Note: Sorry for the late update. The second chapter was too long so I cut it into two parts. That fic could be a bit longer than I had planned. Thanks for your reviews, follows and fav'! :)

CHAPTER 2 - TONY PHONE HOME

"I knew I'd find you here."

Steve jumps and instinctively tries to wipe his tears away with the back of his hand. Not that he is ashamed to cry. Even E.T the extraterrestrial had brought tears to his eyes much to Tony's amusement.

"You're not crying, are you?"

"What? Nooooo! Of course not," Steve had protested.

Tony had leaned toward him to study his face more closely.

"Yes, you are!" He had exclaimed, one finger on Steve's moist cheek and a triumphant smile on his lips.

"Ah, leave me alone!"

"Hey, relax Cap! Nothing wrong with crying for a puppet… You know, I cried buckets of tears when Miss Piggy ditched Kermit the frog in the Muppets movie. I was about eight or nine at the time but I remember it well."

"Tony…"

"Kermit looked so sad… It'd broken my heart, really! And I wouldn't like to spoil you but… E.T's not going to die, you know. There are twenty minutes left at least. Ah, look, his heart is lighting up red."

"Will you just sh-"

"Don't want to sound pretentious but don't you think my reactor looks much more classy? I believe the colour blue makes all the diff-"

"SHUT UP!" Steve had yelled, stuffing a cushion over Tony's head.

"That's not fair! I didn't do anything!" Tony had mumbled against the cushion, gesticulating to free himself from Steve's hold and Steve had found it hard to keep a straight face. And when Tony had finally freed himself, all scarlet face and tousled hair, and had pretented to sulk, "That's the thanks I get for trying to comfort people!", Steve had literally burst into laugh. That was just before a cushion whacked into his face. A memorable cushion fight had followed and E.T had long gone back to his planet when Steve had surrendered. He had laughed so much that night that his stomach had hurt.

A few days later, as Steve was giving an interview to the New York Times, Tony's voice had resounded in the room and Steve had bitten the inside of his cheek to keep from swearing out loud. "Tony phone hooooome! Tony phone hooooome! Tony phooooone ho-" (2) It had taken Steve few moments to realise the voice came from his trouser pocket.

"You sound tense, Cap," Tony had said when Steve had picked up his phone, apologising to the young journalist. Steve could easily picture the smirk on Tony's face. "Don't you like your new ringtone? I recorded it myself the other day. Thought it would be a nice way to notify you when I call."

A few weeks later, when Tony had noticed Steve had not deleted that ringtone yet, Steve, to justify himself, had mumbled something about new technologies' complexity.

"Even a six-year-old knows how to change a ringtone, Cap!" Tony had mocked him. "And they let you fly a bomber? No wonder you crashed it!"

"It's not like I had a choice!" Steve had immediately retorted. Tony always had knack for offending his susceptibility. "I couldn't –"

"Land the Valkyrie without the risk of detonating its weapons and endangering the life of the citizens," Tony had finished his sentence. "So you heroically sacrificed yourself," he had dramatically added before rolling his eyes. "I know. I've heard the story a billion times. Is it possible you forgot who my father was?"

That question, imbued with all the sarcasm proper to Tony, had disconcerted Steve because yes, he had 'forgotten' Tony was Howard Stark's son. When had he stopped seeing nothing but Howard's shadow in him? When had he started seeing him for who he was? Steve knew how to change a ringtone. But he'd rather have Tony thinking of him as a new technologies disabled rather than giving him the real reason.

One day, it was Tony's turn to have his eyes shining with tears in the darkness while watching Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. "What you taught me is that I was less important to you than people who had been dead for five hundred years in another country," Indiana blamed his father.

Howard Stark never took his son to a Yankees game. He never played Battleships with him. He never took him to the funfair to go on the Ferris wheel and eat cotton candy. Howard had time for his bottle of scotch but never for Tony. It was Jarvis who taught Tony how to ride a bike without training wheels. Jarvis who put Band-Aids on his skinned knees. Jarvis who heard him cry in the night and always found the right words to comfort him.

Howard didn't keep a picture of Tony on his desk or in his wallet, but a large portrait of Captain America took pride of place on the living room's wall, imposing ghost from the past, and Howard never ran out of praise for that hero who had disappeared twenty-five years prior to Tony's birth and who he had been looking for inceasingly. Tony would often stare at the picture of this man and at his strange outfit with a pinch of jealousy flickering in his heart. He wanted to be tall, and strong, and brave. Just like Captain America. Then maybe his father would not have forgotten to come and see him dance in a Native American costume at the boarding school's Thanksgiving show. For years, he had hoped to see that little spark of pride and admiration in his father's eyes, the same one he had whenever he talked about Steve Rogers, but he had found nothing but disappointment and reproaches. Yes, Tony understood Indiana Jones' bitterness perfectly.

His tears had clung to his lashes for a while but then, too heavy, they had run silently down his cheeks. He had hastened to wipe them off with the sleeve of his sweater, casting a furtive glance at Steve, who had quickly looked away. "Fucking weather!" Tony had grumbled, sniffing hard. "Think I'm coming down with a cold."

Steve had gritted his teeth. He had fought that irrepressible urge to collect Tony's tears with the tip of his finger and prevent them from falling. To throw himself at his feet and beg for his pardon. There are so many things he would have like to apologise for.

He would have liked to apologise for having been an invisible barrier between Tony and his father. He would have liked to apologise for having failed to catch Bucky's hand. Oh God. If only… If only he had saved him… Howard… Maria… Probably none of this would have happened. And Tony… Tony… He would have liked to tell him about that fateful night of december.16 1991. It wasn't the alcohol. It wasn't the winter mist, nor the defective breaks. It was…

But Steve hadn't said anything on that day. Or on any other day. He hadn't said anything…

Did you know?

He still remembers the voice, the intonation, the lips. He remembers the distress he had read on Tony's face. His whole being seemed to scream "Please, tell me you didn't know!" Oh, if only he hadn't known anything.

"Don't bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?"

Crying is not a sign of weakness. Crying is about showing your true self. Hiding nothing. Letting the others read you like an open book. Crying is being brave enough to show your vulnerability. Even heroes have the right to cry. Tony, certainly more than anyone else.

Steve has never been ashamed to cry. But today, those little salted drops seem so incongruous. So disturbing. Tony had always been there for him. And he betrayed him. He betrayed him and almost killed him with his own hands, jesus! To protect the man who murdered his parents. Tony was right. He didn't deserve the shield. He doesn't have the right to cry. It would be too easy.

Thanks for reading! :-)

(1) In Steven Spielberg's "E.T the extraterrestrial", E.T's heart lights up in red whenever he feels strong emotions. It refers to the movie's most famous quote "E.T phone home"

(2) It refers to the movie's most famous quote "E.T phone home"