Happy Labor Day to everyone in the US! I hope you at least have some way to celebrate considering everything that's going on.

Tuesday, January 31st, 2012

Tony's chest tightened. He tried to inhale but found that he couldn't. There was no air to breathe anyway. He was trapped in a vacuum.

Images flashed through Tony's mind at a rapid rate. Some flashed by so fast he couldn't make out the details. Others he could see clearly. There were the bright orange glares of explosions; the light slowly fading out of Yinsin's eyes; Pepper's face contorted unnaturally as she cried out in pain… Then there was Steve's voice coming over the comms, sadly saying the accursed words; "Tony, you know that's a one-way trip."

It was a one-way trip. It still is. He kept thinking he escaped; that he fell back through the portal and lived happily ever after with his little boyfriend, but he never did. He was still there, deep in space watching the missile detonate, taking out the Chitauri ship. He was watching the last few moments of his life – soundtracked to a song that once soothed him in childhood, but now only caused him heartbreak.

"Szomorú vasárnap száz fehér virággal

Vártalak kedvesem templomi imával

Almokat kergetö vasárnap délelött

Bánatom hintaya nélküled visszajölt"

Tony was sitting upright before he even fully woke up. He panted hard and his eyes darted around the room. His panic increases as he failed to recognize his surroundings. The dark blue walls and the paintings hanging on them were unfamiliar and started closing in on him. That was until he looked down to his left and saw Steve peacefully asleep in the bed beside him. It was only then that Tony had the presence of mind to try to relax.

He leaned back against the headboard and shut his eyes; his only focus was on breathing. He reminded himself that he and Steve were safe and so was everyone else. (Well, with the possible exceptions of Barton and Romanoff.) No invasions were happening, and the world was going to spin on as normal.

Except nothing was normal. None of it was normal. What he saw and what he experienced was beyond the realm of comprehension. It wasn't real, yet it was all too real at the same time. He couldn't get it out of his mind; out of his thoughts; out of his being. This was part of who Tony was now and honestly, he didn't think he could accept it. The thought of being like this forever twisted his stomach so much that he thought he was going to vomit.

Immediately, Tony was on his feet and racing into the bathroom. By the time he got there, though, the feeling had passed. For a few moments, Tony stood in the middle of the room, shaking. He kept waiting for the nausea to return, but it didn't. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked around the room and slowly lowered himself to the floor.

The hardwood barely squeaked as Tony sat down. It was top-quality and felt nice and smooth with all the layers of lacquer that covered it. Looking around, Tony couldn't help but be amazed at what a good job both Steve and Pepper had done. It wasn't just the bathroom; the entire apartment looked amazing and it was all thanks to Steve's designs and Pepper's attention to detail. For half a second, it took his mind off the nightmare. It was nice, but it was only for half a second.

In the next half of the second, the anxiety returned full force. His eyes went to the sink automatically and he jumped forwards, hoping to seek out the flask he kept in the cabinet, but he stopped himself. The memories of withdrawal pains were too fresh. He didn't want to go through that again. Besides, Pepper had already taken care of that flask, along with all the others hidden throughout the apartment. He was sure. He checked. Slowly, Tony pressed his forehead against the edge of the sink.

What is wrong with me? he thought. What, am I trying to throw this all away?

It was the truth. He knew if he got drunk again, he'd lose Steve. Steve hadn't said anything directly like that – neither as a statement nor a threat – but there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them that if Tony started drinking again, Steve would leave. It was especially clear after those days Tony spent going through withdrawals. Although Steve was as careful, loving, and supportive as anyone could be when their partner was going through that, it was clear that he couldn't be put through it again. It would break him. In all honesty, though, Tony didn't think he could survive going through withdrawals again – Steve or no Steve.

Eventually, Tony pulled himself up off the floor. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and was startled. He was clearly pale and to some extent he still had the shakes. His eyes were encircled by dark shadows that almost looked like bruises. He touched them gently to make sure that they weren't. The didn't hurt, so he took that as a good sign. However, he could clearly see how people believed that he could possibly be sick. Hell, he almost believed it himself. His hands then went to his jawline. After a week of not shaving, his goatee had grown scruffy. He knew he was going to have to take care of that, but not right now. Instead, he turned and went back to the bedroom.

Slowly, he made his way over to Steve's side of the bed and sat on the edge, careful not to disturb him. For the most part, Steve was a light sleeper, so its surprised Tony that he didn't wake him up with the nightmare. Then again, it had been a rough few days and he doubted Steve had slept much either. Tony smiled. Steve always looked so beautiful when he was asleep. His face was tensionless, and he looked even younger than he usually did. It never failed to captivate Tony.

Gently, he ran his fingers through Steve's hair. He heard him give what sounded like a little – and completely adorable – squeak of pleasure in his sleep, but otherwise, Steve still didn't stir. Tony's smile grew wider as he entangled his fingers in Steve's hair further.

God, if only you knew how gorgeous you are. I wouldn't stand a chance. I still don't stand a chance.

Tony's gaze went away from Steve's face and down to the floor. He really didn't deserve Steve. No matter how many times Steve told him otherwise, Tony couldn't bring himself to believe it. How could he? Steve was perfect. Tony had been told so his entire life, but he didn't believe it until he met him in person. Steve was, in fact, perfect, but not anything like how Howard had described him when he was younger. Steve was thoughtful, loving, and kind. He was there for Tony when he needed him. He was there for Tony when he needed him and even when he didn't. Steve was both physically and mentally strong, and just being near him could make a person feel like they could do anything. A man like that – in Tony's eyes, at least – was perfect, and that was why he didn't deserve him. It was impossible for someone as imperfect as him to stand alongside someone as perfect as Steve. He knew. He'd been trying his whole life.

Giving Steve's hair one last run-through, Tony got up and started walking. Initially, he was just going to lie down on the other side of the bed, but instead he ended up just following his feet through the door and out into the hallway. The door directly across from their bedroom was to Tony's private office. Without even thinking about it, he opened the door and stopped in the doorframe.

Tony's private office was nothing compared to his and Bruce's lab downstairs, but it was serviceable. Most of the time he spent in here was taken up by doing paperwork and other annoying stuff for SI. As much as he loved his company, there were a lot of things that came along with being the owner of it that just plain wasn't fun. At least now that he wasn't CEO he didn't have as much to do.

Slowly, Tony's eyes scanned the room. It looked much like it did the last time he was in there. It had been one of the few rooms in the apartment that had been finished prior to him and Steve moving in, so Pepper hadn't touched it. Well, that was other than to get rid of all the booze.

In the left corner of the room there was a bar setup. It once held several expensive bottles of fine liquors, but now it was completely bare and empty. Pepper had done as he had asked and poured all the alcohol down the drain. When he had been going through withdrawals, Tony had managed to get out from under Steve's supervision long enough to come in this room to try to seek relief from the pain. He had hoped to find at least one bottle that Pepper had missed. However, she had been thorough and not a single drop of alcohol remained. Shortly after that, Steve came in and led him back to bed. Standing in the office now; looking at that bar; Tony couldn't help but feel ashamed.

He had never wanted to become like Howard. That was his worst nightmare before he discovered his real worst nightmare. Howard had been a very angry, abusive drunk. Tony could hardly recall any point during his childhood where Howard wasn't drunk. He was even certain that Howard had been drinking the night of the car accident. As much as he publicly blamed the car's breaking systems (to the point where he actually bought out the company that made the car just so he could completely redesign that model's breaks as well as many of it's other safety features) Tony knew deep in his heart that it had been Howard's fault. Even if the braking system was defective, it was ultimately Howard's decision to get behind the wheel. It was his fault. He was the reason that Tony's mother was dead, and it would take a lot to convince him otherwise. He would never forgive Howard for that, which was why Tony felt so guilty as he stared at that bar.

He had let things get too far out of hand. Whether or not it was a "problem" was a discussion for a different day, but it was out of control. It honestly made him afraid. He had become just as reckless as Howard had been and from what he could remember, all he cared about was keeping up his buzz. Nothing else mattered to him – not Steve and not anyone or anything else – just the booze. That truly scared him. He didn't want to become like that. He didn't want to hurt the people he loved. He wanted to protect them. From what, he didn't quite know yet, but he knew that he wanted – no, needed to protect them.

He knew where he needed to start. He needed to stop drinking, at least for now. Although pangs of denial rippled throughout his brain, Tony knew that even if it wasn't a "problem," it needed to stop. He couldn't protect anyone if he was trashed. That was kind of a given, and now that the alcohol had been eliminated from the apartment, Tony knew what the next step had to be.

He stepped through the doorframe, into the office, and through the door that led to the assembly station for his armor. It was one of many placed throughout the building. He had it set up so that way he could be on almost any floor and be able to get suited up and ready for battle at any time. The armor wasn't what he was going into the assembly station for, though. He was after his tool bag.

The night before they flew out to D.C., Tony had been working on the MK13 armor. It wasn't as ready for use in battle yet and he was more likely to call for the MK12 if something had happened, but he still felt the need to but the MK13 on standby, just in case. Thankfully, Armageddon didn't rain down upon them, so there ended up being no need.

Tony remembered leaving his tools out there after Steve came to get him to come to bed. Pushing the doors open, he was immediately greeted by a burst of cold air. Tony's skin prickled at the sensation as he was only wearing a tank-top and pajama pants made of a very thin material. The doors leading to the outdoor launch/landing pad were drafty and there wasn't much Tony could do about it without putting something in the way of the machinery. So, he would just have to suffer through the bitterly freezing January-in-New-York air for a few minutes while he got what he needed.

Stepping over to the bag, Tony picked it up and took stock of all its contents. Everything he might need was in there, except for a sledgehammer. However, he only intended to use that as a last resort. So, Tony figured he could live without it for now. Besides, if worse came to worst, he knew there was one downstairs in the lab. It was no big deal.

Satisfied he had everything necessary – at least for now – Tony went back out into the office, careful to shut the door behind him as to not let any colder air in. Once inside, he set his sights on the bar. He couldn't stand to look at it anymore. Just having it there felt like temptation even if there wasn't any alcohol inside. The saying was "out of sight, out of mind," and hopefully he could push at least some of the temptation to drink out of mind if he took apart the bar and got it out of the apartment.

Although, another saying also applied to that task; "easier said than done." Tony didn't install the bar himself. He had paid a guy to do it for him. Because of that, he didn't know exactly how it was put together and therefore he didn't know exactly how to take it apart. However, it wasn't like that was a problem. He didn't really care if he broke something or tore it apart – after all he still had the sledgehammer as an option – but not knowing exactly what he was doing would slow the process significantly and that was a bit annoying. Tony cold be a patient man, but right now he didn't want to waste time. He just wanted it done.

Some things couldn't be helped, though. So, Tony just hoped he could get away with winging it for now. Getting behind the bar and down on his knees, Tony started by taking the doors off the cabinets, which was an easy enough task. After that, he moved on to removing the shelves. He had to lie on his back and angled his head oddly to spot where the screws were, he managed to do it and got the shelves out without too much difficulty. Once he had all the shelves removed, he could easily see where all the bolts holding the countertop together were and set about removing them.

Removing all the bolts and screws was rather easy. However, once he was done, Tony was faced with another problem. The countertop was made from a heavy stone. He couldn't be sure what type of stone (though he knew it wasn't marble or granite) but he knew that it at least felt disproportionately heavy. Although he certainly wasn't as strong on his own as he was with the armor, Tony was still a pretty strong guy. He figured at the very least, he could lower the countertop slowly and gently on to the ground. At least, that was what he thought.

Tony walked around the bar a few times, trying to discern the best way of removing the countertop. In the end, he decided to get in front of the bar and tried to pull the countertop forward and down from there. It seemed like the best choice since he had more space in front of the bar to set the countertop down than he did behind it or on either side. That seemed good enough for him. However, what Tony didn't consider that lifting a stone of that weight and unusual shape was a job for two or more able-bodied men. As a result, Tony couldn't manage to distribute his strength properly and ended up dropping the countertop to the ground with a loud slam!

"Shit!"

Tony stepped out of the way fast enough that he narrowly avoided having the countertop come down on his toes. For a second, he had to gasp in shock while he pressed a hand to his chest. He didn't think his heart was beating too abnormally given the circumstance, but he still had to check. Assured that he wasn't having a heart attack, Tony turned his scrutiny to his fingers and toes. All of them were attached and there were no tell-tale signs of bruising or bleeding, so he figured he was good to go on that front.

Turning his gaze back to the bar, Tony was a little afraid of what he'd see. Luckily, there wasn't too much damage. The countertop hadn't cracked or broken when it landed and the floor appeared to be unmarked, so that was a win. He was about to try to pick up the counter and set it down properly when the door to the office came flying open.

Tony turned to see Steve standing in the doorway, his hair a mess and his eyes frantic. Tony swallowed guiltily. He hadn't meant to wake up Steve, but he ended up doing it anyway and it seemed like he'd given him quite a fright. Steve hadn't bothered to put on any clothes; he was still in his underwear as he had rushed straight from bed as soon as he heard the crash. A little bit of relief came across his face as soon as he spotted Tony, but he still appeared frazzled.

"Are you hell happened?" Tony had trouble suppressing his snort of laughter. Clearly in his frantic state, Steve had tried to say, "are you okay?" and "what the hell happened?" at the same time. Tony wanted to laugh harder, but for Steve's sake, he kept his reaction subdued.

"I'm fine," he quickly assured. "I'm fine, don't worry." He held his hands up and flipped them so Steve could see both sides. "Not a scratch on me." Slowly, Steve seemed to let out a breath he'd been holding.

"You're okay?" he said, scanning his eyes up and down Tony's body to be sure he hadn't missed any injuries.

"I'm okay," he assured again. Steve nodded before glancing around the room.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I dropped the countertop." Tony didn't give any further explanation. Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Okay," he said. "Why were you moving the countertop?"

"Because I'm getting rid of the bar." A look of surprise crossed Steve's face.

"Really?" Tony nodded. "Do you need help?" It was Tony's turn to look surprised.

"What?" he questioned. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "Why would I offer to help if I wasn't serious?"

"I just…" Tony hesitated a moment. "Aren't you going to ask more questions?"

"Do you need me to ask more questions?" Tony shook his head.

"No," he said softly.

"Then I won't," Steve said. "I'll just help." Tony's lips quirked upright.

"Thank you," he said.

"No problem," Steve said. "Now, what can I do to help?" Tony turned to look behind him at the disassembled mess of the bar.

"Well," he said. "I guess we should start with the countertop but be careful. I don't think it's broken, but I can't be sure. Besides, it's heavy and probably a two-person job. So, how about I take one side…"

While Tony had been talking, Steve had walked right up to the countertop and picked it up almost effortlessly. It was only then that Tony remembered that his boyfriend could literally bench press a bus. He frowned.

"Show off," he muttered.

"Yeah," Steve said. "But you can't deny that you enjoy it." Alright, Tony had to give Steve that, especially since he wasn't wearing any clothes to obscure the view of his flexing muscles. "Where do you want this?"

"Uh, can you take it out and put it by the elevator for now?" Tony asked. "We'll worry about getting it out of the apartment later. I just want it out of here."

"Alright," Steve said as he made his way towards the door.

It turned out to be a two-person job anyway. Steve was holding the countertop vertically. It was just a little bit taller than he was, so he couldn't see where he was going. At first, he tried walking backwards towards the door so he could turn and at least attempt to see where he was going, but that didn't really work out. Instead, Tony directed him around the furniture and over to the foyer area slowly, which went a lot more smoothly. Steve set the countertop down on the floor by the elevator carefully as not to cause another crash. Thankfully, he didn't drop it like Tony had and the two of them headed back into the office to move on to the next task.

The countertop was the heaviest piece of the bar. The rest of it was made from a lightweight, yet strong wood, so Tony could easily handle taking it apart on his own. However, he didn't stop Steve from helping him. In fact, he appreciated the help. It made things go faster and it felt a lot easier than when he was doing it on his own. Not to mention he got to surreptitiously observe his shirtless boyfriend while he worked. Oh, the fantasies that sparked…

They managed to finish only a short bit later and sat down on the floor in the space that used to be behind the bar with their backs against the window. Both were silent, taking in the fruits of their efforts. Tony ran his foot along the indentation the bar had left behind on the floor. It wasn't that deep given that the bar had only been there for a few months, but it was still noticeable. Tony sighed.

"So, are you still going to hold off on asking questions?" Tony turned to look at Steve, who shrugged.

"What questions are there to ask?"

"Plenty," Tony said.

"And do you really want to answer any of them?" Tony hesitated.

"Yes," he said warily. Steve didn't look convinced. "Alright, some I really don't know the answers to. Others… I want to be honest with you. I really do. I'm just scared…" Tony felt Steve place a hand on his shoulder, so he looked him right in the eyes.

"Then you don't need me to pressure you into giving answers you might not be able to give," Steve said. "Just tell me what you know right now, up front. If you don't want to say anything, it's fine." As much as Tony would have liked to stay silent, he still felt as though he owed Steve an explanation.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know what I'm doing. I know it needs to stop – the drinking, that is – but I can't…" Tony brought his hand to his forehead and took a deep breath. "I can't decide whether or not I want to make this a permanent thing. Part of me knows that I should do it; that it's the right thing to do. The other part…" He shook his head. "The other part just keeps telling me that I know I'm not that strong."

"But you are." Tony laughed humorlessly.

"Steve," he said. "I'm forty-one years old. I've been drinking since I was nine. That's thirty-two years of unfettered addiction. That's tough to break."

"And you can do it," Steve said. "I know you can." Tony smiled for a moment, but it quickly faded back into a frown.

"I appreciate your encouragement," he said. "But let's be realistic."

"I am being realistic," Steve said. "You can do this. You're strong, and even if you're not I'm right here. I'll do anything and everything in my power to help you, Tony."

"What about when it becomes too much?" he asked.

"You're never too much." Tony looked down and his frown deepened.

"I know how bad it can get," he said. "For God's sake, I just finished going through withdrawals yesterday. I know how bad it can get and I know it can happen again. I don't want it to happen again, but I know it will."

"And if it does, I'll be right there with you," Steve assured. "We'll get through it together."

"No, you won't," Tony said. "I saw you then. It was too much for you. You wanted to leave."

"But did I? Tony, look at me." Tony hesitated before complying. Once again, he was completely mesmerized by the clear conviction in Steve's blue eyes. "Did I?"

"No," Tony said. "But you wanted to."

"What I wanted was to put an end to your pain," Steve said. "You were struggling, crying, and nothing I did could help you. I've never seen anyone in so much pain. I was scared that you could have… That the only way you would get better would be…"

Tony could feel a crack form in his heart. Steve couldn't bring himself to say the words – probably for fear that if he said it aloud, it would happen – but Tony knew exactly what he meant. He was afraid that Tony was going to die; that the only way for him to be free of withdrawal pains would be if he died. It was a dark thought; one that Tony couldn't claim that he hadn't had himself, especially in the thick of it.

"I know," Tony said. "And I'm sorry I put you through that. You never should have had to, but…" Tony sighed. "I'd like to say that it's not going to happen again, but I can't because I know myself. I'm a dumpster fire with literally no impulse control. I know that I'll eventually end up drinking again just like I know that it's eventually going to rain. I'm not going to succeed at this, Steve. I know that. So please, take this as a warning: get off the ride before you get hurt."

"No," Steve said. "I'm not going to leave you."

"Steve…" Tony could feel tears pricking at his eyes.

"Unless you want me to," Steve said. "Do you?"

"I just want the pain to stop," Tony said. "For you and me both."

"And do you really think breaking up would spare us that pain?" Steve asked. "Not just add to it?" Tony didn't even need to think about it to know the answer.

"No," he said. "But you deserve better than this."

"I don't give a damn about what I deserve," Steve said. "What I care about is what you deserve, and that is someone who will stick by you no matter what." He took Tony's hand. "If you want to get sober, I'll help you. If you relapse, I'll be right there to help you set yourself straight again. I promise that I'll always be there for you." A tear spilled over and dribbled down Tony's cheek.

"Alright," he said. "If that doesn't put you in the running for boyfriend of the year…" Steve lips turned upwards, and Tony returned the smile for a moment before looking back down. "Fuck, I'm so sorry for all of this."

"There's nothing to apologize for," Steve said.

"Even so…" Tony took a deep breath before he brought himself to look Steve in the eyes again. "Also, just so you know, that's a two-way street. I know I'm a flaming hot mess and everything always comes down on me, but if you need anything, I'm there. I promise." Steve smiled.

"Thank you," he said. Tony pulled himself closer to Steve.

"I know I couldn't put it as eloquently as you did…" Steve cut him off with a quick kiss.

"It's perfect."

Within a fraction of a second, Tony moved to straddle Steve and had him locked in a deep, passionate kiss. Things got heated rather fast. Tony could feel his heart pounding in his chest as one kiss melted into another. As they breathlessly parted for a moment, an idea popped into Tony's head. Pressing a quick kiss to Steve's cheek, Tony brought his lips over to his ear.

"I know how to make this up to you," he whispered before pecking Steve's temple.

"You don't need to make up for anything," he said softly. Tony shushed him.

"You'll like this."

Tony trailed his tongue down to Steve's jawline, where he started to leave tiny kisses as he made his way south. He paused for a moment to pay special attention to a part of Steve's neck that he knew made him moan when nibbled and was rewarded in kind. Continuing to travel downwards, Tony left a trail of kisses, nibbles, and hot breath that lead right down to the hem of Steve's underwear.

Gently gripping the edge of the waistband on both sides, Tony looked up and met Steve's eyes. God, he loved how flushed and breathless he looked. Steve panted a few times before he found himself able to speak.

"Yes," he gasped out in response to the unspoken question. "Please, Tony."

That was all he needed to hear. Pulling the underwear down with one quick motion, Steve was left exposed to the air.

Natasha was the epitome of the term "light sleeper." The Red Room had trained it into her from day one. It started with the trainers startling her and the other girls awake at random points during the night. However, as they grew and honed their skills, the trainers from just startling them to full-on attacking them as they slept. As a result, even many years later, Nat was constantly on guard as she slept; waiting for the next attack to come.

This was why when she heard one of the side doors squeak open, Natasha immediately pulled one of her guns from its holster and pointed it in the direction of the defenseless nurse who just walked in. The woman held up her hands to show that she had no weapons and carefully spoke in calm tones.

"Agent Romanoff," she said. "I'm just here to take Agent Barton's vitals. I don't mean any harm to you, him, or anyone else."

Slowly letting out a breath, Natasha lowered the gun and put it back in its holster. Relieved, the nurse quickly made her way over to Clint and began running her tests. Nat watched closely, trying to ascertain if the prognosis was good or bad before the nurse even needed to speak. However, it was impossible. The nurse's face was stone cold as she went about her work. It was the mark of a seasoned expert in her field. So, Nat couldn't discern anything. Defeated, she sat up and moved to sit on the edge of the hospital bed and waited for the nurse to finish.

"How is he?" she immediately asked. The nurse looked up but remained unphased.

"His blood pressure is starting to return to normal levels," she said. "And his body is still trying to fight the infection." The nurse caught Natasha's dissatisfied look. "Only time will tell, but in my professional opinion, he has a fighting chance." Nat nodded.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome." The nurse started to move back towards the door she came from. "Dr. Wayne asked me to remind you that your next blood test is in three hours. Try to squeeze in whatever rest you can before then."

Natasha nodded and thanked the woman again. The nurse then left without another word. Nat knew she should lie back down, but she couldn't. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Clint, who was fast asleep in the bed across from her. The vinyl panel that had separated the two haves of the room had been removed as Nat had already been exposed, so it wasn't like separating her from Clint would prevent anything. As a result, Nat had both an uninterrupted view of Clint and the rest of the room, and nothing blocking her from the guilt of the horrible acts she had almost done in his name. She looked down and took a deep breath before bringing her eyes back to Clint.

"I'm sorry."

Special thanks to mammal and DiveTooDeep on AO3 for the kudos and comments! It really means a lot! :)

Yeah... TBH, this is the closest I'm probably going to get to writing porn, so enjoy it, people. I'm not giving you any more than implications, cut-to-black, and coitus interruptus. Hate me all you like, but I'm not comfortable writing it, end of discussion.

Since the last author's note was monstrous, I'll keep this one short and sweet. Be sure to review, comment, leave kudos, favorite, and follow.

Remember kids, shaming someone into writing something that they don't want to is bad.

Originally posted to FFN on 9/7/20.