide. He didn't get any water and just laid there, wondering what would have happened if he'd been able to stop Steve. He wouldn't have lost those blue eyes; he wouldn't have lost his best friend. Tony covered his head with a pillow, seeming to be asleep, but he was actually trying to hide the tears. He sniffled quietly. His happy, playboy, billionaire attitude had died along with Steve that day on the bridge three months ago, leaving an empty shell of a man. He covered his eyes again and let his arms fall across his chest. The cold metal he nearly forgot about jolted a chill up his arms. He looked down at the Arc

Reactor that ran his heart, as well as kept shrapnel from imbedding itself in his heart. Seven missed text messages, Steve, he thought. I'm not going to forget the seventh.

I guess it doesn't matter anymore.

Tony stared at that last text, wondering what Steve had been wanting to talk about. I guess I'll never know, he thought with a sad sigh. He put his phone down and said to the ceiling, "I wish you were here, Steve. I want to talk to you." While he talked, his hand went to the Arc and turned it until there was a hiss of separation, then he looked down towards the round metal. This is going to hurt, he thought. But I'll see you soon, Steve. Tony stared up at the ceiling, then shut his eyes. The monitors began beeping and he flat lined. Doctors and nurses rushed around, but none of them noticed that the Arc was slightly raised up. Tony didn't wake up for the longest time. There was no final sound. Doctors pronounced him dead. He was transferred to the morgue and was going to be given an autopsy. As he laid there, there was a small click and he opened his eyes. It wasn't even ten minutes after he'd committed suicide. "Don't Tony," he heard in that all-too-familiar voice.

"St-Ste-Steve?!"

"Shh." Tony looked for the blonde in the room, but didn't hear him anymore and didn't see him. Tears started down the brunette's cheeks. "Don't cry," the voice said soothingly.

"But-but St-Steve, I-I want you back," he stuttered past the tears.

"I'm sorry." Tony turned towards the voice and saw Steve standing with his Captain America shield shirt, khaki pants, and black shoes Tony'd forced him to get. He stuttered and Steve shh'ed him again. "Hush. You don't need to talk."

"You're back!" Tony tried to get up, but Steve kept him down.

"Tony, hush. You need to wake up."

"...What?"

"Wake up."

Tony's eyes flew open as he saw Natasha standing over him, actually in tears. His Arc had been put in place and his monitor gradually came back on. Bruce, Clint, and Thor stood in the room at different places. "Tony?" Natasha said.

"What happened..."

"You tried to kill yourself again. You actually flat lined, Tony."

Tony sighed and shut his eyes again. 'Wake up,' Steve had said. Well, I'm awake. What now? He sighed and went to sleep. Every time he'd wake up, a different Avenger was there. They'd talk with him for awhile and get him whatever he needed. During that time, Tony would dream of Steve.

-2 years later-

Tony rubbed his eyes and heard crying in the next room. "Dammit Steven," he mumbled. He pushed the covers off, not waking the red head next to him in bed. He pushed open the door to the nursery and saw the little baby in the crib awake and crying. "Shh," he said quietly. "Don't cry." The baby boy cooed and grabbed at the dog tags on Tony's neck. Tony smiled and let him play with them. "Those are his, you know." Tony'd gone through Steve's room and found them wrapped in a handkerchief. He'd worn them ever since, even to his wedding.

Natasha came in. "Tony?"

"Hey Tasha. I was just quieting Steven down."

"It's still so unbelievable how much he looks like Steve."

Tony choked up slightly. "Yea."

Natasha saw the emotions flash across his face and walked up, took Steven and laid him down, and hugged Tony. "It's alright."

"I miss him so much." The two went back to bed, talking for awhile before Natasha got too tired to stay up. Tony looked at the picture on the nightstand of he and Natasha at the altar. Tony had taken a year dating the Black Widow before he finally proposed. Natasha had known that he'd never get over Steve, but ever since she had to put the Arc back in his chest after his seventh suicide attempt, she'd felt like more than just teammates and friends. Tony smiled softly at that day. Seeing the red head with tears making her eyes light up had just struck his heart. It was nothing like Steve had inflicted in his heart, but it was a good feeling. A few months after their wedding, Natasha was pregnant, and nine months later, little Steven was born. The little baby boy had blonde hair and blue eyes, nearly breaking Tony's heart at how much he looked like Steve Rogers. Tony laid a hand on his sleeping wife's shoulder, making her turn towards him and open her eyes slightly. "Something wrong?"

"No," Tony answered. Natasha nodded and curled up against her husband and slept. Tony sighed and put an arm over her. He kissed her forehead and said quietly, "I've woken up, Steve." He closed his eyes and could almost feel that familiar warmth against his back and those arms over his side, hands taking his, and that voice whispering I love you in his ear when Tony acted asleep but was awake. Tony smiled. "I'm awake."