A/N: Remember when I thought I would get these out on schedule? Aha. Ahahaha. Hahahahha. *Flies into sun*
ALSO: I need a beta reader. These aren't beta'd (as I'm sure you can tell aha) and I had asked someone a few weeks ago with no response :'(. SO, if you would do me the honor of PMing me if you're interested, that would be lovely! Thanks everyone!
"Tony?" Steve repeated. The brunet was currently leaning very heavily on the door frame. Steve quickly let his eyes wander over his body, making sure he was ok. Not seeing any obvious injuries, he moved to get a better look. "Tony, are you ok? Where have you been? We've-"
"I'm fine, Steve," he spat out with as much venom as he could muster. "God, I was just down getting some drinks. You don't have to mother me." Tony pushed past him-only stumbling a little-and headed into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. The vodka had left his throat dry and scratchy, and he didn't get the chance to do anything about it till now.
Steve scowled at Tony, practically boring holes into the back of his head. "Do you not remember the last time we let you run off with a bottle of-"
Tony slammed the glass onto the counter but kept his back to Steve. "I wasn't running around! I was in the dorm, remember! I was blowing off steam!"
"You had to go to the hospital!"
"It wasn't-" Tony spun to finally face Steve, only to stumble and fall.
Steve quickly shot forward to catch him under his arms. They were on their knees, with Tony's head on Steve's shoulder. The blonde moved his arms so they enveloped Tony completely.
"It wasn't that big of a deal." Tony finished, mumbling into his boyfriend's shoulder.
Steve closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. "It scared me. You're always scaring me, Tony. You go out and... you leave and most the time I don't think you're gonna be back. I think I'm going to get a call from the hospital, or the morgue. And that's it. That's the end. And I don't-" Steve took a shaky breath to calm him self down.
"Don't what?" Tony asked in a small voice. He looked so young burrowing his head further into Steve's shoulder.
"If you can't stop this, Tony," he hugged him a little closer, "I can't do this anymore."
It was then that Tony looked up from where he was hiding. A fleeting look of something flashed across his face before Steve could identify it. It was quickly replaced with anger, but his eyes were swimming with hurt. "Fine." The atmosphere immediately changed from safe, to icy, with Tony standing up and storming towards the bedroom. "Fine, whatever."
The door slammed and Steve closed his eyes. His head was swimming. He knew he had to give Tony the choice, but he somehow felt he was... betraying him. No, he had to do this. It will help him. He stood back up to call everyone on the search party. Once that was done, he figured he would grab some blankets from the closet to use for the couch. And maybe some aspirin and water for Tony.
It was the banging in his head that woke him up.
Well no, he'd been up all night, but it was the head ache reaching full potential that got him to lift his head off the pillow.
He had must have fallen asleep at one point, because there was the glass of water he had tried to retrieve earlier and a bottle of Tylenol. Tony swallowed the pills dry, but followed it by gulping down the water. He fell back into the pillows and rubbed the heal of his palms across his eyes. He could vaguely remember arguing with Steve when he got home. And he definitely remembered the tail end of that conversation. And while he did not like the idea of Steve telling him what to do, he could understand where he was coming from. But, god, it was so frustrating! He loved Steve-he really did-(and he still didn't know if the feeling was mutual) but the guy just needed to back off some times! And he had all these conflicting thought going around in his head to make the decision harder to find (the hangover wasn't helping, either). He wanted to run, to get out (old habits die hard, y'know) but he didn't even want to think about a life with out Steve. He'd be in a drinking comma before the week was up.
15 more minutes of letting these poisonous thoughts fly around in his head, and Tony pulled himself out of the tangled sheets and ventured out into the shared living space. Steve was still huddled up on the couch, looking as cramped as can be. Tony made a mental note to buy a bigger couch, seeing as this probably wont be the last argument they'll have.
Tony continued on to the kitchen after the feeling of guilt had subsided. He was shoving coffee into the machine when he heard rustling coming from the living room. Tony didn't turn around.
"G'morning."
"Morning." The silence was awkward and thick as Tony retrieved a mug.
"Feeling any better?"
"Not really." Tony wasn't looking Steve in the eye. Instead turned back to the view out side their window.
"...is your eye ok?"
It had seemed like a life time ago that Howard had been over, and the question had taken Tony by surprise. He looked over at Steve to find him staring at the fridge behind Tony's shoulder. "Yeah, it's ok. Doesn't hurt."
Steve nodded and the silence stretched on. "Are we..."
"What?"
"Are we going to talk about last night?" Now they were both looking at each other, square in the eye.
Tony sighed and took another sip of his coffee to give him time. "Give me one day." Steve's brow furrowed, but he didn't say anything. "Give me one day to collect my thoughts. We can work through this tomorrow.
The look Tony received from Steve was absolutely devastating. Fuck. "Ok." Steve nodded, turning the hurt expression towards the TV. "Ok, one day."
A/N: This was painful to write, not gonna lie... but I can see why Moffat enjoys writing devastating scenes. Not to compare myself to Satan or anything.
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~Jessi