Hey guys! So I'm temporarily back from this long hiatus. This chapter, as usual, is written with horrible English, so constructive criticism, or anything, really, are most welcome.
Tony haphazardly threw on a pair of worn out jeans and a black cotton shirt that allowed the faint blue light of his reactor to filter through slightly. He trotted down to his lab, relishing in the familiar setting and workspace where he could indulge in his work, drowning out all his sorrows and miseries until he finally collapsed, and would subsequently wake up with a laboured breath and tears streaming down his face if he was lucky, screaming and sobbing if he was not. He would pick up where he had left his task before clumsily falling asleep, and continue on until sleep threatened to rob his mind once again.
Tony had a wrench in his hand, screwing the bolts on his newest iron man model when the Captain knocked on his glass door, holding a cheeseburger and a cup of coffee. He gestured for Friday to let the Captain in.
"Hello, Captain. How may I help you?" Tony casually asked, his sight not once leaving the work that occupied his hands.
"Tony, I brought you some food. Considering that you checked out of the medical room AMA, I think you should not stress yourself that much and you shouldn't spread yourself thin. It's not healthy, you know."
"I've been doing this for years, Cap. Alone. I think I can manage." Tony drawled, secretly thankful for the coffee as his eyelids are beginning to feel just a tad heavy.
The Captain looked at the mechanic, and stared into him. God, the things he would do just so he could kill Howard with his bare hands. No child deserves to be treated so horribly, especially not Tony - the man who gave everything his all, silently working and slaving away to ensure the safety and protection of his dearest teammates; the man who was so kind-hearted, yet had to construct a facade of snark and wit to hide behind because he had been betrayed countless times; the man who had held a gun to his temple, begging everyone to let him kill himself because he had lost faith in this world…
The Captain reaffirmed that Tony did not deserve this.
The problem was, that Tony had other ideas in mind.
"Earth to Steve Rogers?"
A waving hand entered his vision, pulling him out of his train of thought.
"Come join us for dinner, Tony? Please? The team wants to apologise formally…?"
The Captain pleaded, putting on his best puppy eyes look, hoping that Tony would accept the offer. He knew the chances of this happening was less than slim, but a man can hope, can't he?
"Sure, sure they want to… apologise? What for?"
Tony genuinely looked bewildered, eyebrows lifting up in confusion.
The captain was too nonplussed to act. Sighing heavily, he pulled out another chair next to the mechanic and sat down. He sighed again, opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and sighed once more.
"Tony, please just come to dinner. I know you don't think the team did anything wrong, but… please, just come to dinner?"
Tony's tinkering faltered. He lifted his goggles and stared into the Captain's eyes.
"No, Capsicle. Unlike you people, I actually have work to do. Got a company to run, suits to fix, events to attend… the list goes on and on and on. Just leave me alone like you all used to. I thank you for the burger, and the coffee. Now, take your frozen ass and leave. I have deadlines to meet."
Tony took a huge bite from the cheeseburger, revelling in the delicious taste that swamped his taste buds, then downed the scalding hot coffee in a single gulp, before resuming his work, tuning out all the unnecessary noises like the Captain's incessant lecturing and whatever else he was saying. Damn it, can't this man just take a hint?!
Steve sighed deeply, then stood up and left the room silently.
Perhaps that Parker kid would have better luck.
Peter was in the middle of his chemistry class when he felt his phone ring and "Unknown Caller ID" flashing obnoxiously on his phone screen. Tentatively, he excused himself from class and dashed to the washroom to accept the call.
"Hello?"
"Is this Peter Parker?"
"Captain Rogers?" Peter inquired, surprised.
"Yeah. Kid, I, well we, need you to do us a favour. Can you come by the tower now and ask Tony to come have dinner with us? We want to talk to him, but he won't let us." the Captain intoned.
"So you're saying you want me to fix the mess you all created." Peter drawled, unfazed. It is their mess, therefore it's their responsibility to fix it, not his.
On the other hand, helping them with this might actually help Tony. Peter might be a kid, but he was definitely not dumb. He could see through his mentor's facade of happiness since the first time they met. If he could help him get reacquainted with his old friends, perhaps he would be less lonely, and he would not be stuck in endless torment that is his own head that constantly plays out unspeakable horrors in black and white film.
"Kid? You still there?"
"Yes. I'm swinging over, but just to be clear, I'm doing this just for Mr Stark, not for either of you."
"Thank you, Peter. We really do need the help."
Tony was upgrading Clint's arrows and Natasha's suit (why, he didn't know.) when he felt a presence behind him. Immediately, he tensed, holding a pen in his hand, ready to jam it in his attacker's carotid artery.
Or maybe, he should let this attacker kill him. Wipe his meaningless existence off the face of this Earth. Perhaps then he could finally burn in hell without his ridiculously obnoxious teammates trying to stop him.
"Mr Stark?"
So it was Peter.
"Underoos, not that I'm not glad to see you, but aren't you supposed to be at school?"
"Yeah, but, well, school is boring, and I already know everything that's taught in class anyway. So, I thought, I could swing by and watch you work and learn something so I can tinker with my own suit-"
"It was Rogers, wasn't it?"
Peter fell silent from his aimless ramble, shuffling awkwardly on his feet.
"Yeah. The team just wants to invite you to dinner, nothing fancy. Would you please go?"
Tony let out a heavy sigh.
"Look, underoos. I honestly do not have the time for this 'dinner' everyone keeps nagging me to go to. Lots of things to do. Did you think Stark tower remains standing because I had a dinner with anyone that requested an audience with me?" Tony stated monotonously, hands swiping over the designs for Natasha's suit. Perhaps a laser gun there would be a useful addition…?
"Can I at least stay and watch you work, Mr Stark?"
Tony thought for a while. Peter already knew everything anyway, what's the point of hiding himself from this child, whose innocence he so selfishly tainted?
"Fine. Just don't, uh, destroy things. That'll be cool."
Comforting silence surrounded the room for a while. Peter watched, amazed, as usual, as the mechanic tinkered here and there. Peter's presence was unexpectedly helpful. It pushes Tony to a state of extreme awareness, clearing his head and making him work more efficiently.
"Mr Stark, I know what Captain Rogers did was unforgivable, but-"
"Look, Parker. If I thought I had needed a therapist, don't you think I would have gotten myself one by now? If you're here to coax me into rambling about what's on my mind, then leave." Tony bit out harshly. He didn't need people constantly trying to pry open his mind that is a giant database with an enforced lock only he could open, then try to get him to talk about his pathetic feelings. He didn't have the time for that, and he didn't need people trying to decipher what he's thinking, or his depression, or his self loathing, or his insecurities. He had already inflicted enough hurt, anger and trouble on this world, he didn't need to do more of that. The residents of the Stark tower needed to stop trying. He's not worth their time.
"Sorry, Mr Stark. I'll just, watch, from this bench over here, then. If you need anything, just holler. I'll be happy to help out, if I can."
So Peter observed silently.
What he saw wasn't the physics and coding behind constructing that sick laser gun Mr Stark had just thought of, and it wasn't how the mechanic cautiously hammered the pieces together to form the product. What he saw wasn't even a man.
He saw a piece of a shattered picture, a fragment of who Tony used to be. He saw a figure burdened by the past - something nobody can change. He saw a pile of meat and bones drowning in something nobody can identify. He saw weariness, exhaustion, resignation.
Briefly, he wondered how such a bright, brilliant and intelligent person could have such an arduous past. He wondered how nobody could see through his defences, how nobody could see how utterly alone he was. His mentor had gotten so used to working alone that he resisted anybody's help.
He pondered how a team of elite agents couldn't see how hard it was for this person to lend them even a little shard of his trust, how they couldn't care for the man that was stuck under the debris his own family members had left behind, how they could just take his care for granted despite the horrific backgrounds they themselves had.
He pulled out his cell, then texted the Captain.
He knew he was just a kid in the team's eyes. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage.
Tony wasn't sure how long he had been working in his workshop when suddenly, a box of pizza dropped down from the ceiling.
Make that 10 boxes.
Damn it. Barton.
"Stark. Time to eat. You've been working nonstop since… 5 in the morning. It's currently 9pm. You need to eat."
"Birdbrain, need I constantly remind you I've been doing this alone for years. I can manage."
The door to his workshop slid open.
The Avengers, which he was not part of, strolled in.
"Man of Iron, you need to eat. This isn't healthy. You won't have enough energy to continue with what you're working on." Thor declared loudly.
"Is that it? You want me to eat so I can make you better gear? So I can work quicker and produce your toys by the snap of your fingers?" Tony spat indignantly. Not only wouldn't they leave him alone, they treated him like their personal manufacturer.
What's more, whatever he's producing wasn't good enough for them. His manufacturing speed wasn't quick enough. His designs weren't new enough. Once again, they spat his failure straight in his face.
He was never going to be good enough for them.
Memories of his dad's abuse flashed across his mind in super speed. He was. Never. Going. To. Be. Enough.
Simply because he was Tony Stark, the incompetent, narcissistic, good-for-nothing failure everybody hated.
He curled upon himself and bowed his head further down, continuing to work on Natasha's laser gun solemnly.
He needed to push away his feelings. They would only impede his progress, which wasn't something he needed to add to his ever-growing list of failures.
He wondered whether any more of his old weapons had killed any innocent people in some corner of the world today. He added their deaths to his list of failures.
"What? No, Tony, we just want you to be healthy."
Tony, head bowed, continued to work on silently, electing to ignore the team's presence.
"Mr Stark, please. It's pepperoni pizza, you can't possibly dislike pepperoni pizza, it's a crime against humanity."
"Cap here also got pineapple on pizza. Who even eats pineapple on pizza? That's ridiculous, isn't it, Tony? I know you hate pineapple on pizza."
Nothing.
The only sound that filled the room was the mechanic putting the laser gun together. Soundlessly, he handed Natasha her newest toy, then turned around and started constructing Clint's newest arrows.
Ever the kind doctor, Bruce strolled over and put his hands on the mechanic's arms. The mechanic tensed and flinched slightly under the doctor's hand.
"Tony, please, eat."
"No, I don't have time." the mechanic replied soulessly, staring intently at his designs.
"Tony, that can wait. You need to eat first." the doctor tried.
"No, I don't. If you guys say that I work slow, why are you trying to slow me down even more? Leave me alone. If you want to eat, eat. Don't waste my time."
With that, Tony continued to work on Clint's arrows, deciding to add concentrated acid and a computer virus.
Once again, the Avengers had failed Tony Stark.
So that's it for now. Please, do leave reviews, especially constructive criticism, as well as prompts. Thanks, and have a Christmas!