"I'm not where I need to be, but thank God I'm not where I used to be."
Everything falls into a normal rhythm and Tony is shocked. He's not late for his therapy appointments anymore. Mostly, because they aren't a really a source of anxiety these days. His therapist's…well amazing is the word he would use. Meeting with her once a week was just enough to keep him from exploding. Sometimes he'd drop by the café afterward and most of the time Steve was there too. They'd compare notes over coffee and sometimes when Tony's sessions ran long, he'd show up to find that Steve had ordered for him. Sugar, no cream.
"There's still a weight, you know," Tony said, bringing the off-white cup to his lips. "Guilt or whatever."
"Does it ever really leave?" was Steve's reply.
Tony shrugged. "I'm sure people out there can let shit go." He set the cup down, suddenly unable to look at the man sitting across from him. It was scary? Terrifying. Opening up to a professional was one thing, because they're getting paid to listen to his bullshit. But, Steve? He's just a guy dealing with his own problems (and wow, Tony doubted he knew the half of it). He wasn't obligated by money, or whatever, to sit across from Tony and nod politely and offer up his own words of encouragement or share his own stories.
"And the rest of us just learn how to deal with it?"
"Or let it eat us up," Tony said lightly as though he were making an off-handed comment about the weather.
"That's what you've been doing," Steve inferred.
"Mostly." Tony took another sip of coffee.
"Well, cut it out." Steve was grinning slightly over the top of his cup. There was something about the way his eyes glittered in the mid-afternoon sun that made Tony smile too.
Everything was going smoothly. Until it wasn't. Thursday afternoon found Tony in his lab participating in an elongated phone conversation with Pepper about a snag in the negotiations she was working on. "Pep you're the brightest business woman I know." Tony was massaging his aching forehead now. "If anyone's going to seal this deal it's going to be you."
"Thanks for the kind words, Tony." Her voice was strained and Tony felt a little guilty about working her this hard. "But, I'm about to hop on a plane and come home at this point. They aren't going for our bargains and we can't afford to lower the prices anymore."
"Sir." Jarvis's voice interrupted their conversation.
"I told you Jarvis," Tony sighed, "Don't bother me unless it's an emergency."
"It is an emergency," Jarvis replied.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Are we talking a Clint plus Taco Bell emergency or are we talking city getting destroyed by robots or aliens emergency."
"The latter, sir."
"Got it." Tony was already stripping off his safety goggles and gloves. "Sorry, Pep." And he genuinely was. "Gotta run."
"Go save the world." Her voice was flat. "I'll see what I can do about the situation here."
"You're the best."
It was supposed to be another mission. Simple. Straight-forward. All flight patterns and attack formations. But it wasn't. There were casualties. Five. Tony memorized their names.
The evening found Tony in his lab once more. He was lying on the cool cement floor, eyes fixed on the tiled ceiling. He tried to focus, count the tiles, but his vision was blurring pretty badly. He automatically brought the bottle in his right hand to his lips and drank generously. When he set the bottle back down it clinked against the floor lightly. How much had he had? Half? Couldn't be half. A quick side-eye at the bottle confirmed it. Half.
I'll probably just puke it up later. Get the poison out.
But he couldn't get everything out. There was still the guilt weighing on his chest and making it impossible to breathe. The guilt of five names added to his list of deaths. There was also the guilt of slipping. He had been doing so well. The bottles in his wet bar called to him through solid walls, but he ignored them. Because Tony Stark was going to get better. Tony Stark was going to kick the habit and get his life back on track.
He had all the ingredients of success. Motivation. A good support system. But, here he was. A fucking failure.
He vaguely heard the door to his lab slide open. "Tony?" A soft voice called into the semi darkness. He recognized it instantly as Steve's. "Are you in here?"
Great. Perfect. Fucking amazing. The very last person he wanted to see him like this was snooping around his lab. He wanted to open his mouth, scream Get out. No words came. Instead he lay very still and hoped Steve would give up and leave. The fluorescent ceiling lights clicked on and Tony blinked heavily and groaned.
The lights flicked off again and for a moment he hoped Steve had decided to leave him alone. But, footsteps crushed his hope and he squinted up to see Steve settle himself down to sit beside him. "I fell off the fuckin' wagon, okay!" Tony slurred, rolling his eyes at Steve's expression of concern. "I fell off an' it ran me the fuck over and I feel like shit."
"You're blaming yourself," Steve said softly.
"Of course I'm blaming myself!" Tony's eyes were stinging. "I'm Iron Man! I'm supposed to save people! I was supposed to save them."
Steve shook his head.
"If you're gonna say it's not my fault," Tony began before Steve could talk. "Get the fuck out. That's not what I need to hear right now." Speaking was becoming more and more difficult. As was holding back tears.
"I'm not going to say anything," Steve replied, his voice quiet in contrast with Tony's. "I'm going to sit here and make sure you don't choke on your puke."
Tony snorted. "Who said chivalry is dead?"
"Is that okay?" Steve asked.
Tony shook his head. "Yeah. Whatever."
True to his word, Steve didn't say anything. He didn't lecture Tony. He didn't try to comfort him. He just sat quietly, and Tony was grateful. At some point he felt Steve lift his head up a bit off the floor and he whined. When Steve set his head back down, he realized there was something softer than concrete beneath it. Tony wanted to thank him, but he was suddenly swallowed by sleep.
The first thing Tony noticed as he slowly came back into consciousness was the disgusting, bitter taste in his mouth. The next thing he noticed was the dull ache in every part of his body. Where the fuck was he? This wasn't his bed.
His eyes slowly opened, the tiled ceiling coming into view. He vaguely remembered counting them. He lost track at forty eight tiles. Sitting up was a chore. His entire back was screaming out in disgust as he pulled himself upright. After rubbing away the sleep from his eyes he surveyed the room. Lab. He had passed out in this room many times.
Beside him was a half filled bottle of his good shit. Pity he had squandered it. That stuff was aged right. To his other side, he noticed with a jolt, was the quiet form of Steve seated on the floor and slumped against one of the lab benches. Tony blinked a couple of times, trying to remember why he had passed out on the floor and why Steve had also passed out on his floor.
He wished he hadn't. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the names. "You okay?" He opened his eyes slowly to see Steve watching him with a nervous expression.
"Fine." It was a lie. Pain was blooming from behind both of his eyeballs and he knew he was due for some Advil. "You didn't have to-"
"I wanted to," Steve cut in. "Be honest. You okay?"
"I passed out on the floor." Tony pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them. "What do you think?"
"Death's not an easy thing," Steve replied, rolling his head on his shoulders. "You coped the only way you know how."
"Are you vying for my therapist's position?" Tony snapped. He was feeling extra irritable this morning- afternoon?
"No." Steve's voice was stern, but his expression betrayed him. He was at a loss for words. Which was a weird look for him. Steve always had something to say.
"Please leave." Tony summoned the last bit of patience he was holding on to in order to not yell at his friend.
"Tony."
He snapped. "LEAVE."
"Seriously?" Clint raised a brow at Steve. "Are you seriously going to kick yourself over Tony kicking himself."
Clint, Steve, and Natasha were all in the kitchen. Clint was tossing fruits into the blender while briefly consulting a recipe on his smart phone. Natasha was sitting on the opposite side of the counter from Steve, one leg tucked under her, elbow on the counter, and chin resting on her hand. It was the most nonchalant posture Steve had ever seen her maintain.
"I'm just worried about him," Steve replied.
"Fish swim. Birds fly. Tony drinks," Clint spoke vaguely as he carefully measured out a bit of honey. "It's all part of nature."
"You two have a connection," Natasha spoke to Steve. "I think that if anyone can make Tony grow up, it's you."
"It's not a matter of growing up." Steve was thinking aloud at this point. "I think it's more than that."
Natasha shrugged. "You know him better than we do, I guess."
"I know his favorite flavor of ice cream," Clint countered. "Tony and I are basically best friends."
"You read his grocery list," Natasha said, gesturing to a short piece of paper stuck to the fridge. "Anyone with eyes knows Tony's favorite flavor of ice cream."
"Stop giving up our espionage secrets, Nat!" Clint looked playfully taken aback.
Natasha rolled her eyes, but the ghost of a smile was clearly visible on her lips.
"So, anyway," Clint addressed Steve. "I would wait until he comes to you. When he's ready to talk, he'll talk. He'll probably apologize or something too. Not like how normal people do. Probably really vague, maybe passive aggressive."
But Steve did not see Tony for the rest of the week. Tony wasn't even in his lab anymore. Steve was sure to poke his head in a couple of times. At one point, Steve was in his room, curled up under the too-soft sheets and looking up at the ceiling. A flashing green light pulsed through the darkness. It meant Jarvis was active. Or there was wireless internet connection available in his room. He couldn't remember, but both were probably true.
"H-Hey Jarvis?" Steve felt silly about what he was going to ask and he gripped his sheets tightly as he waited for a response.
"Yes, Captain Rogers?"
"Is Tony-" He paused for a moment, wondering what he was really asking. "Alive?" He settled.
"His current vital signs indicate he is alive."
"Has he been eating and everything?" Steve asked, still feeling silly.
"His last meal consisted of left over take out from the refrigerator."
"Oh." Steve hadn't seen Tony at all in the past few days. "How did he-"
"Mister Stark has robots for every task imaginable." Right. "Is that all, Captain Rogers?"
"Just one more thing."
"Yes?" Steve marveled for a moment at how human Jarvis's voice sounded. His inflection made it sound as though he was genuinely curious.
"Could you not tell Tony I asked. He needs his space, but I'm just- I dunno." Steve was fumbling for words.
"Do not worry. Our chat will be kept confidential. Good night, Captain Rogers."
"Night, Jarvis."
"How do you apologize?" Tony was slumped in the comfortable arm chair opposite his therapist.
"It helps to start by saying you're sorry," she replied lightly.
Tony couldn't help but chuckle a little. "I think I can get that part down okay. But, how do I make it sincere? How do I let someone know I really feel like shit for what I've done."
"What did you do?" she asked.
"Yelled at a friend when they were just trying to help," Tony muttered.
"Why did you yell at them."
"Well, remember what we talked about before. Me falling off the wagon, so to speak." Tony shook his head, still sick with himself about the whole thing. "Well, a friend of mine-" It felt weird, but nice to consider Steve a friend at this point. "-He tried to help me out. He wanted to make sure I was okay. And he did. But the next morning I felt like shit and I didn't want to see anyone and I yelled at him. Told him to leave. I've been too…ashamed I think, to apologize."
"He witnessed you at a really low and vulnerable moment." Her voice was gentle, but not condescending, which Tony appreciated. "And you just wanted to set up your boundaries. I would explain that part to him. Boundaries are important and they should be respected."
Steve had a plastic laundry basket tucked under his arm, clothes threatening to spill from it as he hurried down the hall to the elevator. Jarvis insisted laundry was part of the amenities provided at the mansion, but Steve felt better about doing it himself. It was domestic. It was normal.
He hadn't expected to bump into Tony coming out of the elevator and he graciously stepped aside to let him pass. However, Tony waved him inside and Steve obeyed. His facial expression must have given him away as being more than a little confused because as the doors slid shut, Tony immediately stumbled into an apology.
He mentioned he was sorry, that he was embarrassed, that it was hard for him even now to talk about his feelings because that just wasn't him. Steve listened, tried to hang on every word, but he couldn't help but feel relieved. Tony didn't hate him. Steve hadn't messed up. "I'm sorry that I suck at expressing discomfort," Tony concluded. "But I really needed to be alone and I'm sorry I did a shit job at communicating that."
"Sorry I pressed you," Steve replied. "I should have realized that if you were ready to talk about it you would have talked about it. I think I just- well you know we've talked a lot about stuff in the past. I assumed it would be like that, but now I know it wasn't. Well you know my usual haunts around here. So next time you just gotta find me and we'll talk about it."
It really wasn't as painful as Tony had thought it would be. He hadn't expected Steve to back down like that, the guy was stubborn as a rock. (Or so Tony thought) "So, what did I miss. I've been kind of out of it for the past couple of days."
"Bruce almost hulked out on Friday because someone finished off his cereal. My money's on Thor." Steve spoke as though he were recounting mundane, every day events. Which, he basically was. "Natasha's retired one of the sparring dummies. Completely mangled it."
"Terrifying," Tony muttered, shaking his head. "That woman is so terrifying."
"She's alright," Steve said offhandedly. "Let's see- oh! Thor had to leave. Some Asgard business."
"Ah. You know Thor is just so specific and detail oriented, why isn't he the one drafting up our mission briefs?" Tony said and the two of them shared a laugh.