A/N: Hi. Yeah. Hi, I've returned from under my rock. My apologies- everything has been really hectic lately.
I am determined to finish this story, so yeah. Thanks for the support guys, it really means a lot. It makes me kick myself to get back to writing. So, thank you! Really.

Avoiding Steve was a new game that Tony picked up over the past week. Surprisingly, it wasn't actually that difficult. Tony knew every inch of the mansion, after many adventures as a child, and so he could easily slip out of sight. He'd skip dinner, much to his mother's disapproval, and often steal a snack later in the night. He blamed it on a flu that was going around. Whether his father accepted this explanation or not was unknown. However, Tony suspected that Howard preferred the quiet as opposed to his usual prattle. Jarvis would shot him reproachful glances, but he never did say anything.

So, per-usual, Tony crept into the kitchen, later- when everybody had finally fallen asleep. At least, that is what he thought. Because, when he was halfway through eating his peanut butter sandwich, a shadow appeared before the door. Automatically, he ducked behind the counter. If it was his dad, he hoped that he was drunk. Tony didn't wish that often, if ever, but now it would be a relief. He could play it off (because he was genius), and Howard would be likely to forget.

"Anthony?"

He knew that voice. Dread crept into his stomach, as he peered from around the counter, and was faced with red, velvet slippers. "Mom?"

Maria had her hands positioned defensively on her hips, and Tony knew this stance all too well. "What-on-Earth are you doing up so late? I recall you telling me you were sick?"

Oh. Tony really should have known better than to cross his mother, Maria could be scary when she wanted to be. She married Howard after all. Most of the time, she spoiled Tony, but that was because he learned better than to make her cross. "Peanut butter sandwich?" he offered, holding the half eaten sandwich like a peace offering.

To his surprise, Maria sighed and accepted the sandwich. She sat down on the cool, tiled floor with him. Resting against the back of the counter, as she bit into the sandwich. Tony felt some of the tension leave him, glad that it was his mother who found him. He wanted to remember this moment for as long as he lived. He pressed his face into her sleeve, breathing in her familiar, comforting scent.

"What is it, then?"

"What?" Tony responded blankly, still imprinting this moment into his memory.

"What is making you so sick, that you have been skipping dinner every night?"

That was the question, to which, he didn't want to respond. He groaned into the silk nightgown, and buried his face into his mother's lap.

"Anthony." The question was more stern this time. But he still refused. The peanut butter must be going bad, for his stomach gave a terrible lurch. Maria tugged at his shoulder, but he just gave out a quiet groan. "Tony. You answer me right now, what is wrong?" The pain in his stomach doubled at her panicked voice. "Is it your Father? Tell me, did your Father say, or do something to you? Anthony Edward Stark, you answer me, now."

He managed to shake his head, and heard Maria sigh. "Then, is it me or Jarvis?" He shook his head again. "Steve?" He didn't move. "What did Steve do?" she spoke gently now.

Only Tony couldn't stand those words. What did Steve do? Nothing. It was his fault. All his fault. "Mom, it's all my fault. I, I looked through his... I just wanted to understand. I just really wanted to understand, that's all. He looked so upset. He hates me. And I don't know how to..."

"Oh, Tony," he felt her hand running circles around his back. "Steve doesn't hate you. He couldn't ever hate you. If you feel bad, you should just apologize."

He lifted his head to look at his Mom, as if just realizing there was hope for redemption. "Apologize? How-?"

"Be honest and sincere, and listen to what he has to say as well." She smiled.

"I don't know if I can..."

"Tony, you can't avoid him for the rest of your life. We are Starks, we don't avoid problems, we confront them." She rose, back to being stern, but sweet all-the-same. Mom really was amazing, he thought as she trailed for the door. "And I expect to see you at dinner tomorrow night."

And sometimes merciless.

Apologizing to Steve was a difficult problem. Tony was a genius. He had devised several different options. One, writing a letter and sending it through the mail. However, that would take to long, seeing as they had to have dinner together tonight. Two, buy Steve a really nifty present and maybe he will forget about it all. Though, Steve didn't like the type of person that could swayed. Three, invent a serum that could erase a week's worth of memory. Yet, he doubted anybody would really appreciate that one. Four, rehearse an explanation to Steve, and then recite it. This, seemed to be, really, his only option.

So, Tony paced in front of Steve's door, repeating the words that he had to say. All he had to do was knock, say them, and then everything would be done. Yes. He raised a shaky fist, only to coward away for the thirty-eighth time. It was the thirty-ninth time, that the door swung inward before Tony's raised fist. Before it was a Steve, with that stupid bewildered expression that Tony thought he'd never see, ever again, a week prior. And he was dumbfounded as well. But, somehow his mouth still worked.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he blurted out in a row. Though his words were more of a continuous line of "m'sorrysorrysorry". Which was really, really embarrassing. And lame. So, for the second time, he ran away from Steve.

Tony had raced into his room, and thrown himself onto his bed. Wishing to die in self-humiliation. Moments later, however, there was a knock on the door. He could only guess who it was. He buried his head into his pillow, comforted by the cool silk against his warm cheeks. The door clicked open despite his lack of response. He felt the bed dip with added weight. His stomach gave an all-too-familiar lurch. Guilt.

"Her name is Peggy."

That... Was unexpected. Steve didn't sound angry, disappointed, or even patronizing. Instead, he sounded just like he was talking. And that he was. He continued on.

"She, she, was the first gal I ever really liked. Who really ever noticed me, I guess. I loved her."

Tony dared to sit up. He was faced with Steve's sagging frame. His back was to him, but he could tell that the man was twisting his hands (like he does when he gets nervous at dinner).

"When I heard... Twenty years had gone by, the first question that came to mind was her."

Tony couldn't help himself. He placed a hand on Steve's shoulder because he couldn't stand this atmosphere anymore. It was stifling. Yet, he also couldn't leave Steve alone in pain, either. "I'm sorry," he said, and it came out smoothly this time.

Steve nodded. "I'm sorry too... I didn't mean to scare you or anything, I just, I was surprised I guess. Just promise, if you ever need anything, just ask me next time, okay?"

Tony felt his throat tighten. Both burdened by guilt, and touched by Steve's forgiveness. "Yeah, I promise."

Steve turned, a smile was on his face. "But I suppose I should thank you, Tony. I'm sort of glad you looked. It feels good to get that off my chest."

"Anytime, really." And he truly, honestly, meant it. He would always be here for Steve. Just like he was there for him. In such a short amount of time, he had already changed his life. Steve stood up, saying something about dinner, and having to change. Tony didn't really hear him.

"Anytime... Steve." He repeated to himself and the empty room.