I'm so sorry for the wait, everyone! Anyway, here it is, chapter 4.


It's Darcy's birthday! Tony thinks it's the coolest thing ever. Darcy brings lots and lots and lots of pink iced cupcakes that she helped make with her Mamá, one for everyone in the class. And she has a new bear, a wonderful pink and purple fluffy bear with floppy arms.

When they do Numbers, Tony finishes his really fast, because Numbers are easy peasy. He wants to draw a picture for Darcy, so he gets a big piece of white paper from the paper box and spreads it carefully out on the desk.

'Watch'a doing?' Steve says, leaning over to see. Steve hasn't finished his Numbers, he's only half way through, but Steve hates Numbers.

'Gonna make a big picture for Darcy,' Tony tells him proudly, unpacking his coloured pencils from his case. 'Gonna have all of us on it. An' Thor.'

Steve frowns and folds his arms, belligerent. 'Why?' he says. 'You're sitting next t'me now.'

Tony looks up at him worriedly. 'But…' he says. 'But Darcy's my friend.'

Steve scowls, making a cranky sound. 'Huh,' he says grumpily, and hunches over his Numbers book, writing in the wrong answers very fast and pressing very hard and black with his pencil.

Tony bites his lip, hesitates. 'You got that one wrong,' he points out softly, and then flinches when Steve's brows go down even further. 'I mean, I – I could help you? An' then we could draw it t'gether?'

Steve's head pops up again. 'YES,' he says firmly. 'T'gether. Just us, not the others.'


The picture for Darcy is beautiful. Tony draws Darcy in the middle, very carefully, with pigtails and a red dress because red's the best colour. He draws everyone else around her, Steve with bright blue eyes and Tasha's red hair and Clint with a bow and arrow just like Robin Hood and pretty Jane and Tony himself with a black curly scribble of hair. Thor is behind the others, nice and tall and big.

Steve does the border. He draws long ropes up the sides and then adds other things like long curly snails in shells, and seahorses, and tanks, and some flowers. He points at Tony's face when he sees him looking at the flowers. 'Flowers AREN'T GIRLY,' he says sternly, daring Tony to disagree, 'they're AWESOME.'

'I – I like flowers,' Tony says shyly, and then ducks his head. 'I picked Mum roses once,' he mumbles. But he'd got in trouble for that, the roses were special garden ones and not for picking. They'd been so pretty, though, pink and yellow and smelling wonderful, and he'd scratched his hands trying to make a bunch of them.

He glances back up at Steve, who's looking at him curiously, head tilted to one side. And then Steve does something different, because he smiles a little bit at Tony, just a little tweak at the corner of his mouth.

'Flowers are cool,' Steve says companionably, and then he pushes his red and blue pencil case across the table. 'You should share my colours.'


Darcy's bear is really the most best thing, so bright and beautiful and soft. Tony can't take his eyes away from it. He curls up on the floor next to Darcy at story time and looks and looks and looks at the bear on her lap, wondering what it would be like to hold.

Tony's got lots of racing cars and aeroplanes and building sets and things, at home, but not very many bears. He just has two. There's a big special fancy one that's made out of pure white mohair and cost a lot of money. Everyone says he must make sure he doesn't get it dirty, so it usually stays in a box at the top of the cupboard.

The other bear is very old. It belonged to Tony's Dad, when he was little, which makes Tony feel funny, because he can't imagine Dad ever being little and playing with bears and toys and things. Old-Bear is a little bit threadbare at the edges, and sits on the shelf usually, watching the room with a kind, tired face. Tony doesn't think he's supposed to really play with Old-Bear, so he just leaves him on the shelf mostly and talks to him sometimes, in his head.

(Except, only just sometimes, when Tony's feeling really bad, then he climbs up on his steps and fetches Old-Bear down and hugs him, just for a little bit, really carefully so he doesn't get hurt.)

But Darcy's bear is soft and cuddly and meant to be played with, just like Darcy's doing now while Ms Potts reads them a story about a princess and a tree that grows balloons. Darcy strokes all the soft fur one way, and then smooths it all back. She straightens the bright pink bow around its neck. Then she holds the bear by its arms and makes it walk along the ground to Tony.

'Do you wanna hold him?' she whispers, and Tony looks at her, wide-eyed. Is Darcy really – is she really going to let him hold her special bear? Even though it's her birthday?

'C'mon,' Darcy says encouragingly, and walks the bear into Tony's lap. And Tony reaches out reverently and curls his arms around the bright fur and oh, it's so soft, even softer than he imagined, and he cuddles it and presses his face in it and then cuddles it some more.

Then Darcy gets him to put his head in her lap so she can play with his hair, and Tony likes Darcy playing with his hair so he lies down and cuddles the beautiful bear and listens to the story; and slips his thumb into his mouth because no-one's there to tell him not to do it.


Tony huddles on the play bench and wraps his arms around himself, feeling sick and horrible and scared. Steve and Darcy are fighting, they're fighting at lunchtime, and it's all his fault, and he wishes they would stop and there's a hot feeling behind his eyes like he's going to cry.

'Tony's MY friend,' Steve hisses, glaring.

'No he isn't.' Darcy folds her arms around the birthday bear and glares right back. 'You're mean t'him.'

Steve snaps his teeth at her. 'Am not, am NOT, I HATE YOU,' he says angrily, but Darcy's already going on.

'An' you don't look after him. And you didn't friend-shake with him, so there!'

'THAT'S STUPID AND YOU'RE STUPID AND I HATE YOU,' Steve roars, and Tony jumps in fright, and bursts into tears.


Darcy sits down next to Tony on the bench and puts her arms around him. 'Don't cry, don't cry,' she says softly, 'Tony Tony, don't cry please.' She pats him gently and glares at Steve over the top of his head.

Tony sniffles into Darcy's soft round shoulder. He just wants both of them to be happy, Steve and Darcy. Not fighting, he doesn't like them fighting, it's too loud and too scary and reminds him of sometimes when Dad comes home angry and yells and yells.

Steve kicks the ground, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His face is a little bit crumpled, as though he might want to be crying himself if he wasn't Steve. 'Sorry,' he says gruffly, after a moment.

'You hafta do better n'that,' Darcy says crossly, holding Tony tightly. 'You gotta – hug. Or something. N'be nice. An not yell.'

Steve takes a deep breath. Tony watches tearily as he pulls his hands out of his pockets and sits down on the bench, on Tony's other side. There's a moment where nothing happens, and then Tony lets out a hitching breath of surprise, becauseSteve is patting his shoulder with awkward gentle little pats.

'Hug,' Darcy prompts, and Steve actually shifts gingerly closer and puts his arm slowly and carefully around Tony. And now Tony's being hugged from both sides, and it's – nice, it's really really nice, and he doesn't know why he's still crying. He blinks at Steve through wet lashes, and Steve is watching him with a sort of worried face.

'I – I really am. Sorry,' Steve says in a small tense voice – and then, in a rush, 'I won't – I'll try – Iwantyoutobemyfriendtoo.'

Tony catches his breath, staring at Steve with wet eyes. 'You – really?' he sniffles. 'Me?'

Steve hunches his shoulders. And then – then he stiffly sticks out his hand, pinky outstretched, and waits, scowling down at his knees.

There's a big warm spot growing right in the middle of Tony's chest, and he feels a smile start, beginning on the inside of him and then reaching his mouth and curling the edges up, up up. He starts smiling, and he can't stop smiling and smiling and smiling, and he reaches out shyly, and curls his little finger gently around Steve's.

Steve's pinky hooks tightly onto Tony's and holds on, and then Steve breathes out a long breath and lifts his head and looks sideways at Tony, very quickly, and then away, and then back again. Tony still can't stop smiling, wiping away the last little traces of tears; and then Steve smiles back, a little tweak at the corner of his mouth. His arm is still around Tony's back, very careful and light, but warm.

It feels so good to be cuddled between his two friends, and oh, Steve! Steve's actually, really, truly his proper friend now. Tony hums happily in his throat and nestles in, enjoying it. Darcy giggles.

'Tony sandwich,' she says, pressing closer. 'See! Steve n'me are bread, an' you're licky licky peanut butter!'

She pretends to lick Tony, and he squeaks and giggles and twists away. 'No!'

Steve's arm goes tighter around his back, and then Steve wraps both arms around Tony and tells Darcy sternly, 'No licking Tony.'

Darcy sticks out her tongue at him, and Tony giggles and snuggles between them. And Darcy puts her bear in his lap to hold again, and Steve very carefully smooths one of Tony's curls with his finger, and Tony feels like he could burst with happiness.


Next chapter: Tony's birthday!