I do not own things and spoilers and stuff.
And I do not follow the exact rules of the MCU … Ah well… You know me by now : D
Chapter Four.
"This isn't that bad." Tony snarked, pinching his fork into an innocent strawberry before plopping it into his mouth. He'd already devoured the entire bowl of yogurt and had just started working on the colourful fruit salad. He hadn't had a full on variated breakfast since a long time. He had practically lived on coffee and cereal in these past few months. No kidding. Cereal only. Sometimes, he'd sit on his bed with a whole package of cereal, sadly watching stupid cat videos to cheer himself up. Obviously, eating the cereal like someone would casually eat chips did certainly not satiate his hunger in any kind of way, and the ridiculous cat videos couldn't even wreak a thin smile on his face.
Steve had unilaterally decided that he couldn't live on plain cereal any longer. He had basically forced him to nurture himself in a much healthier way. Pepper used to do these things, but she wasn't there and he didn't want to treat himself with billionaire meals. In his mind, he didn't deserve such luxury for the least bit, but he subconsciously didn't show that with other people around.
"You expected this to be bad? Why, thank you for having faith in me." Steve said. He was lying down beside his friend. The bed was big enough for the both of them because Tony had – of course – tried to get as much luxury and gadgets for his friends, his family. On the contrary of the high tech engineer, Steve preferred just a casual, normal bed like in the old days.
Tony gave him a brittle smile. "Welcome." he changed his position so that he was closer to the edge of the bed. Then, he abruptly swiped all the things from the night table that was standing next to his bed. It was done with such an unneeded force that the books flew to the other side of the room, a pen rolled underneath a coffee table and some sleeping pills disappeared into nothingness. Steve almost stood up to pick everything up, but he had already accepted Tony's bluntness and decided to clean it up later. The brunette innocently smiled at him, to which Steve shook his head in a disapproving way. Tony shrugged indifferently, gathered the two dirty bowls and crudely put them onto each other before placing them onto the now empty night table. He did the same with the other crockery.
"That's one way to go. Anyway, Covis is a real pain in the bum." Steve directly complained. That suddenly brought something to his mind; it was really fortunate that Tony hadn't designed the coffee machine to be able to walk. Then, Covis could just jump into bed with them at any time. A talking coffee machine in bed with a coffee-addicted person. Now that's something to avoid.
"He's supposed to be like me. I guess that worked out pretty well." Tony explained. Then, he raised his right eyebrow, stared at the blonde and mockingly titled his head to the side. "Did you just say bum?" he smirked.
Steve ignored his irrational question without even thinking about it. "Does he also clean up things in such an offbeat way?" He asked in the most formal way ever.
"Don't know, you should ask him. But you said bum."
"I think I don't want to." The corners of his mouth quirked up with a quick movement. "And yes, I said bum. Can't handle your pal using groovy words?"
"They do sound fancy. I think I'm going to use bum instead of ass from now on. It sounds quite British, doesn't it?" he rhetorically asked. Then, he shifted his gaze and dramatically stared into the distance of the room before speaking with his best British accent ever. "Are you totally bollocks? Blimey, you bloody wanker, why must thy speak so much rubbish? I shall scream that thy don't know your onions." His pupils then sprung back to look at Steve's horrified expression; his eyes were dilated and he was gaping at him in confusion.
"What?" Tony asked carelessly. The blonde's mouth then twitched, and he certainly couldn't keep his laugh hidden anymore.
"What the hell Rogers?" Tony asked in the most serious way possible - not.
Steve then shook his head, corners of his eyes crinkled. "That was ridiculous."
"That is offensive to British people... " Tony spoke, feeling a sudden itch stinging in his throat.
"I'm pretty sure no British person actually talks like that. Onions?"
"Downtown Abby and -" Tony couldn't finish his sentence as he fell into a small coughing fit, he held his chest from the stinging pain building up inside his lungs. Tears prickled his eyes and his skin went scarlet. Steve had already rushed over to his side to smack on his back in his most gentle way, which was still hard in the genius's opinion. Tony managed to get some air again after a while and started to calm down while Steve hung over him to presumably check every atom on his face. The brunette looked at him and gave him a half-smile, signalling he was okay now. Steve then sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at his friend with his brows knitted in a frown.
"Thanks." whispered Tony with a rough voice, biting on his bottom lip. He looked down at his lap and twirled a part of the sheets around his fingers. He felt utterly embarrassed, he could've handled the coughing fit on his own.
"You're still sick, you should probably rest some more. Without putting up British accents." Steve said, already having put the craziness and cheers aside.
"Hm-hm." Tony was sure he looked like a small child right now. Hopeless, sick and weak - not that every child's weak and hopeless, but he looked like one in general. He had wanted people to notice him - his friends noticing his pain and coming out to help him, but he didn't want them to worry about him either. It was quite the paradox, he wanted them to worry, but not worry about him at the same time. Wait, worrying was different than caring. That was the right word; he wanted them to care.
Another thing was that he surely didn't want to ever have nightmares of the team killing him again. Clint threatening him, Natasha almost shooting him, Hulk throwing him off a ravine, Thor actually slamming him down the ravine... The only person who hadn't threatened or actually murdered him yet was Steve.
Over all, he'll always be taunted by these pathetically modified delusions. Heck, he wasn't even certain if he was living in reality right now. What if this was the nightmare-Steve that was trying to kill him? It was possible that this Steve was going to stab him in the back, it was possible. Or was it? Damnit, this was all so confusing. He had to find out whether this Steve was going to kill him or not. He just had to figure out if he was living in reality or in some sort of figment of his weary brain.
Tony looked up at the super soldier in determination.
"Steve, let's fight." he said, watching how his friend's expression changed from worry to sudden surprise.
"What? No." The blonde spoke with a slight hint of disgust in his voice.
"Let's spar. I want to see if I still have the strength to take on the almighty Captain America."
Steve shook his head in disapproval. "First of all, I'm not in a fighting mood right now. Second, you look pathetic and I don't want to hurt you again."
"I will poke you if you won't fight me." Tony threatened.
"You're sick! Literally. You barely have the strength to stand up! How are you going to fight?"
"I can do it." he squabbled, getting ready to step out of bed.
"Tony please - "
"I can do it. Just - " With a small groan, he managed to lever himself up from the bed. His legs wobbled for a slight moment, and Steve had already risen to come to his rescue, but he regained his balance again as soon as he seeked support from the wall. "Tada!" He exclaimed happily, unconfidently trying to stand without the help of a wall. He managed to so in just a couple of seconds, and proudly looked at the other man's way.
Steve crossed his arms and shot him an unimpressed glare. "I'm still not agreeing to this."
Tony rolled his eyes in frustration. "Then I'll go and punch a bag myself. You either come and fight me, or I'll just take my anger out on a lifeless sack and I won't hold back. Your choice." he sassily turned around and stumbled his way out of the master bedroom, heading towards the specially Avengers-modified gym that was one floor below. Steve followed his lead like a mom watching her offspring. Sometimes, Tony would almost fall over from the dizziness of the sickness he'd been gifted by standing in the pouring rain - that stupid suicidal fool. Whenever Tony almost lost his balance, Steve would wrap his arms around him to keep him up, yet Tony didn't accept his help for the least bit. He pushed him away, telling the confused soldier he could handle it alone.
"You're so stubborn." Steve muttered as he walked behind the stumbling and toddling engineer, watching him closely with narrowed eyes, glowing with concern. One way or another, Steve knew he was going to fall splat on the hard ground. This time though, he'd be there to catch him, even though his friend kept on trying to push him away in his always unregenerate state.
They both eventually made their way over to the elevator, Tony pressing the button to the gym floor, and Steve still following him like an overprotective mama bird. The stubborn man leaned against the elevator's wall, slowly puffing air in and out. His lungs hurt every time he took a breath, the world was gradually spinning around him, but that didn't stop him from finding out if this Steve was fake or not. He was still able to talk and to move, that was what matters.
The genius looked at the blonde standing in front of him, arms crossed and brows furrowed. In an instance, as if it was a miracle, Steve stared down at him. Their eyes met, and Steve, who was unable to endure the silence, decided to speak up.
"I'm not going to fight you, Tony. You're sick and mentally unstable. You don't have to fight, you don't have to get physically stronger right now."
"Fine."
"So that means you'll accept my help and go back to bed now?" Steve asked hopefully.
The elevator doors opened; they had arrived at their destination - Tony's destination. "No." he said before barging out the box. Steve rolled his eyes, unfolded his arms and walked behind him. The blonde knew he could easily pick up the smaller man and drag him over to his bed, yet he didn't do it. In his opinion, Tony had to find out himself that he just wasn't mentally and physically stable enough to actually go out and do things that require strength and coordination. He had to feel his exhaustion in any other way, and eventually oblige to it. It was a nasty tactic, but it had seemed to work before, so why not use it again, was Steve's vision. Still, he really didn't want to bring down Tony's health even more.
"You know, you should stop proving yourself to be strong, because you're currently not." he tried again, in hope the engineer would give up on his 'okay-act.' It worked the other way around though; Tony only felt the urge to prove himself grow even bigger. That stupid ego.
"For goodness sake Steve, I can do it! Watch me." Tony sneered, making his way over to the big gym.
"I'll definitely watch you." Steve mumbled to himself. The nostalgia hit him as he stepped one foot back into the giant gym hall. He had spent most of his time there, killing one punching bag after the other, as if there as an unlimited supply. He was mostly the only person who would hang out there, as Clint and Natasha would work out in the dummy-simulation room, Bruce didn't have to work out and Tony... Well Tony was just being Tony. It was always him and the punching bag. Tony had even designed new bags that would be able to endure his strength. Side note - they didn't.
So why would Tony randomly go and smash a so called Captain America proof punching bag, if he'd never been in the gym before?
Because of that goddamn ego.
"Earth to Steve?" Tony was waving his hand in front of the super soldier's eyes. When he noticed he got his attention, he held up a black T-shirt and some new grey jogging pants with red stripes he'd apparently fetched from a locker. "I'm going to need to get dressed. In case you don't want to see my dick, I think you should go and wait somewhere else." he said, raising one eyebrow. "Or you could just turn around. Your call."
Steve could notice the sweat already forming on his friend's feverish forehead. This wasn't a good idea at all. Why did he agree to this? Oh, right - he didn't. It was just that he couldn't stop Tony whatsoever, and he wanted to teach him a lesson too. "I'm sure you're going to regret this." he replied.
"I don't regret anything, never ever." Tony answered with a rough and painful voice, shaking his head for emphasis.
"Even Sokovia?"
That seemed to trigger something inside the genius's mind. His eyes shifted to the ground within a second, and he suddenly seemed to have trouble breathing as well. "... Just turn around Rogers." he sighed out, making a rather weak 'turn around' gesture with his free hand. Steve passively turned his back to the engineer who immediately started undressing himself. Steve could hear a piece of clothing fall down to the neat wooden ground, and he tried to keep himself from turning around. To distract himself, and to get some insight into Tony's mind as well, he casually continued the conversation.
"Do you regret making Ultron?"
He heard a long sigh from behind. "That was one of the worst mistakes I've ever made." Tony admitted, shocking the blonde with his honest answer. Maybe, they were finally getting somewhere.
"Do you regret signing the accords too?" Steve asked carefully, putting his hands in his pockets as he looked down at his feet, waiting for an answer.
"If I knew I'd lose you... - everyone like that, I would've never signed it in the first place... You can look again, by the way."
Steve turned around, facing the now slightly shaking brunette. The black shirt was way too big for him, and the jogging pants didn't fit that well either. He gave him a puzzled look, these clothes looked way to familiar.
"Are you wearing my clothes?"
Tony fiddled with his hands, subconsciously putting on his well-known big puppy eyes. "Uhm. I don't know. You've probably left them here and... I accidentally grabbed them... Yeah, I guess so." he awkwardly rambled.
The blonde snickered. "That's cute."
Tony looked up, raising one eyebrow. "Are you implying that I'm cute?" he asked, trying to hide his smile. Steve's eyes went wide within a second as he realized he'd said yet another gay thing in front of this man. He seriously needed to get his feelings together, otherwise he might end up kissing the guy one way or another.
Wait what?
Out of awkwardness, he stereotypically rubbed behind in his neck, looking down to the ground. "Well... ehm. I - I didn't mean it like that, I mean..." he stuttered.
Tony shook his head, waving with his right hand. "Don't worry about it, shit happens."
"I guess... Are you sure you wanna do this? We could always go back and do less energy taking stuff. Like reading a book. " he suggested, but soon got the idea that Tony didn't approve the idea of reading. Especially reading real life books, on real life paper.
"Or something else." he corrected himself, in hope Tony would give in and just stop this stupid act.
"I can do it." he snorted, wrapping up his fingers and hands with dark blue coloured wraps. The still noticeable bruises on his hands caught Steve's attention again. They were slowly starting to fade away, but they were still there. He still had to experiment if Tony was actually afraid of mirrors or not - he'd try something out after the stubborn bastard was done with his so called work-out.
Meanwhile, Tony had put his heavy bag gloves on and had already made his way over to one of the hanging punching bags. Steve decided to sit down on the floor, his back resting against the wall. He'd watch his friend closely. After all, he was still sick and in absolutely no condition to even fight, but he had to learn his lesson somehow. It was only the question if he'd really give up on being strong once he was done. That was the thing; Tony Stark never gave up. He'd broken down once, gotten himself together again, and had to break again for a chance to get fixed. It was like a car; you first have to open up the entire thing before you can actually fix it. Tony had to open up for once, only then, Steve would be able to help him.
The loud sounds of fists hitting the leather echoed through the entire gym hall. The blonde looked up; Tony was continuously smashing the punching back, without holding back whatsoever. He really tried to demolish it, and even though it was nothing compared to his own strength, it still impressed the super soldier somewhat. Even when he was sick, had a fever and hadn't slept properly for ages, even when he had lost some weight and had no energy, he was still able to punch that fricking bag. Well done Stark, he'd done the job. He had proved that he was strong, even though Steve was already aware of that.
More sweat started to pour down his face, and his breathing became louder each second. If he wouldn't calm down, he'd hyperventilate or get a panic attack.
And he was totally right about that. Tony was still repeatedly punching the stupid bag. He only wanted to look strong in front of this man who could do anything. He wasn't a weak pussy, who needed help when he had a coughing fit, he didn't need any help from anyone. As if they cared, as if this fake Steve actually cared.
His breathing started to get more shallow with each punch. He swear he saw the red leatherish surface of the bag moving towards him. The air was thick with moisture, sweat lingering in the air. Tony stopped abruptly, and tried to catch his breath again. Instead, he ended up gasping for oxygen, but he couldn't - the walls were suddenly closing in. The darkness was overwhelming. It felt suffocating - he was suffocating.
Faces of his teammates started to dwell around him, screaming and shouting his mistakes at him; they called the names of the people that were killed because of his inventions. He knew all of them, he had looked them up; he had seen the hate messages towards him.
He took off the gloves and tore off the wraps, throwing them in a random direction. Then, he looked down at his hands, realizing they weren't actually his hands. Or were they? A weird feeling started to rumble inside of his stomach, a burning, yet ice-cold feeling that could be described as a mix of shock and confusion. He didn't recognize himself anymore, his hands, his body parts, they weren't his. He wanted to throw them away, he wanted to get rid of these strange fingers, yet he couldn't. Scream, was his next thought – but scream for what, for who?
He needed help.
"Cap?" he whispered, looking around, his vision inconveniently blurred and his body shaking. The room wasn't even recognizable anymore; everything had become blurry and distorted. Had the bastard just left? He knew it, it was a trick to kill him. He was going to die - Steve had killed him.
The thoughts were accelerating inside his head. He wanted them to slow so he could breathe but they wouldn't. He felt his heart hammering inside his chest. The room was spinning around him, and he squatted onto the floor. He felt so sick, so confused.
"I'm here."
He felt a strong hand massaging his shoulder, and looked up.
"Steve?" he muttered, voice breaking.
The super soldier had settled down beside him. He looked into his eyes. "I'm here, breathe. You're safe, with me, in the gym. Remember? You're wearing my clothes, and you still look cute."
"Cu... -cute?"
Steve brought him closer to his chest and started gently caressing his hair. That seemed to calm the genius down a bit, but he was still looking pale and sweaty; it was as if he'd run a marathon, or climbed an enormous mountain without wearing the suit. "Yes. Breathe in, and out. Slowly, like that... Good job. You really pushed yourself to the limit on this one, buddy." he said soothingly.
Tony turned his head a little, looking into the soldier's eyes. "I proved... you wrong." He stuttered.
"Yes, yes you did. You proved me wrong. You're a tough one." Steve said. He really was impressed by the fact that the genius had tried to exercise, even though it wasn't a good idea at all.
"You're not going to kill me?"
That seemed to catch him off guard for a second. Tony thought his intention was to murder him? He wondered where he'd gotten that idea from – maybe that was what he saw in the nightmares. Steve shrugged off his detective-like thoughts, realizing he had to be alert and caring right now instead of rationally analyzing his friend. "Of course not. What makes you think that I would straight up kill you?"
He shrugged, not wanting to bring up the nightmares yet. "Everyone does..."
"You look very alive to me... or do you feel different?" he asked, observing the painful look on his face. Tony nodded.
"You feel dead? Like a zombie?" Steve guessed, making a mental note that he had to look up some information about several mental disorders on the internet. He couldn't diagnose him, and taking him to a counselor was absolutely out of question since Tony hated these things.
"I do."
"What do you see when you look into the mirror then?"
"Nothing..."
"Nothing?"
"Darkness... Unrecognizable shit..." he let out a shaking sigh. "A monster."
They had gone through this already - several times actually. He had to convince him that he wasn't a terrible human being, but that was going to be harder than said. Why did Tony always tell himself that he should grow some balls and that he should stop whining? Why would anyone do that in general? Developing a high self-esteem isn't something you do in one day. You can't just tell someone with a broken leg to stand up and run towards a hospital themselves; they're going to need some help with that. Just like someone with a low self-esteem – you need to help them burst through their insecurities.
"You're not a monster. Snarky teeth and a cold heart defines a monster. The last time I checked, you didn't have either of those."
"Still..."
"You're a gift to this world, to this entire universe." He carefully took Tony's cold hand into his own and slowly placed it over the engineer's heart. "Feel that?" he began. Tony looked at their hands, and he felt his own heart beating irregularly down in his chest. In discomfort, he then looked back at Steve, mouth slightly opened.
"That's called a purpose. You're alive for a reason. Don't you ever forget it." He spoke determinedly, giving a light squeeze in Tony's hand as he still held it. They stared at each other for a moment, one going through all reasons why he shouldn't be alive, and one going through the reasons why he should keep on living.
"And you're not a monster." Steve continued. "You're just a confused man who has made some mistakes. Everyone has to live with their failures, no matter how big. You can do it too. I know you can. You don't have to prove yourself, because I believe in you." He said, looking into Tony's glassy eyes. Eyes filled with disbelief; his rationalistic reasoning was telling him not to fall for this, but his heart was telling him there was still hope, there was someone who cared - he was safe with his friend. Steve wasn't going to kill him, he was real.
Steve sighed. "When I just came out of the ice, I was confused and I felt… detached from reality. The world I once knew was completely gone – been wiped away, and I hadn't experienced it. It was hard to trust people, it was hard to walk around knowing everything could be just a dream… " He fell silent for a couple of seconds, remembering the night's he'd spent walking around the city, learning new things and missing his old, usual home. He gave another light squeeze in Tony's hand to catch his attention again. "Thing is, I learned to believe in people, and in myself and my surroundings too. You might feel like you're living in a nightmare right now, but I'll get you out of it. Whether you're stuck in reality or fantasy, I'll be there to pull you back on track."
"I trust you... Don't let me down..." Tony whispered eventually, now convinced this wasn't a fake persona with the intention to hurt him. He was thankful for the motivational speech, but couldn't find the words – or had too much attitude to express them. That's all for now. He'd get Steve a fruit basket later – self-made of course.
"I never will." The super soldier said with a half-smile. "Thank you for being honest with me. You should do that more often."
Tony nodded, hiding a small smile. "I should... Yeah." His voice cracked. He only noticed now how tired he had become. His limbs felt numb, his mind felt blank. Everything about him felt heavy. He let his head loll from one side to the other, eyes closing and fluttering open again.
"You need a shower. Let's get you to the bathroom." Steve said, standing up and pulling Tony up with him. He wrapped one arm around his waist, and lied Tony's other arm around his neck for support. Like that, they slumped towards the elevator, that brought them three floors up, and opened its doors later. Steve and Tony stumbled out, and made their way over to the bathroom on that floor. It was close to Steve's bedroom, so the journey back wouldn't be as much of a hell as going there.
Steve opened the bathroom door and dragged the genius in with him. Luckily, there was a small stool standing in the corner. He grabbed it with his free hand and brought it closer. Then, he gestured Tony to sit down on the stool, which he surprisingly did. Then, Tony looked up at him. "I don't want to shower with you..."
"That's okay. I'll turn around, like before." he said, receiving a dubious glare from his friend.
"I promise I won't look."
Tony sighed. "Okay." He was too tired to even come up with a witty response at this moment. The Advil he'd taken earlier was definitely working out. He had lived through his little boost of energy and stubbornness, but he just felt his body temperature rising and his brain becoming drowsier with every second. Maybe, a shower would do him good.
The shower didn't do him good.
First of all, when he was washing his hair, he accidentally got shampoo in his eye, which made him groan, and that made Steve almost turn around – almost. The guy was only one second away from looking at his dick; something he really wanted to avoid. He had asked the soldier to just wait outside the bathroom, but he wouldn't fall for that. What a bummer. Second, he almost slipped and fell because his brain wouldn't cooperate, but he got a hold of himself just in time. This stupid flu was giving him a bad time. Last, Steve actually turned around, had a staring contest with the not so orange carrot, and immediately received a towel on his pretty face.
"Ar' you happy now? You've seen Stark naked." Tony said as he pulled a baggy AC/DC shirt over his head and finished dressing up. He then took the towel in his hands and rubbed it over his head to dry his hair.
"I've seen worse." Steve answered. "I'll get you some medication while we're here. Wait a minute." He said, crouching and opening one of the cabinets that was underneath the sink. Advil, Paracetamol, sleeping pills, toothpaste, plasters… He grabbed some of the Advil and was ready to close the cabinet again, until he caught a glimpse of something shiny in the back. As he reached for it, he gently moved the bottles and pills out of the way. When he had retrieved his hand, he saw it was a small, plastic handheld mirror, one that hadn't been broken yet.
Not yet. If he'd show the mirror to Tony, would he punch it again? The man would probably suffer from another panic attack if he'd do such a thing, but it was the only way to find out if Tony was afraid of his own reflection, or even mad at his looks. He knew Tony felt detached from reality already, but there still wasn't an explanation for his fear of mirrors – if there was one. So, after a quick span of thinking whether he should risk it or not, he stood up properly and smiled at his friend.
"Your hair is all messed up now." Steve began. Tony only nodded, looking at the door's way as a sign to finally go to bed again.
"Here, take a look for yourself. You might want to use some gel for this jungle of hair on your head." Steve brought the mirror up in front of the shaky, feverish man's face. His sickness surely wasn't going to help him not get a panic attack, but Steve had to be sure if Tony really hated his own reflection and had punched it in the other bathroom. He just had to know if the mirror - his reflection - had been the trigger for nearly mutilating himself.
Tony's normally big, brown pupils that were already shrunk to an immense small size, slowly started to fade to a darker shade. It was almost as if they became plain black, surrounded by a web of minuscule dark pink veins swimming in salty liquid.
Despite of the increasing amount of sweat forming on his face, and his trembling fingers simultaneously even clasping the towel more, Tony's eyes were the only two things that currently caught Steve's attention. The two orbs of knowledge and traumatic experiences were a window to the engineer's closed off mind. Tony was mostly readable through his eyes, and if you were able to catch the emotion his eyes would give away, then you'd really know how to catch Tony Stark in a lie. Unless Tony tried to control his eye movements, which could be quite unfortunate to those with bad observance powers.
So right there, Tony's glassy, widened eyes seemed to transform into their peaceful, weary position again. He seemed to let out a small sigh too, in hope Steve wouldn't notice it. But he did. The genius's beautifully long lashes were hanging over his chocolate coloured pupils. His eyes were partly closed from the exhaustion the flu had gifted him.
"I don't see it."
"See what?"
"The thing on..." he paused. "The face - my face."
"You can't see it? Look closer."
"Meh. Gives me the brainkiller. 'm tired Steve."
Tony's voice sounded rougher and more painful than before. It was as if he had shoved down a cactus in his own throat; something that would probably hurt like crazy. Do people actually eat cacti? He sure had to google that sometime after he was sure Tony wouldn't do anything to harm himself ever again. Surely, that was going to take an eternity. Even before the Avengers, Tony had been a broken man, and people had presumably tried to fix him in that time, but he - Tony being Tony - had probably denied their help. Pepper and Rhodey had always had a shoulder free for him to lean on, except he never took the opportunity to actually do such a thing. It probably seemed helpless, weak. Steve kind of understood why he didn't accept help from anyone at the time. It was because he didn't need it so desperately. Now, on the contrary, he needed more than just a shoulder. Steve was trying to offer some well-deserved help, it was difficult for Tony's ego to accept it, but he would – eventually…
"Tony, can I ask you something?"
"Yeah you may. Depends on th' ser'ousness actually."
"Do you think everyone hates you?"
"Some peeps hate me. Some 're obsessed with me... That's creepy. Like, Freddy Kruger creepy. Or Scream creepy. Scream's stalk'rish creepy..."
Steve sighed, interrupting the genius's irrational rambling. "Do you think the team hates you?" he asked.
"Meh…" he shrugged, not feeling like answering such sentimental questions. Different thoughts and images of the nightmares he'd been having for the past few months carelessly ran through his mind, almost lifting him out of reality.
"Do you think I hate you?"
"Why would you be here otherwise? I expected hard'r questions Capsicle."
"Do you hate yourself?"
Tony looked down at the ground for a second, anxiously wiggled somewhat with his toes and then looked up again, eyes locking with the soldier's. "... Do you?"
"Stop avoiding the question, answer it."
"I love me." he smiled. "Don't you?"
"Err..." Steve went silent for a couple of seconds. Then, he leaned forward and randomly placed his hand on Tony's with sweat covered forehead. He could feel the heat waving through his own skin; his fever had gone out of control. "Let's get you to bed, you look tired." he then said.
"Thanks fo' the heads up... No shit Sherl-"
"Yeah right." Steve interrupted. "I'm sorry for bothering you for too long. Now go to sleep."
"Is it becaus' I'm hot?" The brunette snickered wearily. Instinctively, he softly bit on his bottom lip as he looked at the other man.
Steve smiled. He took the towel from Tony's hands, opened the cane laundry basket, and tossed the dirty piece of cloth in there. "Too hot." he chuckled.
"Thought so... You shou' go to sleep as well then, princess."
Steve grinned at the feminine nickname. "Ever seen a muscular princess with a star spangled spandex suit who's nearly ten decades old?"
"Yes, Natasha."
"She'd kill you off if she would have heard that."
"I know."
The blonde wanted to let the engineer lean on him as they returned to Steve's bedroom, but he wouldn't accept the help; he probably considered as an embarrassment and a fail of being strong. Steve's heart sunk to his feet. He had only accepted his help for a few minutes, but he was now full on pretending to be okay again. Right after they've had that conversation. When was he going to give up on this ridiculous act?
Tony abruptly stopped, and Steve almost bumped into his back.
"Listen." he sighed.
Ignoring the fact that Tony just said listen, Steve began rambling out of concern. "What is it? You really should rest you know? Your fever's probably rising and I suppose you don't want me to bring you to the hospital. Sleep will - "
"I will succeed in killing myself one day." Tony interrupted, looking over his shoulder, eyes drilling into Steve's. For a moment, they seemed soulless; a mix of pain, sorrow and over all a bottomless pool of darkness. It was scary, because it was shocking to say that his eyes had suddenly changed from overemotionally in pain, to absolute nothingness.
Steve swallowed, pupils dilated and felt his heart erratically thumping inside of his chest all of a sudden. "You won't." he gaped.
"Yes, yes I will." Tony whispered vigilantly. He drew a long breath and exhaled. "And you won't be there to stop me."
A/N - Thank you so much for reading! I hope the format is okay now. The doc had gone totally crazy last time!
By the way, if you guys - my fantastic readers - notice any grammatical or spelling errors, feel free to PM me. Now, I'm just a Dutch person trying to improve her English vocabulary by writing and reading literature. So if you see a mistake, please tell me! I'm eager to learn new stuff, that's why I always end up reading through all kinds of philosophical sites and that's also why I sometimes open up a dictionary for new words.
So what do you think; how will Steve be able to stop Tony from hurting himself again?
Also, what was your favorite part of this chapter?
Don't forget to leave a review : ) I always love reading these and they literally make my day. It's almost as good as chocolate - and chocolate is basically heaven.
Toodles!
-Skye.