I Need a Hero
Bruce officially said that Steve couldn't go home until he was talking again. Everyone was too worried and out of sorts to try and keep an eye on his health –mental or otherwise- in the tower. Tony would be the only person to stay near Steve 24/7 but when he himself was almost always near collapse due to food or sleep deprivation, so keeping the two of them here would be beneficial for everyone involved.
Steve ate without complaint so long as the tray was set down a few feet away on the table first.
He wouldn't eat anything in any form of a liquid. No applesauce, pudding or mashed potatoes. He wouldn't drink anything that wasn't in a sealed bottle or carton either.
He never spoke a word or made a sound unless someone scared him. Like loud noises. A cart fell over in the hall once and he'd screamed, covering his hears and huddling over himself for hours before he finally relaxed.
The touch he'd given to Tony's hand a few days before was the only time he'd come near him. He wouldn't allow touch, he wouldn't even look Tony in the eye to let him know what he was feeling, or if he was still in there.
"Steve," he'd said quietly one night when neither of them could sleep. "Baby, look at me. Please."
Remarkably, Steve slowly lifted his head and his eyes, bloodshot but bright, looking at him. Tony smiled. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Steve opened his mouth, as if to speak, when the door opened; a nurse coming to change his bandages. He clammed back up immediately, ignoring any pleas from his husband for the remainder of the night.
It took another three days before he tried again.
"Steve, baby," he said from his chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, watching his face for signs of recognition. "What can I do to help you? Do you need me to hold you? Do you need to scream? Do you need to cry or hit something or write something dow- Or draw! Draw; I can go get you a pen and paper right now if that's what you need." Nothing. "Baby, what can I do?" Finally he turned, looking at him sadly, lips trembling. "Steve?"
"I…" He croaked, voice hoarse from lack of use. "I'm scared…to let you…hold me."
"Why?" Tony urged, slowly getting out of the chair and sitting beside him on the bed, hanging on every word. "I won't hurt you, sweetheart. I'm not gonna hurt you."
"N-no," he shook his head, tears in his eyes now. "You-you'll remember what it was like. Before. And now I'm…" He looked down at himself, closing his eyes.
Tony gasped a little, as if he'd been punched. "Steve," he reached for him again, wincing when he leaned away. "It doesn't matter to me what you look like. I'm in love with you. You could've gotten turned into a purple-spotted woman and I'd still love you just as much. I love your heart, not your body, okay? Somewhere you've gotta know that. Now, if you want me to hold you, then I'm gonna hold you, god damn it."
"I'm still scared," he whispered. Tony scooted closer to him, pained.
"Of me?"
"Of being touched," he stammered, looking up at him. God, his eyes. They were so full of undeserved pain and age as well as naïve youth. Tony's chest ached.
"I won't hurt you," he swore, holding his arms open for Steve to come to him. "I swear to god, Steve, I won't do a thing you don't want me to. You can trust me." He knew that. He knew Tony would hold him and keep him safe. But hands and heat that wasn't his would hurt, right? "It's okay," his voice was gentle and so soft. He wouldn't…
Tony sighed when Steve rested in his arms, bandaged and frail. "Shh…" He slowly wrapped his arms around his body, loose but comforting so he didn't feel trapped. "I got you."
"Tony," he whimpered, tears coming.
"I'm here."
The soldier closed his eyes, crying silently. He breathed in the familiar scent of his husband. The cologne, the oil, the aftershave. He was home. He should've done this days ago. He hadn't felt safe until right this minute. "Don't let go."
"I won't, baby. I won't." He smoothed his hair, feeling how fine and thin it was compared to before. His skin was still soft, but much like paper or skin on an infant, looking as if the smallest touch might break it. But his eyes, those big, blue eyes holding all of those painful things but also his heart. His beautiful, beautiful heart. He was still Steve. Hell, more than anything he was more Steve now than he was when he met him. But that low, crisp voice and even the way he curled his hand around Tony's back as he held him was exactly the same. His love, his Steve. His husband.
He was awed. This brave, sweet man was the same that enlisted five times in the U.S. Army when he weighed ninety eight pounds and a list of medical problems a mile long. He went into the procedure not knowing if he would come out alive because it might help people. He wanted in the war to fight bullies, not cause carnage. He was determined because of who he was, his nature. Strong, brave, lucky, beautiful Steve. "And he's mine," He thought. "You're gonna be okay, Steve. You can get through this. You can get through anything. You're gonna be alright."
"I'm sorry," he whimpered.
"Sorry? For what, baby?" He asked, carefully trying to lift his chin. He fought him, keeping his eyes down.
"I wasn't strong enough. I was weak l-like this. I couldn't stop them," he gulped. "Th-they knew I was married and they still didn't care. I fought, I screamed, but," he shook his head, so ashamed. "They just, kept putting things inside me. I-in my mouth and-!" He sobbed openly, collapsing so Tony had to support him completely. "They tied me up. I tried so hard to fight, I did. I'm so sorry." Tony couldn't breathe, he couldn't speak, he couldn't even move. "They hurt me and they liked it when I hurt. How-how could anyone get…excited from hurting somebody? I don't understand, Tony, I don't understand!" He cried. Tony swallowed, shutting his eyes so he didn't see the tears in them.
"They wanted to hurt you, honey, and they knew it would. God, I'm so sorry, Steve, I'm so fucking sorry they did that to you."
"No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Not Steve. Not him, anyone but him. God, please, no."
"Steve, that was rape. They violated you, and that's not okay. You said no, that makes it not okay. There's some…situations where certain things can be okay, but you have to want those things not-"
"Stop, please," Steve trembled. Tony clacked his jaw shut, hating himself all the more. "Forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive, it's not your fault."
"You f-felt the same way I do," he said, looking at him and fuck it hurt. Tony folded his lips, taking a moment before answering.
"I forgive you, baby," he whispered, hugging him closer.
"You were the only person who'd ever touched me like that," he whimpered.
"I know, I know, Steve, it's okay. You're still mine, and I'm still yours, okay?" He offered a forced smile, holding his face. "Still all mine, baby." Steve cried into his chest, the light of the arc reactor comforting.
"Can you help make it go away?" He asked, trying to steady his voice.
"I can try," he nodded.
"Anything you can do right now?" He wondered, too vulnerable. Tony rested his cheek on top of his head, nodding.
"You wanna tell me how you and Bucky became friends?"
He kept asking about memories and places and things he knew would make him smile. He didn't stop until he was almost asleep.
"Don't go," Steve begged, words heavy with sleep. Tony kissed his hair.
"Never."