Hi guys! Yes, I know I'm supposed to be working on 'World, and I am, just slowly, but this idea couldn't stay out of my head ever since I watched the Civil War trailer. And yes, that means SPOILERS. Not a lot really, just one small but powerful scene. I promise, I haven't abandoned my other story, I am in the process of writing it, I've just been caught up with school, exams, and life problems. Nevertheless, finals are FINALLY DONE TODAY. And therefore, here is a little story to kickstart the new month!

Note: This is in no way related to my other two stories, they're not even in the same verse. This does ignore the ending of IM3, meaning that Tony never got the shrapnel removed from his chest. Also, I've taken liberties with Civil War. Whatever is written here is in no way an accurate representation of the actual plot. That we will not know until 2016. I've taken my own take on the events in MCU and the trailer, and this is just a short story born from an insistent plot bunny.

Hope you enjoy this piece!

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel. Honestly. I wish I did though.

Tony Stark was familiar with being pushed away.

It might seem oxymoronic, given the fan base he had, the thousands of people – male and female alike – screaming his name to the heavens, the way he had girls eating out of his hands in three seconds flat. He could make people swoon just by appearing, could draw a woman to bed just by whispering in her ear.

But he wasn't always like that.

Tony remembered when he wasn't good enough for anyone.

Not good enough for his mother, who grew irritated at his penchant for mischief. Neither for his father, who had always said that he'd never measure up to the standards of Captain America. Wasn't good enough to be considered an Avenger. Wasn't good enough for Pepper – sweet, lovely Pepper who he couldn't even save from AIM. He couldn't even remember what her favorite fruit was on a good day, let alone their anniversary. (Thank himself for JARVIS) He'd been chasing after people's approval for so long that it became a subconscious acknowledgement that he, Tony Stark, would never measure up to the standards of others.

So he stopped chasing after them, and created a name for himself.

He grinned at the media, threw parties and invited hundreds of strangers, spent his money without a care in the world all because he could. And it felt great. It felt awesome not caring about what others thought, not having to try and meet their expectations. He ignored the little ache in his chest whenever Pepper frowned at him disapprovingly, turned away from her disappointed gaze and shushed the voice in his head that whispered not good enough. He grinned through everything, flaunted his wealth, laughed in the face of death without a single loss of arrogance.

It was all shot to hell when he woke up in Afghanistan, a car battery attached to his chest and an old man over his body. He struggled through pain, betrayal and guilt and emerged on the other side better than ever. He continued partying, drinking and staying up for days on end. Taking perverse pleasure in throwing a wrench in Hammer's plans and completely suppressing any thought of palladium poisoning. And if there was a little voice in his head telling him that he wasn't good enough to save Yinsen, well, no one needed to know.

And of course, when Phil Coulson stepped into his tower with that benign smile of his and the file of the Avengers in his hands, Tony repressed the urge to smash his face into the nearest glass surface. Instead, he smirked, and snarked at him, all the while masking his rage and insecurities, hiding behind a grinning mask. When Coulson died, Tony was surprised to feel upset – of course, he didn't show it because God forbid that Tony Stark has a heart. And when he confronted Loki – an honest to God alien, because life hates them like that – he hated that between the god's purring and velvety voice, the words that the crazed invader had spoken had made him feel worthy. That someone had looked at him and realized that he fit their expectations. Even after they'd defeated the chitauri and their leader, even after the schwarma, after the clean up, he still heard that voice telling him that he was good enough to face all the other Avengers at once and win – and it made him shiver. (But on the Bad Days, he played the conversation over and over and over)

The heroes won, and Tony found himself offering up his tower to his newfound friends – and didn't that just sound sad, as though he were still in pre-school – all of whom declined in their own way. He shrugged off the motion, saying something about them not knowing what they were missing, while his brain just couldn't shut up because he was NOT GOOD ENOUGH. He plastered on a smile, hid behind his sunglasses and drove off into the sunset.

So when one Steve Rogers came knocking on his door a few months later, saying, "Is the offer still on the table?", Tony was understandably shocked. The two of them couldn't stand each other, Steve because Tony was a pompous bastard who was nothing like his father, and Tony because Steve was an uptight boy scout who preached righteousness with his every word. The blond soldier had sheepishly smiled at him and Tony couldn't say no. He nodded and grinned, rambling on about something or the other and eventually, Steve got his own floor and a personalized gym. The Captain had said that he wouldn't be here often, but the next few weeks found his room slowly being cluttered with his own items.

The next to arrive – surprisingly – was Natasha. There was definitely no love lost between the two of them, what with the assassin having to put up with his whims when she was masquerading as his personal assistant. But she had turned up at the door one day and demanded a room to crash in and before he knew it, Tony had given her an entire floor as well. She didn't stay as often as Steve – the guy practically lived there already – but the genius knew she stashed some of her weapons around the tower. The next to drop by was Clint, a few weeks after Natasha dropped by the first time. He moved in without so much as a by your leave that Tony didn't notice the archer until he walked in on the guy making pancakes in his kitchen one day. Tony had just stared, blinked and – "I want some of those." And proceeded to sit down at his own kitchen table. The marksman just rolled his eyes and poured extra batter out.

For a few long months it went like that, with Bruce popping up every now and then, unable to shake off his habitual paranoia despite Tony's attempts at convincing him to stay. The four of them had vastly different lives, with Tony stuck in his lab most of it, Steve trying to catch himself up on modern culture, and the two assassins who still worked for SHIELD. But once a month, they caught up with each other, movies, dinner, whatever they could think of or wanted to do at the moment. And on some months, Bruce made his rare appearance, lighting up the mood. When Steve found his own apartment, Tony felt his heart skip a beat, but forced a smile onto his face and threw a house warming party for the Captain.

The few Avengers, minus Thor, grew closer to each other. They had banded together because of a threat, but Tony could not help but thank Loki in his mind for creating this team. For once in his life, Tony felt comfortable enough in his own skin, the feeling of having to live up to expectations a welcome miss.

So of course, it wouldn't last.

After Sokovia's destruction, Tony crept back into his tower – destroyed, again – and donated tons of money to rebuilding the country and replacing the lives lost, trying futilely to assuage the bone-deep guilt under his skin. He knew that Ultron was his fault. He alone created Ultron, and he alone let loose on earth a weapon of mass destruction. He worked furiously in his lab, trying to rewrite programmings and rebuilding the Iron Legion. It had been a great idea when he had first proposed, but that turned into disaster when Ultron turned his own creations against him.

Tony holed himself in the lab, busying himself with nothing but schematics and diagrams for days until Steve came down. The Captain had taken one look into Tony's bloodshot eyes and dragged him upstairs. He fixed up a meal and a hot drink that had Tony frowning at it for not being alcohol. The food was fantastic though, and Tony gobbled it up so quickly that Steve took pity on him and made him another plate.

That night, when it was dark and Tony had a bottle of scotch in his hand – his third, or fourth bottle, he didn't know – and a glass in Steve's, the genius had switched off his brain-to-mouth filter.

"'s all m' fault." He slurred, exhaustion and alcohol working against him.

Steve shook his head, throwing back the drink, disregarding the burn. "Its not your fault Stark." He said quietly, his baby blue eyes shining with compassion. "Ultron was not your fault."

Tony laughed then, laughed at Steve, at his life, at everything in general. Here he was, sitting next to the man he'd been compared to all his life, and the worse thing was: he could understand why he wasn't good enough for his father. He would never have measured up to the bars that Steve set. "I created Ultron.' He smirked deprecatingly, "I destroyed Sokovia, killed so many people."

Steve reached out and gripped his shoulder, shaking the genius until he turned to look at him. Steve forced Tony to meet his eyes, "You are not responsible for the destruction that Ultron caused. Understand?" He said firmly, not wavering until Tony nodded slowly. The Captain smiled tiredly, then took the bottle from Tony's hands, ignoring the other man's protest as he dragged him to his room, pushing him onto the bed. Tony grumbled at his manhandling but flopped over and fell asleep almost immediately, a warm feeling settling in his stomach. Before he fell completely into sleep's embrace, he murmured, "Cap? Call me Tony."

It never crossed his mind that the Avengers would split up. They were too close knitted for that, even with the addition of newer members. But life had a way of proving him wrong of course, and Tony found himself fighting against his friends, against the people he had come to care about. And heading the opposite faction of course, would be Steve Rogers, known as Captain America and staunch advocate of freedom. Tony found himself in an empty building, the sound of his boots against concrete ringing loudly in the silence of the compound.

He had come here after JARVIS tracked their last known location to this building, them being Steve and his new – or old, to be technical – best friend and assassin extraordinaire, Bucky Barnes. He hadn't even told anyone, hadn't hesitated; just scrambled into his armor and was halfway across New York before he even realized it. Now that he was here, he could understand why JARVIS had been warning him, but chose to inore his faithful butler/AI. Capsicle wouldn't hurt me, he said in response to JARVIS' warning, to which the AI had only told him to be careful.

The sound of another set of footfalls snapped him back into attention, and Tony looked up to see Steve stepping hesitantly into the dim light, his face covered with his cowl and bruises.

Tony nodded at him, "Captain."

Steve just stared at him, entire body tense.

Tony gave an inaudible sigh, "Why are you doing this Cap?" he asked softly, thinking of the destruction their in-fighting had caused, and over a simple legislation that could be ironed out eventually.

Steve looked regretful for a split second, "I'm sorry Tony. You know I wouldn't do this if I had any other choice." The Captian steeled his expression and met Tony's eyes through his visor unwaveringly, "But he's my friend."

Tony blinked.

He'd never been so glad to make a suit that involved a mask before, even when he first started out as Iron Man. Because he would never have lived with himself if Steve – no Captain America saw the way his face crumpled at those words, his chest tightening as though someone had speared him through. "So was I." he said softly, three simple words that failed to convey the multitude of emotions roiling in his chest.

Tony didn't know how, but Steve took that as a cue and threw his shield, the vibranium slamming straight into his chest where he wasn't prepared. The Winter Soldier took that as his cue to attack, and then it was all Tony could do to fend them both off, their fighting style blending with one another despite years of separation. He kept his repulsors to a minimum, not wanting to hurt them despite JARVIS' insistence of utilizing their new upgrade. They kicked him to the ground, punching and taking turns to slam the shield into his face, and Tony just wished he could disappear, their every synchronized move a supporting evidence to Ste-Captain America's statement.

Steve slammed a gloved hand into the juncture at the back of his neck where the face mask fused with the body armor, a weak spot that Tony had told him back before Ultron happened. Tony reacted instinctively to the threat and twisted, firing a repulsor straight into the Captain's abdomen. It flung the hero back, sending him crashing into a pillar where he crumpled to the floor, unmoving.

Tony stared at his prone body, numbness covering his mind like a blanket. An animalistic snarl was all the warning he had before a silver and black blur crashed into him. Tony fought back as hard as he could – not very hard at all – but nothing deterred the Winter Soldier. Barnes had all but abandoned the shield and pummeled him with his fists, uncaring of the split knuckles he got from punching a metal suit with his bare hands. He gripped the neck of the suit and flung Tony against the wall, appearing a second later to shove him further into the plaster, teeth bared and eyes wild. Barnes crushed his left hand against Tony's chestplate, and Tony's eyes widened as he realized the assassin's end game. He pushed back, firing his repulsors in his face, but Barnes kept coming back, only caring about the fact that his friend was down. He slammed his left hand into the chestplate, his fingers curled as steel met steel. The Winter Soldier snarled as he ripped his left hand out viciously, the arc reactor shining brightly in his hands. With barely a thought, he crushed the device until it was little more than twisted metal and walked away.

The moment Barnes tore his arc reactor out, Tony knew it was over. He choked on air, the suit's visual flickering slightly and faded to black. He felt himself drop to the ground, felt his suit locking itself without power, a red and gold coffin for him. He didn't see when Barnes crushed his arc reactor. Didn't see as he hefted Steve on his shoulder and walked away. He only saw darkness, reminiscent of the vision that Wanda had given him, of his nightmares after sending a nuke to space. Except this time there was no chitauri, no Loki, no mothership. Just himself and his failing body.

Tony didn't know if the whole 'darkness encroaching on one's vision' was true because all he could see was darkness. He didn't even know if his eyes were open or not. The genius choked a laugh, feeling his energy drain out of him.

Sorry Pepper, guess I wasn't good enough for Steve either.

So, this will be a two-shot, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Hope you enjoyed this story and please leave a review on your way out!