AN: Yeah. Hi. So, it's midnight. And I'm posting this. I don't think I'm in my right mind, so just tell me if I'm making Tony too girly with the emotions or something, because I can't really tell right now. And it'll be really great if any of you tell me if I misspelled anything.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, obviously. Which is why I'm not going to put up much disclaimers.
Tony breathed in nervously, hands shaking as he held the bouquet of roses. He cursed Pepper for making him do this and cursed the tailor who squealed and flew around when she heard why Pepper was fitting him for a suit. Steve wasn't even the kind of guy who would like suits. He contemplated making a break for it as he loosened the tie around his neck like it was choking him, but could almost imagine Clint's cackled, 'I fucking knew it, hand over the money, mean green,' and ended up opening the door before even thinking.
Tony froze as he stared at the scene before him, the bundle of limbs against the wall. The blonde hair Tony had imagined himself running his hands through being gripped at by a manicured hand of an obvious female. Tony's heart shattered as he saw Steve stop abruptly, turning his head to look at the genius with those wide blue eyes. The inventor looked down dazedly, finding that he had accidentally let go of the roses in his shock.
Tony shuffled his feet for a moment; his head bowed before he reached down and gathered the scattered petals and the bundle of flowers. "Sorry for the interruption." His breathe hitched at the end and his voice was thick. There wasn't even a nickname squeezed in there or a witty remark, which was even more worrying than him flipping a table.
He slipped out of the room stiffly, closing the door as if it were a small glass figurine before walking away, his hands clenched around the dying flowers. He barely even registered his hand slamming the flowers into a trash bin until he had clenched his hands into fists, words like 'Stupid, stupid, you are so fucking stupid. Why did you even think—just, god. Why did you let yourself hope, you idiotic ass? You are so stupid, stupid, motherfucking stupid,' repeatedly flying through his head.
He vaguely registered someone calling out his name desperately before shaking his head as he barely found the will in him to give a flying rat's ass. It should've worried him, how hollow he felt and how much he had expected something like this to happen. His brain repeating, I fucking told you so, until Tony couldn't take it anymore.
He barreled into his workshop, his mouth dry and his eyes glazed tears. It was odd, how seeing Steve with a woman felt like a dagger to his heart when he was so indifferent to his own parent's funeral. He hadn't shed a single tear as he saw their coffins being lowered, and now he couldn't help but sob as he tried to muffle it with his arm.
With a clenched fist and a grounded jaw, Tony stood up abruptly, going to the one section of his workshop where he kept his blueprints. He stared at the suit he was designing for Steve, state of the art yet still durable and old fashioned, just the way he thought of Steve, before gripping it with a rigid hand and crumpling it. He ripped it apart; feeling like it was payback, before stopping and staring at the shredded pieces of paper, feeling more awful than before. He had nourished the idea, had occupied it and enhanced the fabric and everything, and after ripping all of that to shreds, he couldn't help but feel like he had just kicked his own nonexistent kid's stomach.
He felt the tears come back as he leaned down and covered his face with his arm, hating himself for being like this. This was why he never tried. This was why he never bothered before. But he couldn't blame Pepper for forcing him to man up, no. This heartbreak was his fault. And he has to own up to it, whether he wanted to or not.
With that, he stood up, breathed in with a hand swiping up to wipe away the tears, before he set to work, the equipment of his teammates flashing through his mind as he planned to renew and upgrade each and every one of it. Captain America could-would have every goddamn woman he fancies, and Tony was going to turn his head in a different direction and acknowledge the fact that Steve Rogers will never be his.
"Sir," the familiar voice of JARVIS snapped Tony out of his concentration, making him jump and graze his hand with the welding iron. Through his cursing, JARVIS continued with a slight nonchalance, "The captain is outside and is asking for permission to enter."
"Shit—fuck, ow." He hissed, cradling his reddening hand before getting bombarded with the fire extinguisher, "DUM-E, you touch that thing again and I swear on Barton's preppy ass, I will turn you into a toaster and sell you to a nearby school." Then he blinked, furrowing his eyebrows, "Cap has his own personal code to this place, why the ever-loving-fuck would he even ask me to let him in?"
"I wouldn't know, sir. Why don't you ask him when you grant his permission?" the AI's voice was tinted with sarcasm, and Tony felt smug for a moment. Who has a kickass AI who could even project sarcasm? Uh-huh, Tony Fucking Stark does, that's who.
Tony made a gesture that was the universal sign for oh-why-the-fuck-not? And the doors slid open before the blonde haired man stumbled in, not having expected to be let in so fast. Tony composed himself, eyes staring at his blueprints before he spoke, "Cap. Well, your new gloves are over there," he gestured towards one of the desks, because, well, why else would he be down here? "The fibers are stronger and it's warmer. You can thank me later with some pancakes."
"Tony—th-thank you but… um." Steve seemed nervous, like some kid who got caught cheating on a test, "Um, that's now why I'm here."
Tony turned around to face him, regarding him with a raised eyebrow, "Well? Am I supposed to play psychic or are you going to elaborate, spangles?"
"Um, well, the other night—when you saw what happened. I honestly, well, I didn't really know she was going to grab me like that, and I didn't mean to just go with it. It was indecent and I am sincerely sorry." Tony couldn't believe what was coming out of Steve's mouth. He thinks the reason for Tony's lockdown mode was his indecency. Tony almost slammed his face into the glass surface near him, but considered staring instead. Tony gaped as he watched Steve fidget under his stare, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down in shame.
After a long beat of silence, Tony finally spoke up, giggling hysterically, as if he didn't know whether to laugh or cry, "You—you think that I locked myself down here because I was disgusted by your indecency? Cap, you have got to know by now, my middle name's indecency. And besides, indecency would be doing the sex outside the Tower. You know, in public. Where everyone could see your junk? I mean, it would be pretty great to get a picture of your baggage, but I don't think America wants to see the man who represents it naked on the newspaper. I could almost see Coulson getting a heart attack." Tony paused from his ramblings, nervously licking his lips before pretending to cackled, "On second thought, maybe America should witness that. A red SHIELD agent makes a happy Tony Stark."
Steve seemed to deflate with relief, running his hand through his hair, not even bothering to react to Tony's easy banter and noticed how Tony's expression hardened. Tony couldn't help it, remembering how the woman's hands clutched the smooth blond hair, remembered the manicured nails dig into his scalp and almost slammed his fist into the fire extinguishers glass case.
"Tony? Are you okay?"
Tony steeled himself, slumping and bowing his head low enough so that Steve wouldn't see his expression. His hands gripped his own sleeves, feeling sick to his stomach before he could respond with a throaty voice, "I'm fine, Rogers."
Steve flinched, blinking with wide eyes, unsure of the sudden change of mood. "Are you okay, Tony? Do you feel sick?"
Tony could almost feel those soulful blue eyes surveying his hunched for with worry and almost convulsed with self hate. Of all the people to fall in love with, why did it have to be him? The perfect Captain America who wouldn't even consider being with Tony even if Tony asked. The sorrow—fuck Tony hated how much he sounded like a deranged heartbroken little girl—was choking him. But he was going to take one for the team just this once, and back off.
"I'm fine, Rogers." His tone was steely, cold and all too familiar. It scared Steve, how Tony sounded like the Tony back when they first met. "It's getting late. I'm sure you can march right out of here like a good little soldier before Fury thinks I've raped you of your 40's innocence."
Steve regarded him with hurt, his face scrunched up in confusion at the sudden rudeness. Steve tried to sputter out something, anything, to get the man to look up at him, but the genius won't have any of it. Steve even apologized for whatever it is he had done, but Tony ended up sounding more frustrated than before. Soon, he left, hollow and confused. What could he have possibly done to make Tony hate him again?
Tony leaned against his table in exhaustion, heart aching. He couldn't believe how difficult it was, to hear Steve's desperate words, his apologies, and still shun him away. He was almost ready to bare his soul to him, to tell him the words he had swallowed back every single time. Tony slammed his fist into the table, making his cup of cold coffee jump.
Hours pass with Tony staring blankly at his blueprints, his stance screaming exhaustion. All he could ever think now was Steve's sorrowful eyes and how he thought, fuck, I caused him pain. The only guy I ever fell in love with, and I hurt him. Such a typical Stark thing to do. But he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not really. He was doing this for Steve too. I mean, I'm just saving him the agony of letting me down easy. Tony thought painfully.
He doesn't regret his decision at all, no. That doesn't mean he doesn't hate himself.
