A/N: An update 3 years in the making! Thanks for everyone who has left nice comments and favorited/followed this fic. Just a head's up, there's some mental illness-y stuff in this chapter. I just want everyone to know it was not written for shock value. It comes from a well-meaning place.
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Tony awoke with a start, his body remembering phantom kisses and touches. He was in the middle of a very good dream which was now fading fast. As seconds passed the only thing he could remember were a pair of eyes the color of the ocean on a sunny day. His head was pounding and for a moment he wondered what had awoken him.
"Sir?" Jarvis's electronic voice repeated. Someone had turned his AI's volume all the way up. More efficient than any alarm clock on the market. "Pepper Potts is phoning." Okay so that explains the volume. Tony had changed Jarvis's settings so that he would never miss a call from Pepper.
"Got it." Tony's mouth was dry and he had to close his eyes against the light filtering in through the floaty curtains drawn over the large window at the other side of the room. "Put her on speaker."
"Tony?" Pepper's voice had it's signature tone of concern and seemed to reverberate against the wood paneled walls.
"Hey, Pep!" Tony replied, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. "How's Europe? Are we going to be expanding our little operation?"
"I'm working on it." For a moment her tone was stern and businesslike. Her boardroom voice, as Tony had nicknamed it. Then her voice relaxed, "How are you?"
"Everything's great!" Tony replied. "Team's good. I'm good. We're all good."
Pepper was quiet for a moment. "Have you been drinking?"
"Pep it's-" Tony rolled over to squint at the 3D alarm clock on his bedside table. "Two in the afternoon…"
"You know what I mean, Tony." Pepper sighed. "I thought you said you were going to get help."
"I have been getting help," Tony retorted.
"Really? Like a therapist? What's their name?"
"…Morgan," Tony replied uncertainly.
"Doctor Morgan?" Pepper clarified.
"No he's more of a Captain."
"That's not funny," Pepper said flatly. "The last time we spoke, you said you were going to find someone."
Tony sighed. He was going to. He really was. But phone calls? Especially for shit like this? Nah. Not his style. "You know I got really busy-"
"I've found someone for you. A SHIELD suggestion. If you're interested."
Tony paused for a moment. His stubbornness flared up and he opened his mouth to protest, but instead he replied, "Sure."
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He was late. About twenty minutes at this point. The black leather seat squeaked as he rearranged himself to slump in his seat. It had taken a lot to get to this point. First, Pepper was the one to schedule today's appointment. Then, he had spent the days in between their phone call and today vaguely worrying and mentally preparing himself. Now, he was sitting in the back of his town car, too anxious to drive, and wringing his hands in his lap.
He was going to have to be honest with this guy. Or lady? Who knows. What was he even going to talk about for an hour? He had a lot of issues, sure. But he wasn't going to lay everything out on the table for this person to pick apart. Lucky for him, SHIELD had sent over his file before hand. Apparently the doc was affiliated somehow. Their office wasn't remotely near SHIELD headquarters, though. Tony had made sure to look up the location before hand.
As the car pulled up to the curb in front of the building, he considered ordering his driver to keep driving. But, instead he unfastened his seat belt and slid over to the door. He climbed out into the afternoon sunlight and slammed the door behind him.
x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~
"Sorry to keep you waiting," The woman sitting in the leather arm chair in front of him was probably a little over fifty and she wore her dark hair back in a bun. "Something I'm assuming you're not used to."
"Patience is something I've been trying to pick up over the years," Tony replied. He leaned back into soft velvet couch and glanced around the room. It was kept moderately lit and the walls sported some mediocre art depicting country-side the corner a little fountain sputtered away. Probably some zen bullshit. "So you've read over my file."
"Yes I have," the therapist replied, adjusting her reading glasses.
"Let me guess, you're going to ask me how I feel about everything that's happened." Tony rolled his eyes.
He wasn't being deliberately hostile. He was just- uncomfortable. To his surprise, the woman laughed lightly and shook her head. "No, no. I was just going to say it looks like you've seen some shit." Tony was startled by her sudden transition from uptight and business oriented to casual and amicable. She seemed to pick up on that quickly. "What? Did you think you were going to lay out on that couch and spill your darkest secrets while I quietly sit here and scribble down a diagnosis?"
"Well, actually," Tony began, "Yeah."
She shook her head. "They've done a lot of studies in the past couple of decades. That method, surprisingly, didn't work out."
"So…what do you want to know?" Tony asked.
"Let's start with recent history," she replied, "Tell me about the last couple of days."
"I've been nervous," Tony said slowly.
"What were you nervous about?"
Tony inhaled deeply and gestured around the room before letting his breath out quickly. "This. I guess. Talking to someone about the shit I carry around."
"Do you want to talk about the shit you carry around?"
Tony shrugged. "Yes and no. On the one hand everyone I know is telling me it would be good for me."
"And, on the other hand?"
"It's-" What? What had been eating at him for the last few days? "Weak." He decided.
"Why do you think it's weak?"
"I fought my way out of a cave in Afghanistan. Since then, I've dealt with a lot of-" he gestured at the manilla folder on the table next to her. His file, he assumed. "That crap. I've been fine. Why now? Why do I need help now?"
"Your file says you've built up a team," she replied. "Doesn't sound like you're dealing with the bad guys alone anymore."
Tony paused. "Yeah. You're going to make a point here, I can feel it."
She laughed, "You've got people watching your back and sometimes you're not able to completely handle a situation and they step in and help. Why should the stuff you keep inside be any different. Well, it's a little different because you get to choose who supports you." She tapped her pen to her chest. "I'm one. You got me to help you sift through the baggage. So that's a start, right?"
"That's a start."
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He was surprised at all the talking he fit into the hour. She was good, no doubt about it. He walked down the sidewalk, his dress shoes clacking against the pavement and spied a quaint cafe. Not wanting to return to the mansion quite yet, he ducked inside. As he milled about the entrance, glancing around for the hostess to seat him, he spied a familiar blond man seated at one of the metal tables outside on the veranda.
Tony quickly slipped out of the side door and claimed the empty seat across from him. Steve looked up in surprise and smiled. "Hey, what are you doing here?"
"I was in the area," Tony lied easily. "Come here often?"
The line soared over Steve's head. "I pass by here sometimes and I thought I'd try it out." Tony noted a moleskin book on the table.
"Journaling or sketching?" he asked.
"Sketching."
Before Tony could inquire further a waitress dressed in black approached their table, notepad and pen at the ready, and smiled. "What can I getcha two?"
"Just a coffee for me," Steve answered. "Cream and sugar."
"And for you?" She addressed Tony as she quickly scribbled out Steve's order on the pad of paper.
"Do you have doughnuts?" Tony asked.
"No, but we do have bagels. We also have croissants-"
"A croissant sounds good. I'll take a coffee too, please. Just sugar."
The waitress scribbled down his order and nodded to the pair of them before hustling off.
"Don't you just hate it when that happens," Tony shook his head. "I can't remember what we were talking about."
"You seemed pretty stressed when I left this morning," Steve commented.
"Yeah, some business crap I had to deal with."
"We're teammates," Steve replied. "Friends, even. If something's bothering you, I want you to know that you can talk about it."
An invitation to talk about his feelings without being overbearing and demanding. A nice change, he thought bitterly. Then, quickly he reminded himself that Pepper and Bruce and everyone else concerned for his sanity was just trying to help and they shouldn't be made into villains for it. He considered what he and his therapist had discussed. A support system. But, Steve had better shit to do than carry Tony's worn beat up baggage. Give him a chance. Don't force it on him. Let him decide for himself. "I just had my first therapy appointment."
The statement was delivered like the punchline to a joke. It was animated and matter of fact, but Steve didn't flinch. "Did it help?"
"I'm stuck between feeling good about it and feeling weak as hell, so-" Tony punctuated the statement with a shrug.
"If it makes you feel better, I just got out of a group therapy session at the VA." It felt like someone had vacuumed the air out of Tony's lungs. Somehow he felt a bit less weak. Hell if Cap needed help, anybody did.
"Did it help?"
Steve shrugged. "It didn't hurt."
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A/N: Hey all, just a little fun back-story explanation. I'm amazed at the Tony I created in this fic because his struggle so closely mirrored my own. I never could find the inspiration to continue the fic, but I've recently been seeking help for my own mental illness and I realized after re-reading what I had written that the same needed to be done for him. Also, Tony's search for his sexual identity is something I can relate to and I hope that I can portray it tastefully.