A/N: Sorry guys for the late update, I tried my best to keep it sort of regular, but I got ill and my school schedule is becoming a bit crowded for the next week. So sorry about it! And It's a bit difficult to come up with new ideas out of nearly nowhere when there are such things all over the internet and my computer like Supernatural and new episodes of Doctor Who ^^;

Thanks for the reviews, guys! *hugs*

I'm still open for ideas ;) And I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

Sketches

~5~

~*A man haunted and left alone*~

Steve was used to the sight of Tony being dead on his feet. He got to know the guy with those dark circles under his eyes, a frown and a dark shadow lingering in the depths of his bloodshot eyes which were the most common signs of sleeping problems.

Then even living with them, he occasionally caught sight of Tony against the wall of the narrow short corridor. One trembling arm holding his weight leaning on a cupboard and just staring into the blue. Not seeing a thing, eyes hazy and foggy, eyelids opening up only demanded by pure will and stubbornness. But as soon as Steve called out his name, or the noise of a key in the lock could be heard he jerked out of this state and switched back to his way-out, guarded mode.

Tony never allowed anyone to see him vulnerable.

One morning Steve found Tony surprisingly early in the kitchen. It's true, that Tony had his own odd hours, but they usually were of very late – both at night and in the morning. To put it more plainly: Tony was as rare of a sight before noon as a blue dahlia in the middle of winter. (And yes, Steve was giving his observations as long years of experience after about two weeks in living with the other.)

But Tony was still there and Steve wasn't dreaming. Tony was nursing a mug in his hands, some poisonously dark brew in it. Steve suspected it to be coffee, but it was probably too cold already to be worth drinking. It didn't look beckoning at all.

"Good morning, Tony" Steve greeted him, carefully not too loud so that he wouldn't disturb his mother but still fitting as much enthusiasm into it as possible.

From the dark look Tony sent him as his own 'greeting' told him bright as this particularly beautiful day what Tony's opinion was about Steve being so lively at that awful hour.

"M'nin" was all Tony muttered turning his unwinking glance back at his mug.

"You had breakfast?" Steve asked trying to start a conversation rummaging through the cupboard looking for a mug of his own.

He only got a growl as a response.

That was something that piqued his interest. Or worries. Whatever. He had the right to be worried about his ex-schoolmate-roommate-flatmate-friend?- whoever Tony was. First, because Tony always took every opportunity to try and ruin Steve's good moods or reason with him about how bad the time was for a run or anything healthy. He didn't get why it was so important for Steve to be able to go for a morning run. Especially that now he was able to do it and didn't have to stop after every fifth step or so because he couldn't force a gulp of air down his windpipes due to his asthma.

And second, because Tony looked like someone out of a zombie-apocalypse horror movie Bucky made him watch once.

"Wow, Tony, you look terrible"

"Now I just don't need a mirror anymore" Tony noted dryly, his voice hoarse from not using it for a long time. Then with a wide motion Tony knocked back his all too black and all too cold coffee. As someone takes a terrible-tasting medicine. Or poison. Pick your choice.

Tony made a face, so he was rather into the medicin-metaphor, because he already looked better. Or at least more human. His eyes were clearer at least and focusing in on Steve.

"And just for the record, you look as dashing as always" And just for good measure tipped his head back and tried to lick out all the last drops of – okay, let's call it coffee out of the mug. And Steve wasn't staring at the taut skin of his throat or the rise and fall of his Adam's apple.

"Are you having difficulties with sleeping?" Steve averted the comment, deliberately not blushing this time.

"Am I getting out of shape? How does such comment not make you blush?"

"Because, you know if you do- "

"I have a few ideas that could help, don't worry, just all of them would require some pocket money" Tony cracked a suggestive and very dirty toothy smirk.

"- Just drink some warm milk before you go to bed, and it'll help you sleep-" Steve wasn't letting Tony push him down that road.

Tony's eyes were too big and challenging for not reading and Steve was worried for all the fatigue and shadows he glimpsed in them.

"Steve, I think I passed five to need such methods if I can't sleep" Tony snorted and levelled Steve with a funny look. His stance read 'Hey, mom, do you realize that I'm not a baby anymore? Pretty damn please?'

"I mean to help-"

"You're helping enough"

"-because you obviously haven't slept for a good while"

"And what?" Tony snorted again, this time his smirk sharp and cutting and there was malice glimmering in his darkening eyes. "Are you going to put me to bed and stand guard in front of my door until I snore? Checking the wardrobe if there are monsters to eat me in my nightmares? Steve, I'm about to wonder if you realized that I've been living on my own just perfectly fine, and I'm a big boy enough to handle the shadows without a night torch."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve offered as honest and nice as ever.

His reaction rendered Tony absolutely speechless. Had he had anything in his mouth he would spit it out or would try his best not to choke on it instead of his own tongue and surprise.

"What the fuck about?"

"About why you cannot sleep. Your nightmares…"

Tony cracked a laugh at that, and it was Steve's turn to stare at him in confusion.

"And let's hug and cry some tears and then kiss it all better, shall we?"

This actually got Steve blushing and averting his gaze. He just wanted to be nice darn it, and now Tony was laughing at him. Despite his changed appearance, Steve couldn't brush off the feeling of elementary school when all his classmates were laughing at how small and sickly thin he was.

"Come on, baby, don't pout, you're breaking my non-existent heart" Tony grinned at him with his guarded, measuredly warm smile that always took Steve off his legs no matter how much he tried to stay upset with the brunet. "See, so much better. But hey, aren't you late from your awfully healthy morning exercise? You should be in school in like, what? thirty?"

"I don't have school today" Steve eyed Tony suspiciously over his own mug of tea.

"How come?"

"It's Saturday?"

Tony's eyes rounded comically. His probably first absolutely and out-of-guard emotion of the day.

"I'd swear it was just Wednesday. Thursday tops"

That was saying something about his (non-)sleeping habits, but before Steve could dig deeper again, Tony quickly started talking again.

"So you have more time on your hands, hm? It's a pretty nice morning, I have to give you that. And I heard on the radio it's gonna be a whole nice weather-"

"Our radio broke a month ago" Steve deadpanned.

Tony just waved it off "I have to do something with my free time" Right. Tony. "So as I was saying, it's a whole-day-nice-weather, and maybe you should bring your sketchpad with. To do something artistic, or whatever you're doing. You haven't done anything nice for a while, so I s'pose you could use some time for that. I'll tell your mom."

Steve didn't even question how Tony knew he was drawing. But God knew what Tony was doing during his odd hours... He never showed him anything, and truth be told, he missed doodling, but for some or other reason he hadn't touched his sketchpad ever since Tony moved in.

So he left a note for his mother – because Tony telling his mom where he went didn't work the last time either, and left for his morning run with his art stuff in a back-pack. Gloomy thoughts about Tony's nightmares and problems shoved securely to the back of his mind. Steve wanted to enjoy the bright day as much as he could today.

Tony never wanted to talk about his feelings, what'd been going on inside of him, whether in his heart or mind. And Steve knew better than to think that it wasn't much, because Tony didn't seem to be the type of guy who just liked day-dreaming and not having a single thought running around his brain. He was usually jittery, knee jerking now and then, drumming, tapping away, sketching sharp edges and straight lines that made no sense to Steve, scribbling endless equations where Steve was sketching dogs, trees or Tony's hands. Those showed a man with a lot of things on his brilliant mind.

But now…

Why would he be thinking so much of Tony? Despite the time they lately spent together, he barely knew anything about him. Like why was he living alone? Why wasn't he in school? (How old was he exactly?) Or why wasn't he working? Steve wasn't one into mechanics and stuff, but Tony seemed brilliant, and he thought companies, or just workshops would be competing for him. And if that was the case, why wasn't Tony keen on going on? What made him stuck at this stage of his life?

See? This is what it meant having Tony on your mind all the time, even at 2.30 a.m.

Steve stretched and winced as he heard the bones in his back pop back in place. There was nothing helping his test for tomorrow. He could also go to bed now...

He froze mid stance as he was about to stand up.

The wall wasn't too thick in their apartment, and the night was exceptionally quiet –

Except for the distressed moans and a muffled scream coming from the other side of the wall from him.

Steve shot to his feet and out his room to tear up the door of the closet the next second. He rushed into the small room, barely able to contain a trestle bed and a small desk and foot stool and all the rubbish Tony'd collected.

"Tony! Tony, wake up!" We called out firm and low as he tumbled to the bedside to take a hold of the whimpering mess of the boy.

Tony jerked awake, shooting up to a sitting position, hands reaching out for the support he longed for from the owner of the gentle voice. Steve nearly fell to the edge of the bed, pulling Tony awkwardly close to his chest, but all of a sudden Tony started fighting back. His breathing was quick and laboured, his pulse running a hundred miles, then the next time Steve called out for him he broke down into whimpering sobs.

Steve could never...

"Tony – Tony, it's okay. It's just a dream" How stupid, you can't control what's going to be all right and what's not. "It was just a nightmare."

Tony shook his head against his chest, desperately trying to muffle his sobs, fisting his hands in Steve's shirt so tight the fabric was about to strangle him around the neck.

But Tony couldn't stand a fight in his current state and he shattered and burst into hysteric tears.

"It's all right, Tony. I'm here. You're here with me. All right." Steve tried to soothe him desperately trying to hold his cool and not panic on what he should do.

"It's horrible- "Tony sobbed into his chest. "There was- There was this car... an accident. They died, Steve! they lay there – broken – and bloody – they-"

"Who, Tony?" Steve forced forth his most responsible side, to be strong for Tony and not break down with him.

"They – my parents. They di-ed... In that car. And there's blood everywhere. And their face... Looking at me – so em-pty. they were dead!... And there was- that voice. Whispering. Then howling. To get out. To run... Run! it said. Run... And I ran. And ran, and it was so dark, and there was a door too, but far away and they were chasing me anditgotdarkeranddarkerand... they are going to get me- Steve! Theyaregoingtogetmetheyarego ingtogetme! they are..."

"No! No one is going to get you." Steve stated, and he just realized how thick and hoarse his own voice was. "I won't let them, Tony. You are safe here."

.

In the end Steve scooped up Tony in his arms, hugging him to his chest as he shook and mumbled, but he couldn't make out a word. Tony clung to him desperately as Steve stroked soothing up and down along his spine trying his best to remember what his mother had done to him when he was having a nightmare.

It was only different, that he couldn't recall any night when he reacted to a nightmare as badly as Tony did.

So apparently Tony had nightmares that didn't allow him a night's rest. But Steve hadn't heard anything like tonight before. Which would have made him wonder why this was a special occasion, if he hadn't been so occupied rocking Tony in his lap. And the teen looked even more fragile like this.

Like a small child. Lost, and without his parents or safety or a secure point to turn to.

This parallel seemed painfully true.

They both barely slept at all. Every time Steve thought Tony settled and tried to tuck him back into his bed, so that he could leave and get some rest of his own Tony let out small miserable whines, his lips wobbled and curled up into a ball clutching at Steve's lingering hand as if his life depended on it.

It was all the same whenever Steve nodded off. They couldn't actually squeeze together in Tony's small bed, so Steve was all crouched on the edge, Tony trashing and trembling the whole night whenever he couldn't feel Steve's presence or even when he fell back to deeper sleep.

Steve knew he could leave Tony there. And Tony wouldn't hold it against him. He probably wouldn't even remember Steve the next morning or whatever time he gets up. And he hada test to write tomorrow.

But Steve would never do that. And not just because he had a too-kind heart. It was about Tony. Tony being vulnerable and unable to defend himself from the torment of his own mind. And Steve couldn't leave him like this.

It didn't matter that he won't be thanked later. Nor that he could never bring up the topic, because Tony awake was too guarded to allow such weakness. He wanted to help him. Even if he didn't know what he wanted to help exactly.

Maybe he was a bit selfish too. In the far corner of his brain he cherished this thought to see Tony's eyes smile. But he found this little secret wish of his justified. It was okay. Since it would always remain a wish…

So Tony's parents died.

Steve could never imagine how that might feel. But when hementioned the topic of his parents, Tony's expression tightened, but he didn't seem otherwise affected. He didn't like them at all. That much he straightforward stated and refused to listen to any further reasoning of Steve that tried to prod him for more information or to convince him to try and take a look at the problem of his parents from a different view point. They hadn't had such great relationship. That was as far as Tony'd ever go.

But still... that nightmare proved that Tony was missing them no matter how much he was trying to surpass such feelings. What surpass? Deny their existence back to the time he was born!

His mother was his family for Steve. He couldn't imagine a life where they weren't so close. He couldn't imagine how Tony's life must have been.

And thank goodness and everything in Heavens Steve's mother was the best. She was supportive even when Steve couldn't really reason why he wanted to take Tony who didn't even have a family name under her roof. A total stranger. But she agreed. And here they were.

He just hoped his mom will forgive him for his failed test. Steve would be surprised if he passed the test. He square on nodded off in the middle and when he glanced down at his paper as the teacher was about to collect them he couldn't make out a word of his handwriting...

TBC

I hope you liked it at least a little bit... :)