Tony woke from his nap, cursing. He had a kink in his neck from sleeping curled up on his couch in the workshop. He could barely straighten it. Just what he wanted to deal with on top of everything else.
Stomach grumbling, he stretched but stopped because of the pain. He rubbed at it for a minute, trying to loosen it, but it was a lost cause. Unsure how long he slept, he checked the time. It was later than he thought, and he knew if he didn't eat soon, Friday would tattle.
He was just about to get up to go upstairs when his workshop door opened. Living alone for so long, he hadn't had much need for locking the door. There were only his bots to bother him before, but now there were people, and not just any people, but nosey people who like to drop in and pester him. He really needed to get back in the habit of setting the locks.
What he saw when he looked up, made him freeze. There were two rather oversized super soldiers staring back at him. He wasn't ready to face them together. It wasn't fair that this was the hand he was dealt. He didn't want to sound like he was wallowing in his own self-pity, but maybe he was. He just didn't have it in him to fight more, and he really didn't want to see Steve and Bucky ogling each other in front of him.
It quickly became clear that they had entered some type of staring contest, and Tony was going to be damned if he gave in first, so he just held their gaze and squared his shoulders. It was ridiculous that this was what his life had come to. The fact no one spoke made the air in the room awkward. Tony was considering looking away when Bucky carefully, and ever so slowly, raised a brow, the smallest smirk playing on his lips. Apparently, this was funny to him.
Between everything that was going on and the pain in his neck, he wasn't in the mood. He practically growled as he spoke. "Glad someone is amused."
Bucky's expression changed at his harsh tone, his lips tugging down in a frown, his eyes soft and concerned. He was looking at Tony like he was something to be coddled like he was kitten someone found in a dumpster that needed to be saved. Tony studied Steve who seemed to be on the same page as Bucky. For a second, he wondered why they were looking at him like that, but then he remembered. Tony had given the green light for Steve to tell Bucky, which meant they were there to throw him a pity party. The last thing he needed or wanted was pity.
"We came down to see how you were doing," Steve said. "We ordered food."
"Not hungry." Tony scowled. He went to get up, but the movement pulled on his neck, making him wince. A small whimper might have even passed his lips as he tried to readjust, though he'd never admit to it.
What happened next, he never saw coming.
Bucky stepped forward, crossing the room and crouching down in front of him. Tony jumped at the intrusion into his personal space, making his neck pull painfully. He hissed out a curse, reaching up and rubbing at the knot in his neck and shoulder.
"Slept wrong, huh?" Bucky drawled, sending a shiver down his spine. He'd never heard that tone from the man before. It did things to him that he didn't want to admit to. "Let me." He brushed Tony's hand away and began rubbing where the knot had formed. He had no idea why he wasn't protesting, they barely knew each other, but his warm, calloused hand felt good working against his tired muscles, so for once, he ignored his logical side and just enjoyed it. He could spend hours later dissecting what it meant. Chalk it up to another reason he shouldn't have fired his therapist.
He may have made some pathetic noises of contentment as Bucky worked out the knot. His brain seemed to be turning to mush as he found himself resting his head on Bucky's shoulder. He couldn't help but notice how good he smelled. Was that even cologne or just his natural scent? He really should put a stop to this. Clearly, he was off his rocker more than he thought to be letting Bucky Barnes of all people give him a neck rub. It was so insane, it was funny.
"Better?" Bucky asked, still rubbing his neck.
"Little," Tony whimpered, his head still resting on Bucky's shoulder. He didn't want to move. He felt weirdly comfortable there even though he barely knew the man. Tony could see why Steve liked him. He was gentle despite having spent the last seventy years as a brainwashed murder bot. "So, I assume Steve told you. Should I get the streamers out for the pity party?"
"Nope, no pity." Bucky worked his thumb into a particularly sore spot. "Just want to help you—both of us do."
Tony lifted his head and looked into the eyes of the ex-assassin—not expecting the compassion he saw, the warmth. He knew logically Bucky wasn't the man that had murdered his parents, that the Winter Soldier had been in control, but seeing his eyes, he really got it. He was James Buchanan Barnes—a guy who been dealt an even worse hand in life than he had and was still standing. Tony understood what Steve saw in him. How could he not?
"I don't need any help." Tony pulled away, leaning back. "Or more babysitters, and if this is some weird guilt complex thing, you don't have to worry—everything is fine between us."
Steve walked over and sat beside him on the couch. "Tony, we aren't doing this because we feel guilty. We are doing this because we care. Why is that so hard for you to accept?"
"People shouldn't care about me."
He started digging the burn he got soldering a few days before, peeling the blister apart—the pain grounded him. It was something he sometimes did when things felt out of control. He'd pick at old wounds or even cause new ones. He was so used to doing it that he didn't give it a second thought until a strong hand gently took his.
"Not gonna let you hurt yourself." Bucky's voice was soft. He rubbed his thumbs rubbing back and forth over his pulse point. "Think there's been enough hurt passed around already. No need to go causing more."
Tony should have pulled his wrist free, but instead, he let Bucky hold him. It was odd and different but not necessarily wrong. He didn't know what to make of it. A tiny piece of him, the smallest part he kept tucked away, whispered things he didn't want to hear because they could never be true—things like maybe there was more to it. Maybe there was room for him somewhere in it all. He knew better than to hope or let that tiny piece of him get too loud. It would only hurt more if he did. He needed to accept that they were just nice to him because they felt bad. It was just what people did.
"Why don't you come upstairs and have some dinner with us?" Bucky said, thumb still sliding back and forth over the sensitive skin of his wrist.
"Come on." Steve put a hand on his back. "You need to eat."
Bucky stood up and offered him a hand. He considered it for a moment, but then figured things couldn't possibly get stranger, so he accepted his help and carefully stood. The soldier smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. Bucky led the way, and Steve followed behind. He knew it didn't make a lot of sense, which might have been due to his lack of sleep, but being between them didn't feel so bad. At least for the moment, it made him feel safe, even if Tony didn't understand it—it was something he hadn't felt in a long time. He wanted to wrap himself in the feeling while he could.
They made their way to the common room where the TV was on, and the others were stretched out on the couches; takeout containers littered the coffee table.
"He lives," Natasha greeted him. "Sit down, grab some food. There's more than enough to go around."
Tony drew a breath, letting it out slowly. "Thanks." He walked over and poked through the boxes.
Nothing seemed very appealing, but he knew Rhodey, Friday, and now two soldiers were watching to make sure he ate. He settled on a small container of rice. He wanted to go back to his workshop and eat, but he knew he should try to be social. He grabbed a fork and took a seat on an empty couch. Steve and Bucky were quick to sit with him. He didn't look up at the others, but he could feel them watching him.
He poked at the rice for a minute before taking a bite. It didn't settle well in his stomach, but he ate it anyway. Even though it was a small amount, he couldn't finish it—a testimony to how little he was used to eating. He'd been on a nearly liquid diet for a while now—mostly coffee and smoothies. Food was either something he didn't have time for or something he was too exhausted to make.
He set the container down and glanced up to see Rhodey giving him the 'Don't Think I Didn't Notice You Not Eating' look. Tony shrugged in response, and Rhodey just shook his head.
"Thanks for dinner, guys," Tony said, pushing himself from the couch. "But I have some work to do, so I'm gonna head back to the shop."
"You just got here," Sam protested. "Stay, hang out, live a little. You've kept yourself locked up for days."
"Sorry, but work doesn't wait. I'll catch you guys later." Tony quickly turned, heading back to the safety of his workshop.
"Tones," he heard Rhodey call from behind him, but he didn't stop. It was just starting to sink in how weird things had just gotten, and he needed to escape. He needed to get his defenses back up and to stop letting blue-eyed soldiers find ways behind his walls.
Once he reached his workshop, he first made sure to set it to lockdown, and then he went to the freezer and grabbed an ice pack. He settled down on the couch, sitting down carefully and pressing the pack to his hip. He felt awful—like he had the flu, but he knew in a few days, the worst would be over.
"Friday, give me something to work on," he said. "I don't care what."
A second later, the schematics for Clint's hearing aids were in front of him. He expanded the hologram, looking for ways to improve them. It settled his mind for a bit to have something to focus on. Eventually, pleased with the new design, he had Friday began fabricating the parts.
The stress of the day had gotten to him, and his head began to hurt. He got up and walked over to the cabinet, digging for some ibuprofen. Finding the bottle, he shook a few into his hand. He grabbed a water from the fridge, twisting the cap off, and popping the pills in his mouth. He swallowed them down and then went to see how the hearing aids were coming along. The parts were nearly done.
Satisfied, he walked over and started a pot of coffee only to be interrupted by Friday.
"Boss," his AI spoke. "Coffee this late in the evening could be counterproductive to your sleep schedule. May I suggest another beverage such as herbal tea?"
Tony growled, glaring at the ceiling. "Fuck this. Friday, deactivate Missing Marbles protocol, override code 83912-Foxtrot-Echo-Victor."
"Protocol has been deactivated," Friday spoke. "Is there anything else I can assist you with?"
Tony grabbed a dirty mug and walked over to the sink, washing it out. "Nope." He turned off the water. "That'll be all."
He went back to the coffee maker and poured a cup, taking a sip. He relaxed a little, enjoying the familiar aroma and taste.
"Incoming call from Ms. Potts."
"Go ahead," Tony said. "Patch her through."
"Tony, I got a text from Friday. You deactivated the protocol." Pepper's voice was strained. "What's going on?"
Just then, there was a knock on the door—probably Rhodey. He'd forgotten Friday sent out notices.
"Hang on a sec, Pep," he said. "Friday, tell Rhodey I'm fine and talking to Pepper please."
Pepper sighed. "So, what's going on, Tony?"
"Nothing, I just wanted some space." He took a sip of his coffee. "It just got too much when my own AI started telling me I drink too much coffee. I'm feeling claustrophobic in my own home. I'm being a good boy. I'm taking my meds. I'm trying, Pep, but you guys got to cut me a little slack here."
There was more to it than that, but she didn't need to know about what happened earlier with Bucky and Steve. She'd probably insist on calling Dr. Cho if she found out. Not that he'd blame her. Letting your almost ex's new boyfriend close enough to give you a neck massage could be classified as strange behavior.
He heard her sigh. "I'm sorry, Tony. No one meant to make you feel uncomfortable. We just worry. We know how hard you can crash. We weren't trying to smother you. I'm sorry it made you feel that way."
"I know you mean well, and I can't blame you after the things I've put you through," he said. "But I promise that I am trying my best right now."
"Okay, I'll trust you on that for now, so how's everything else going?"
He rubbed at his temple. His headache still lingering. "Honestly?"
"Preferably."
"I don't know. I feel like crap," Tony started. "I'm still adjusting to being back on meds. They're making me tired all day. Sometimes I can still feel Steve's shield in my chest, but the weird thing is, I can't seem to be mad at him for it. It's the opposite. If I'm honest, Pep, I want to be around him. I like being near him. How fucked up is that?"
"Well, you never do the predictable thing." She laughed.
He downed the last of his coffee. "Both him and Bucky went out of their way to be nice to me today—which was weird, and even though I don't understand why, I guess I liked it. I'm not supposed to like being around them. I should want to keep my distance, but I don't. I know this is insane, Pep, but they make me feel safe. Again, how fucked-up am I?"
"Oh, Tony," Pepper said. "Wanting to be around people isn't a bad thing. Did you tell them?"
"Yeah, well, I kind of told Steve, and he passed it along to Bucky. We all had a moment."
"That's great, Tony. It's a step in the right direction. You need people you can count on—people who care."
"It just means more people I can hurt." He leaned against the counter. "Like how I hurt you. Because you can't lie and say you don't have nightmares from finding me like that."
"Tony." She sighed. "Don't do that to yourself. You deserve to have friends who love you. We've all made mistakes in our life. Dwelling on the past, punishing yourself, it isn't going to help you now or in the future." He heard her draw a breath. "I think I need to make something clear because you don't seem to catch the obvious sometimes. I forgive you, Tony—for everything and anything that big, genius brain of yours thinks you've done wrong. I forgive you, and I think you need to forgive yourself, too."
He let her words sink in for a moment. It settled funny in his gut. It went against the grain of his internal dialogue. His mind was a constant stream of the ways he wasn't good enough, the ways he hurt people, the ways let people down. It was hard to go against the thoughts. He tried to hang onto her words, though—like a lifeline.
Tears began pricking at his eyes, and he was thankful he was alone. He wiped them away with his sleeve.
"I hate this, Pep," he said. "I hate how much it hurts. I don't know what normal feels like because I have never been normal, and I'm so fucking tired. We've tried so many meds, so many combinations, but the stability never lasts. I just fuck it up, and I don't know why. I feel like I keep letting people down."
And then he was sobbing, broken, ugly sobs, tears running down his cheeks. If Howard could only see him now.
"Sweetheart, I know it hurts," she said. "I wish I could take the pain away, but if you'd let people in, let people help you, I promise it will be better. You've been hiding this for so long—struggling on your own. It doesn't have to be this hard."
Tony hiccupped back a sob—fucking hiccupped. He set his cup down and grabbed a handful of paper towels and wet them with lukewarm water from the sink. He wiped his face and drew a shaky breath.
"What if they leave me again?" he asked, sounding utterly pathetic. "I don't think I could take it. What if they can't deal with me and leave? I don't think I could handle it again."
"Shhh," Pepper soothed. "You already told me that Bucky and Steve know, and they haven't rejected you—actually, from the sound of it, it's the opposite. I think you'll find the rest of them just as understanding."
"I don't know," Tony said, his head was pounding again despite the ibuprofen he'd taken earlier. "I need time to think."
"I understand. Take your time. Oh, and by the way, Rhodey has texted me about five times now demanding to know if you're alright. I told him you're fine and just taking some time to clear your head."
"Thanks."
"No problem," she said. "Now, go, try to relax. Helen is coming tomorrow to check in on you. Don't forget."
"Thank you, Pep. Make sure to give yourself a raise. I don't pay you nearly enough to deal with my meltdowns."
She laughed. "I'm your friend, Tony. I don't need to be paid to be there for you."
"You're too good for me."
"Get some rest, Tony."
The call disconnected, and he leaned back against the counter. He took a few slow breaths and tried to gather himself. His thoughts wandered to Steve and Bucky, and a warm feeling spread through him. He was letting that broken part of him hope, and it was going to be the end of him.
He looked at the time. It was getting late. He needed to shower and change, maybe eat a little more, too. Sighing, he made his way up toward the kitchen. The group was sitting around watching a movie. Tony glanced over at them. Bucky and Steve were sitting together. Steve had his arm around Bucky's shoulders, fingers toying with his hair. It felt like Tony had been sucker-punched. He felt stupid for letting their concern delude him into thinking there was some hope for something more. They had each other, and they didn't need some broken man coming between them. Steve had made his choice, and in his place, he would have probably made the same decision.
Any thoughts of eating gone, he took off, probably a bit too fast, toward his room. It wasn't until he was nearly there that he noticed he was being followed—two sets of heavy footsteps echoed behind him. He knew without looking who they belonged to.
The closer they got, the more his chest started to hurt. He could hear them gaining ground, and he stumbled over his own feet, hand going to the wall to catch himself. He just needed to get to his room. If he got there, he could take a Valium and calm down—everything would be fine. His vision was getting spotty as he tried to catch his breath—as his lungs burned. He needed to calm down. He stumbled again, but before he could fall, arms were wrapping around him, one metal, one flesh, helping him to his feet.
"Sorry if we scared you." Bucky's voice came from beside his ear. "It looked like you saw a ghost. We wanted to check on you."
"I just need … I need to get to my room," Tony said as he tried to get air into his lungs, but no matter how hard he tried, it didn't feel like he was getting any oxygen. He was getting dizzy and knew he was close to passing out. He needed to get in control of himself. Falling apart wasn't an option.
"Easy, Tony." Steve's voice came from somewhere beside him. "What do you need?"
He shook his head and pulled out of Bucky's arms, still gasping for breath. "I'm fine."
He straightened and made his way to his room, struggling to open the door. He immediately went to the dresser and dug for the bottle he needed. He took two out and chewed them, knowing they would work faster. In his haste to get inside, he'd forgotten that he'd left his door open.
"Would it be okay if we came in?" Steve asked from the doorway. He glanced over to see both soldiers observing him.
Tony nodded, shoving the drawer closed. He didn't have much to lose by inviting them into his room. Things were already a confusing mess between them. He walked over to the bed and sat, looking up at the larger men. He was still breathing fast, but the pills were already beginning to take the edge off his anxiety. "So, was there something you guys wanted?"
"Can we sit?" Bucky nodded to the bed. It was big enough that there was room beside him without feeling crowded.
Tony nodded, still trying to get a lid on his emotions.
They approached him cautiously like they were afraid of startling him. The logical part of his brain was running through a list of reasons that this was all kinds of wrong, but that small, dangerous part was enjoying having them near.
They sat on either side of him, and he couldn't deny the little bit of warmth stirring inside him.
Steve looked over at him, his hands clasped in his lap. "You looked upset earlier—when you saw us. We were worried."
"There's a lot of that going around today." Tony chuckled darkly, picking at his nails. "Thanks for the concern, but I'm used to bad days. You guys could've finished your movie."
"We needed to talk to you." Bucky's voice was serious, and it made Tony's heart speed up. "I know we don't know each other well, but Steve and I, we can't do this. Steve can't pretend he doesn't—"
"Bucky, not now," Steve warned.
This was it. Rejection.
His chest felt like it was being crushed—the major letdown had arrived. Here was karma's cruel retribution for all the pain and death he'd caused. He'd told them the truth, and now they were ditching him. He felt himself sucking in painful breaths. His life was like a carnival game—rigged from the start.
"Tony," Steve said, placing a hand on his back. "You need to calm down. You're safe. Bucky and I are here. You're in the compound. Everything's fine. Come on, Tony, breathe."
He wasn't listening. He was heading full speed into a meltdown. His chest heaved, and he sucked in a wheezy breath. He put his head in his hands, lacing his fingers in his hair. "I knew it," Tony choked. "Pepper was wrong. I shouldn't have believed her. No one wants me. No one wants me."
He'd give anything to get away—to be free from this horrible pain. He hated it. He didn't feel like he had control of his emotions anymore. He didn't deserve the Stark name. Tears started burning their way down his cheeks. He was turning into an emotional wreck.
Bucky got up and knelt in front of him. His cool, metal hand gently nudging Tony's chin up from his chest. "Tony." Bucky's voice was gentle but firm. "No one said they didn't want you. It's actually quite the opposite. We both do."
Tony wiped his tears on his sleeve and blinked at Bucky, looking at him, really looking at him. All he saw were the same kind, gentle eyes he'd seen before, except now they were touched with worry.
He took a few calming breaths, feeling Steve's grounding hand on his back, rubbing gently. He couldn't remember a time he was such an absolute wreck. Even when he'd tried to take his own life, he hadn't cried—actually the opposite. He'd been numb and empty. This was different. He was feeling so much. His emotions tearing him apart.
What Bucky had said didn't make sense—nothing made sense. He needed something to make it all stop—even if only for a moment. He started digging at the burn on his thumb, but before he could do much damage, Bucky gently took his hands into his own. Tony was about to apologize when something happened that made his heart slam to a stop. Bucky lifted his injured hand to his mouth and gently kissed the wound, soft lips lingering for a moment.
"There are better ways to deal with things." Bucky's grip was comforting and reassuring. "You don't need to hurt yourself more. We both care about you too much to let that happen."
He couldn't look away from Bucky's face. When had things changed? How did he come to care so much for a man he barely knew? It was all wrong. It shouldn't be happening, but it was. This wasn't in his plans. He was supposed to keep his distance, stay strong, and keep himself from growing attached. He'd walked this road once before with Steve and barely survived. He didn't think he could make it out alive if he went another round.
"You okay?" Steve didn't sound bothered by what Bucky had done. His hand still moved back and forth across his back as Bucky held his hand. "Tony," Steve prompted again.
He wanted to answer, but his brain was offline. His mind struggled to connect to the dots—to try and piece together how they'd gotten to where they were. His morning had started off so normal.
"This was why I wanted to wait, Buck," he heard Steve say over his thoughts.
"I'm sorry, Stevie, but he needed to know. He needs to know that we want him—that we care."
Well, it'd been a while since he'd lost it completely. He wondered if he was back in the hospital, doped up on the good stuff, maybe in a padded room with some crayons—that would make a lot more sense. Because if there was one thing he knew for a fact, it was that things like this didn't happen in real life. They didn't happen to people like him.
Bucky rubbed his thumb back and forth over the back of Tony's hand. "Come on, Tony," Bucky said softly. "Come back to us." He shifted Tony's hands into his metal one and then reached up to cup Tony's face with his other. It felt strangely real for a hallucination. No matter what it was, it felt good, so he leaned into it, accepting the warmth.
After a few minutes, Tony's brain seemed to finally reboot, and his brow furrowed. He looked to Steve, and then to Bucky, and then back to Steve. "Why are you guys … I mean." He drew a breath. "You're together," he said. "And you kissed my hand." He looked Bucky. "And why do you look so okay with this?" He glanced back at Steve.
Steve sighed. "I wanted to wait to talk to you about it. We didn't want to pressure you or take advantage of you because you're going through so much right now, but like usual, Bucky couldn't hold his horses."
Tony nodded, taking in what Steve just said, but not eliminating the option that he might be gnawing on crayons in some padded room somewhere. "Okay, so what are you saying exactly? That you guys have feelings for me?"
"Tony, you know I loved you before Siberia, and I never stopped," Steve said. "Despite our differences and everything we've been through, you've always held a piece of my heart." His hand slid up to Tony's neck and rubbed gently. He found his eyes slipping closed at the touch.
"You doing okay?" Bucky asked.
He opened his eyes and swallowed, looking to Bucky, who was still gently holding his hands in his metal one. "I don't know. I guess this is a lot to take in. I mean, you've just met me. How can you be sure you even like me?"
Bucky smiled, and Tony almost thought he saw a blush on his cheeks.
"I don't know, but I am." Bucky shrugged. "T'Challa told me stories about you. How hard you'd worked to help me to get a second chance. I can't imagine how hard that was for you, yet you did it anyway. Says a lot about the kind of person you are."
"Once I understood, it was easy. It wasn't you that did those things. It was the Winter Soldier," Tony said, holding Bucky's gaze. "Don't blame yourself for something you couldn't control."
A small smile touched Bucky's lips. "That's what I mean—that right there. You have such a good heart. The way you fought to pardon everyone—how you went to trial to fight for me even though you owed me nothing. You never asked for a thing in return. You even gave us all a home again. When I saw you again, you looked like life had run over you with a truck, and it bothered me. The guy who'd done so much shouldn't be hurting like that."
Tony shook his head. "I'm not a good man, Bucky. I'm a killer—ask Wanda. I can say with fair certainty that at least a quarter or more of the world's population hates me. You know what they used to call me? The Merchant of Death."
He tried to look down, but Bucky gently guided his chin up to meet his gaze. "Why are you so able to forgive others, to see their good, yet you can't see your own? You're not the Merchant of Death anymore. You're a strong and amazing man who works to make the world a better place. You can't keep punishing yourself for the things of the past—just like I can't blame myself for the things Winter did."
"I'm sorry," Tony said, trying to wriggle free. He needed to move. Bucky let his wrists go, standing, so Tony could get to his feet. He began pacing. "We're not the same, Bucky. You were brainwashed into doing those things—I just did them because I could. I built weapons that killed people because I could. I was proud of it. I'm toxic. Everything I touch gets tainted. People have nightmares from just knowing me. Just ask Pepper.
"Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't want to be with you both, I can imagine the headlines now, but what you have, it's pure—seriously, it's like the world's most epic love story. I wouldn't only bring you down with how fucking difficult and needy I am—I'd ruin your relationship. I'm sick—broken. I can barely control when I'm up or when I'm down. I honestly don't know how I'm still alive some days. I hate eating. I hate taking my meds. I'm a horrible morning person. I live on coffee. I'm as high maintenance as it gets." He paused, turning to face them. "I'm not what you need. You deserve better, on so many fucking levels, you deserve better." Tony sighed. "Please don't love me. I'm not worth it."
He stared at them as he caught his breath, waiting for his words to sink in, waiting for them to realize what a generally bad example of humanity he was, but instead, Steve stood, crossing his arms over his chest and raising a brow.
"Are you done?" Steve asked.
Tony stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket, mostly so they couldn't see him digging at the burn. The pain grounded him a little, but also because he wanted to shrink away as Steve had his Captain America face on and it was a bit intimidating, to say the least, so he settled on a shrug, not really sure what else to say.
"That speech was something," Steve said. "I'll give you credit for making such a great list of all the reasons why we shouldn't care about you, but none of it scares me away." He stepped closer to Tony until they were standing toe to toe. "You know why?"
Tony looked into his eyes, shaking his head. He felt off-center and out of his element. Typically, if he pushed people hard enough, he could scare them away. Tony had even pushed Pepper away. He'd kept her at arm's length despite everything they'd been through, but this, whatever this was, scared him. They were seeing him for the fucked-up mess he was and weren't running the other way.
"Because when I look at you, I see someone hiding behind a mask because they're afraid of being hurt. I see a man who deserves to be loved." Steve reached out and gently brushed his knuckles along Tony's jawline. "We're not going to force you into something you don't want. We can all just be friends, but we still won't leave you—not again. You're worth the effort, Tony."
He swallowed dryly, feeling overwhelmed. How the hell had his day gotten to this point? All his perfectly crafted defenses were toppling. He tore at the burn on his thumb and pressed his nail into the wound. Pain was good. Pain he knew. It helped him feel grounded. He could feel blood trickling down his finger, warm and sticky.
Bucky stepped closer, a look of disappointment on his face, but before Tony could ask why, the man was tugging his hand from the hoodie. The ex-assassin turned it carefully in the light before letting it drop to Tony's side. "We're going to talk about this later."
Tony went to hide it in his pocket again, but Bucky stopped him. "Leave it where I can see it."
He did as he was told, not wanting to see any more disappointment in Bucky's eyes.
"I'm sorry," Tony said. "Not just for this." He raised his injured hand. "But because I don't know how to accept people caring. Howard made sure I knew my worth growing up. You have no idea how much baggage I have."
"Tony," Steve warned. "What did I tell you? You can't scare us away, so stop trying."
"I wish you could see what we see," Bucky said. "You're so hard on yourself—so negative. We want to help fix that."
Tony couldn't help but stifle a chuckle.
"What?" Steve said.
"It's just my therapist once said something similar about being negative, so I fired her."
Neither of them looked impressed.
"So, uh, this potential thing between us." Tony chewed his lip nervously. "I guess I'm interested and wouldn't mind seeing where it goes, but I need to take things slow—like molasses in Antarctica slow. Fuck, maybe slower than that. It's a PTSD thing—a throwback to some things I'd rather forget." He was rambling a little and knew it.
"We can do that," Steve said reassuringly. "Whatever you need. We aren't going to rush you, and if you aren't ready and just want to be friends, that's fine, too. You're in charge here."
Tony could see the sincerity in Steve's eyes, and it put him at ease. He looked to Bucky and was greeted with the same warmth. He wasn't sure how he deserved to have one, let alone two, people willing to deal with the fucked-up mess that was his life, but he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"I definitely want to be more than friends," Tony admitted, looking at the floor. "But you should know some stuff about my past. I just don't know how to say it." He walked over and sat back on the bed, putting his head in his hands.
"You don't need to tell us anything you're not comfortable with," Bucky came to sit beside him. "We don't want you stirring up something you've put to bed. Like they say, sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie."
"No, you need to hear this as much as I need to say it. It might change your mind about wanting me."
Bucky took his hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the back of it. "I'm willing to bet it won't change a thing."
Steve stepped over and took a seat on the other side of him, his hand going to his back. "We're right here with you. Whatever it is you've got to say, we aren't going anywhere."
Tony took a few steadying breaths. He didn't even know if he had the energy to do this, but it was now or never. If he just bit the bullet and put it out there, maybe it wouldn't hold so much power over him. If only he could think of the words to start. "I honestly don't know where to begin."
Steve's hand glided up and down his back. "Just start wherever you need to. We'll catch on."
He nodded, his heart beginning to beat a little faster and his mouth going dry. "Well, as you probably know, I was treated to the scenic tour of Afghanistan a while back, spending some time kidnapped in a cave." He wrung his hands, trying not to dig at the burn. "They wanted weapons, and they wanted me to build them." He licked at his lips. "Obviously, I refused, and that's when the party started."
He could feel himself starting to shake as the memories came back as sharp and clear as the day they happened. He focused on the warm touch of the two men beside him, letting it ground him.
"You don't need to do this." Steve's hand stilled. "You're shaking. Whatever it is, I promise it won't change things. This isn't good for you."
Tony swallowed the lump in his throat, looking over at Steve. "Please, I need to get this out. If I wait, I might never get the courage again."
"Okay," Steve said, hand beginning to move again. "But take your time. We're not going anywhere."
Tony nodded, and Bucky gave his hand a gentle squeeze. It gave him the strength to continue.
"Like I said, I refused to cooperate, so they got started trying to make me. Waterboarding was first, not as fun as the name sounds, and when that didn't work, things got a bit kinky." He huffed a laugh, eyes beginning to tear. "They started whipping me until I blacked out." He drew a shaky breath.
"It's okay," Steve whispered. "We're right here."
He nodded, shaking loose a tear that rolled down his cheek. He tried to find the words for what was to come. "You know how they say hindsight is 20/20? They really do mean it. Looking back, I should have just given in at the waterboarding."
His body wouldn't stop shaking now, no matter how hard he tried to control it. His mind was torn in two. One half screaming for him to shut up, to not open this box, and the other just wanting to finally let it out. He'd been holding this secret for far too long.
He took a few steadying breaths. "So, where was I? Oh, yeah," he breathed. "I never thought about what would happen if I kept refusing. I was different back then—more reckless, I guess. I thought I was unbreakable, but they had something else up their sleeve, something I hadn't even considered."
His mouth was going dry, and the tears were flowing freely. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, but it did no good as the tears continued to fall. "One day, they came and started dragging me somewhere new. I was running my mouth, daring them to do their worst. I didn't know. I didn't think, but when I saw, I knew. They were going to break me."
He sucked in a breath, blinking away the tears. "There was a dirty mattress on the floor with some cliché looking bad guys standing around the room. They pushed me onto it, stripping off my clothes." He felt sick remembering it; every detail was still etched perfectly in his mind. "They each took turns. One of them turned out to be a biter. I still have the scar on my shoulder from him."
Bucky's grip had tightened on his hand, and Steve had stopped moving his. His head was still down, but he flicked his gaze over to Bucky whose other hand was fisted in his lap. Tony knew it wasn't an easy story to hear. He just hoped it hadn't changed things between them.
He rubbed at his eyes, trying to will the tears to stop. "I get it if you guys want to back out after that."
No one spoke. Time seemed to stand still, only the sounds of breathing filling the room, something which Tony took as rejection. He knew it'd been too good to be true. He thought that maybe, just once, the universe had given him a pass, let him have something good, but he was wrong. They didn't want him.
He needed to get away—to be anywhere but there. He went to stand, but when he tried, Steve's hand moved to his shoulder, gently stopping him. He looked over at him. There were tears in the man's eyes.
"What they did ... It changes nothing," Steve said. "You survived something that most people couldn't. Jesus, Tony, don't ever think that what those monsters did would change how we see you."
He choked back a sob as the tears spilled down his cheeks. Steve ran his thumb along his cheekbone, trying to wipe them away, but they were coming too fast. His body was shaking.
Bucky gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Is it alright if I hold you?"
Tony looked to him and nodded, leaning into the larger man's side. Bucky was quick to wrap his arms around him, pulling him close. He pressed his face into the crook of the soldier's neck and let himself go, his shoulders shaking with each sob. He fell apart, and they stayed right there with him, murmuring reassurances and holding him close. Bucky rocked him gently as he hummed something soothing against him. He'd never let himself be vulnerable before. He didn't usually trust like this. He should have been scared, but he wasn't. It felt right.
Slowly, he calmed, feeling physically wrecked from the force of his breakdown and pulled away from Bucky's chest. The man's shirt was soaked from his tears and snot. It was gross. God, he hated crying.
"Sorry about your shirt."
Bucky gave him a gentle smile. "It'll wash. I'm more worried about you."
"I'm ... I don't know what I am." His voice was shaky.
Steve took Tony's hand. "Is there anything we can do to help?"
"Not unless you can stop the nightmares." Tony looked down at his hands. "It's probably gonna be a bad night."
"Yeah," Bucky said, carding his fingers through Tony's hair. "You know, if it would help, we could stay the night—just as friends—wake you up if things get bad. We could sleep on the floor, even."
Tony thought over his suggestion. He didn't want to be alone, but the changes between them were a lot to take in. It seemed like they were moving fast, and it scared him. He didn't know if he was ready for more. Sharing a room or a bed—even as friends—was a big leap. He just wasn't sure it was one he was ready to take.
Maybe sensing his uncertainty, Steve spoke, "It's no big deal. You don't need to stress over it. I can understand your hesitation. Can you have Friday wake you if it gets too bad instead?"
"Yeah, she can, but if it's alright, I wouldn't mind trying it with you guys here tonight—just as friends. I'm not ready for more yet, and that doesn't mean I'm not interested in more. It just means that I wanna go slow."
"That's no problem," Bucky said. "We ain't ever gonna push you, and if we ever make you feel like we have, I expect you put on your suit and kick the shit out of us."
Tony smiled. "I guess I should take my meds first and probably shower. I feel gross."
Steve ran his hand up and down his back. "How about I get you something to eat and grab your pills while you go shower?"
"That sounds like a plan," Tony said. "I'm not very hungry, though. Maybe just some toast."
Steve shook his head. "You need more than that. How about one of my protein drinks? I'd feel better knowing you got some calories into you."
He sighed. "Fine."
"If you're gonna drink one of those things, I suggest strawberry. The others taste like crap," Bucky supplied. "I don't know how Stevie drinks the chocolate ones."
"I'll try Strawberry."
Tony began getting together something to wear. He grabbed a pair of soft, flannel pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt to hide the scar on his arm. They both knew what he'd done but seeing it was a different story. That was something for another day. He walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He turned on the hot water until it nearly burned him and let the room fill with steam while he stripped. Once he was naked, he got a look at himself in the mirror—the ugly scars that marred his chest bright upon his pale skin.
He looked away when he turned toward the shower, not able to stomach the scars left from the whippings or the bite mark on his shoulder. Only Pepper had seen those scars, but she never pushed him to talk about them.
He made quick work of his shower. He just wanted in and out. After a quick rinse to get rid of the soap, he shut the water off and stepped out onto the mat, grabbing one of the oversized towels and drying off. He slipped on his boxers and the pajama pants, pausing to feel around the injection site. It was feeling a little better. He straightened his pants and then slipped on the shirt, making sure that the sleeves were down, hiding the scar on his arm.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, Steve was back—the protein shake was on the nightstand and the pill sorter on the bed. They'd both taken their shoes off and looked to be making themselves comfortable. Something white caught on the nightstand caught his eye. It took him a moment to realize it was a first aid kit. He wondered what it was for.
Walking over to the bed, he picked up the sorter and dumped out the pills he needed into his hand. Steve handed him the shake, and Tony took it, popping the pills into his mouth and downing the chalky concoction as quickly as he could. His face twisted in a grimace at the after taste. He tossed the sorter on the dresser and turned back to face them.
"You guys drink those things on purpose?" Tony's face was still scrunched in disgust. "And if you thought this was a good flavor." He looked to Bucky. "I'm never trying the others."
Steve chuckled. "You get used to them," he said. "Super soldier metabolism. They are good for when you need some extra calories and protein but don't have the time." He grabbed the empty bottle from his hand, setting it back on the nightstand.
He heard Bucky clear his throat. He looked over to see him patting the bed beside him. "Come here. Let me see that hand."
Now he got why there was a first aid kit. It seemed a bit much for such a small wound. He'd had worse and left them to heal on their own, but he could see this was something Bucky needed to do. It was more than just dressing a wound—it was a way he could fix something, even if it was just putting on a bandage. It was something tangible.
He sat down beside Bucky, letting the man take his hand in his own. He turned it so he could see his thumb and the mess of the wound he had on it. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't torn it open and dug into the flesh. The blister was long since gone, only a deep red wound remained. With gentle hands, Bucky laid Tony's hand in his lap and proceeded to dig through the medical kit—collecting the supplies he needed. For having large hands, his fingers were incredibly nimble. He had it cleaned and wrapped in a blink of an eye. When he was done, he lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the bandage.
"Next time you feel like hurting yourself, don't do this," Bucky said, tone serious. "Find me or Steve. We can always find time to talk or even spar. I don't want you doing this to yourself."
He nodded and watched as they cleaned up and put the first aid kit away. The meds were starting to make him feel sleepy. He yawned and stretched. It was late, and Dr. Cho was coming the next day. He wished he could cancel, but he knew it was probably for the best to see her.
"I think it's time we get you to bed," Steve said. "And don't worry, we're staying fully clothed. We're just here for support."
Tony nodded, forcing himself to wobbly feet and pulling back the blankets. He slid under the covers, curling onto his side. He grabbed a pillow and tried to get it comfortable under his head—without tugging at the lingering knot in his neck.
"You can sleep in the bed. It's … I think it'd be alright."
A moment past, then the bed dipped behind him. "Hey, doll," Bucky whispered. "Is it okay if I put my arms around you?"
He was never much for pet names—especially not someone calling him doll—but for some reason, he didn't mind it coming from Bucky. Instead of verbally answering, he reached back and grabbed his arm, pulling him closer.
The larger man wrapped his arms around him, one arm snaked under his head, like a solid pillow of muscle, and his metal arm resting on his waist. It felt warm and good, but he was missing something. He wanted Steve, too. No one could argue that Tony wasn't needy when he was stressed, tired, and a little bit drugged.
He lifted his head and tried to look over Bucky's broad shoulders.
"What's wrong?" Bucky whispered. "This okay?"
Tony blinked tiredly. "Where's Steve?"
He heard footsteps and then saw Steve coming around into view. "I'm right here. I just didn't want to crowd you."
Tony yawned. "You're not." He wriggled back against Bucky, liking how he fit neatly against him. "Plenty of room." He patted the space beside him. "Honestly, I'm still not sure this is real, so I figure I might as well just indulge myself while I can."
"It's not a dream," Steve said, climbing into bed beside him, laying on his side to face him. He brushed a few stray hairs from Tony's forehead. "Just close your eyes. We aren't going anywhere."
Real or not, Tony didn't care. He felt safe and warm—something he hadn't felt in a long time. Eventually, his eyelids became too heavy to keep open, and he drifted off to sleep. Maybe he didn't have to be alone after all.