Tony poured himself another glass, happy to let the alcohol take over his senses for a while and allow him to forget about the thoughts that plagued him almost every waking hour. He didn't know exactly why he was depressed or when it had started but Tony Stark was miserable. He had almost anything a man could ask for yet every smile he gave was fake and every laugh was forced.
The depression hit him like a tidal wave and Tony handled it like most Stark men would, he drank. He drank himself silly, often waking up in places he didn't know, surrounded by people he didn't like. He drank until he was numb and oblivious to the constant pain. He felt like he was on a downward spiral to hell and he just couldn't get the suit to fly.
So here he was, genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist, on the top floor of Stark Tower on a Thursday night, getting wasted. He slumped against the couch, downing half of his drink. He vaguely heard his phone ring somewhere across the room for about the sixteenth time that evening and he chose to ignore it once again. It was probably just Pepper, calling to check up on him. He downed the rest of the concoction in his glass before refilling it with something even stronger. He went to go sit on the couch again but stopped, his gaze set on the baby grand piano sitting by the window.
Tony trudged his way over to it, falling into the bench seat, liquid sloshing from his cup to the floor. He sat at the piano awkwardly, not quite sure what he should do with his hands. It had been quite some time since he'd even touched a piano. His mother had taught him to play when he was younger and he always hated it, fighting her tooth and nail throughout his lessons. Now he wished he'd paid a bit more attention.
He held his drink in his right hand, his left sliding onto the keys. He hesitantly pressed down on a key, the note ringing out through the room. He pressed another one experimentally and soon his free hand was working out a sloppy melody. He paused for a minute, taking in a shaky breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. He would not cry. Stark men did not cry.
He blinked a few times to clear his eyes before taking a large sip of his drink. His hand continued to move across the keys rhythmically, playing out a song that his mother used to sing to him when he was little. The music was slow and soft and Tony couldn't help but sing along quietly with it, his voice unsteady.
He continued to play, his glass dropping from his hand and falling to the floor with a clank, spilling its contents onto the carpet but it was soon forgotten, Tony's other hand now moving to join his right, sliding as fluidly as possible in his drunken state across the piano. The music filled the room and Tony sang out louder, unable to stop as a few tears slid down his cheeks.
He was tempted to wipe them off before anyone saw, before he had to admit to himself that he was crying, but he couldn't bring himself to take his hands away, his fingers continuing to dance across the keys. The last note rang out and Tony sat completely still, his finger not moving. And then he broke down.
He wouldn't have been able to stop himself even if he wanted to. All the things that had been building up for years came spilling out in the tears that ran down his face. He curled into himself, the piano making a discordant sound as his elbows pressed down, his face resting in his hands. His body shook and quiet sobs echoed through the loud empty room.
He startled as he heard the door to the room he was in open and he hurried to wipe away any of the tears still falling down his cheeks. He looked up as Steve came to stand beside him at the piano bench, worry clearly etched across his face.
"Are you alright," he asked, sitting next to the other man and reaching out to grab his hand in his own. He stared at Tony intently, his blue eyes seemingly gazing into his soul and Tony felt like he was being read like an open book.
"I'm fine. Just a bit tired," he said cooly, trying to brush it off and desperately hoping that Steve would get the hint. He didn't know if he would be able to hold back tears with the blonde man sitting here, so comforting and loving.
"Tony," Steve whispered, and that was all it took. The tears continued their path down Tony's face, his eyes squeezing shut and he curled up once again. He sobbed harder as large arms wrapped around him. He happily complied when the arms started pulling against him, allowing himself to be pulled into his husband's lap. Strong hands rubbed gentle circles across his back and Steve leaned down a bit to whisper softly near Tony's ear, "It's alright. Shhh. It's all going to be alright."
Tony buried his face into the crook of Steve's neck and he squeezed his eyes shut, smelling and feeling nothing but the man holding him. Tony knew then and there that even if he was on a downward spiral Steve would always be right there to catch him.