Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve struggles to admit the connection at first, but he knows it’s there; like he can’t help feeling tied to Tony, like a wire. He tries not to think about it too much. But reality is, nearly all his thoughts are revolved around Tony, or existential questions about his place in the world.

Steve took a picture of them one day, as they were talking, with the Avengers HQ and surrounding trees in the background. They didn’t know. He felt a bit bad about it, as he didn’t tell them about it, and was keeping it hidden. Oh well. It was for art’s sake.

One of the photo’s he decided on using was just perfect. The way Natasha’s shoulder-length hair flowed into the wind, as she looked up at Tony, whose posture was nervous, and looked out to the world, thinking about something. Maybe they were having a deep conversation. Steve didn’t know. But this was a colour design, and he really wanted to get it right, to capture the moment. He was spending a lot of free time on it.

When he had finished another work, a black and white of a kitten he saw overlooking a tower in the city, he went to Tony’s suite, and was pleased to be let in. He found Tony on his balcony, sitting on a low deck chair, with a small table in front of him of chess.

“Bruce just beat me. Again,” Tony said in a sad tone, pouting slightly, as he looked up to Steve in his sunglasses.
“Want another game?” Steve asked.
“Uh, yea – ok,” Tony grimaced into what could be said a smile, and Steve sat down cross-legged opposite him, enjoying the nice feel of the sun as Tony rearranged the chess board.

--

“I gotta say, this has made me feel better,” Tony said smugly, two chess rounds later.
“Hey.”
“Honestly, though, not a bad game, Cap. I’m impressed.”
Steve suddenly felt warmer, brighter, even though the sun had gone in.

Chapter Text

Tony noticed that his therapist was very thorough. Well, he paid for it. Someone who didn’t have other priorities. Could do long appointment sessions. Who knew selected information. And of course, had accreditation from his personal doctor, Michaels, who referred her. He liked to call her Sandy, never mind what her real name was.

“I think it would be good for you to see what other people do to cope. How other people feel. It might give you perspective. Validity. A bit of a weight off your shoulder. Did you look at any of the online forums?”

“Yea, a bit,” Tony replied absentmindedly.

“Ok…” she looked at him searchingly, “let me just get them up for you.”

Tony looks to her as she was on her tablet, then handed it over to Tony.

There was an array of stories and experiences by people. Scrolling down, he saw she was right. Everyone who experienced trauma of a similar kind have the same kind of feelings, but everyone behaves differently and finds different things that do or don’t help them. There are different outlooks. Several of suicidal anonymous’ which have plenty of supporting messages on the thread, but proper discussions about it as well. About how people don’t understand. The frustration. The bitter anger. The low self-worth. Feeling it’s not worth it.

His therapist showed him several stories of people dealing with different things. One person talks about how people didn’t believe him when he confessed that he was kidnapped and tortured, humiliated. It just ‘doesn’t happen’ to normal people. Tony huffed at that. People had an easy enough time believing him, what with it being on every news channel in the world that he probably had PTSD after Afghanistan and all. Does not mean the media was kind about it. He mostly pushed it out, but it made him feel a little bitter too. Could never really trust anyone.

He supposed he saw the point of the activity. Feeling he was less alone. She talked about how his feelings were normal, and that his feelings could never not be normal, because they’re his own, even if some are irrational, which is common.

Some part of him wasn’t really listening, her voice was kind of soothing to his ears though as he sifted through the foggy haze of his mind. It was full of maybes, and tiredness, and resignation.

“Tony, you’re being uncharacteristically quiet.”

“Is it really that much of a surprise that I don’t actually talk all the time? I mean, most of the time. Not all the time…”

“Yes, I understand. People have expectations of you. It must be pressurising.”

“I try to ignore it.” He smirked a bit.

“It may help…to get things off your chest. There are no expectations here, though. I want you to know that. I want to help combat your negative thought patterns, in order for you to gain more control in your life. I know it will take time. But it gets better.”

Tony listened to her, and swallowed.

“Uh, yea, you know I think I’d prefer to – to skip the talking thing. How about we do that negative thought exercise you were going on about.”

“Yea?”

“Yea, why not. Sounds fun.”

—

Does he overthink? Probably.

Does he always reach the worst conclusion? Mostly.

Does he catastrophise? Hell yes.

Does he ‘mind-read’? Yep, yeppety yep.

She said she wanted to help combat these thoughts. It was a nice idea. In theory. He just didn’t know if he could take the next breath, never mind changing his whole thought pattern which took months of therapy.

Everything was low. He was tired. He didn’t want this, he felt emotional, and then he felt nothing at all.

And then there was Cap. Oh, no – Steve, as he insisted.

Who showed him his detailed drawings with a bashful, hopeful smile. Tony couldn’t help but turn up a lip. They were great drawings, it would sell impressively at a charity auction. Why was that his first thought? But it wasn’t really. His first thought was that this is just a young man trying to achieve something, doing something he loves. And the first person he went to was Tony. And ok, he wasn’t that young. He had certainly been through the mill.

One of them was of when he caught him and Natasha talking, and just thought it was a good angle. He had to say, Steve did a great job on both of them, and the colours were magnificent, accentuating the orange sunset and the green trees around them, filling in their personal details very accurately as well. Tony felt a bit self-conscious in being drew of. His sad smile only made Steve more down. Now he was pulling down those around him. Great.

“No, I mean, this is quality work, seriously, Rogers, it’s – it’s amazing. Honestly. I don’t know what else to say – I just didn’t expect it...”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve smiled back, looking at him a strange way, but nice. His blue eyes were all soft and smiley.

Tony could tell something was on his mind, and while he couldn’t really be bothered, he reluctantly asked, “Something up, C-Steve?”

Steve looked at him, looked down and grimaced. “No, not much, just…”

Tony waited, as Steve fidgeted with the drawing in his hand.
“Just…?” Tony prompted.

“I still…find it hard adjusting. Sometimes,” Steve admitted. Tony took a deep breath, and nodded.
“Yea, that’s perfectly natural, Steve, ok? You don’t have to feel like you have to fit in 100% with – well, this century. Anything you need my help with?” Tony doubted it.

“Oh, yea – that would be great, actually. There’s quite a few things.”

“Right. Better get started then.”

—

“I’m…Going on holiday.”

“WHAT?” Steve asked, jumping out of his seat.

“Gee, calm down cowboy,” Tony said back, “I thought that it’d be good to, you know, get away for a while. Beach, boating, little quaint towns, you know? I have a really nice villa, a call-in maid and chef, it’s in a really nice area, there’s a beach…”
“Can I come?” Bruce says, looking up.

“Yea, sure.”

“Oh – er – do-does that mean we can – er, or I can-”

“Yes, Captain, you can come too, don’t wanna be missing out on the action,” Tony said somewhat bitterly, “Be nice for us all to get away for a bit, wouldn’t it.”
“Y-yes, it would. Thank you, Tony, this is…”
“Well, I didn’t really do it for you, you know, Cap. You guys can tag along, sure. It was really my therapist’s idea. Now, let’s see…Happy’s coming, you two…Natasha?”

“Maybe.”

“Good, I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Hey, do I get an invite-?” Clint asks.

“No. Now, Pepper’s meeting me there for a day to catch up on business stuff. But apart from that, I have a free schedule.”
“Where is it that we’re going..?” Bruce asks.

“Oh, right. Virgin Islands, got a nice little place.”

“Nice,” Clint comments, nodding his head. Tony purses his lips.

--

It was a few days later, and they left, boarding the private plane. It was mostly a quiet journey, Tony took the few hours mostly in a private room where he attempted to get some sleep.

It didn’t take long to settle in. Bruce and Natasha took a room on one side of the villa – which was really not so little – so it made sense for Tony and Steve to take rooms in the opposite wing.

The walls were supposedly – mostly – soundproof. Steve couldn’t sleep even the first night, where he went downstairs and out to their small beach in the moonlight for a while. It was beautiful. And when he came back in, and walked to his room, he heard Tony cry out, presumably from a nightmare. Steve hesitated outside his door. He wanted to help, he hated the thought of Tony suffering alone, and his heart ached in empathy. He knocked lightly on the door.

“Tony?”

Steve doesn’t hear anything for a beat.

“Yea, I’m fine,” Tony called out. But Steve couldn’t help remember the last time he was here, in a similar situation, and Tony was certainly not okay. But he didn’t want to intrude. So, he sat down heavily on the floor, leaning against the wall, in case Tony had another nightmare.

He listened carefully; the only sounds being the crickets, and then he heard sniffles. He decided to stay there for a while.

—

The next day, Steve found himself sitting on the beach, drowning in the memories of the war, of what it was like, with bloodied bodies on the beaches, scratching itches as they looked on at the guts floating in the dark waves next to them in the boats. Suddenly he was pulled out of his reverie as Natasha startled him, and flinched, and wiped at his eyes, surprised.

“Sorry,” Natasha said, eyebrows pulled together, her hair blowing slightly in the wind. She looked wary. Steve realised he was tense.

“No, it’s fine, it’s just…God, I’ve never seen a beach without…” his voice was far away. “It’s so peaceful. Not like it was before.”

Natasha just stayed quiet, sitting down next to him.

—

Bruce was trying to tell Tony that he could not get the boat out on his own.

“I don’t need anyone else’s help, Brucie.”

“I have to say I agree, boss,” Happy said, appearing in the garage doorway, and Tony sighed. “Otherwise you’re gonna re-break something.”

Bruce stalked off, and Tony got down, wincing at his arm.

“What? I didn’t re-break my arm. Maybe a few painkillers?”

Without looking away, Happy pulled out a caplet from his pocket. What a lifesaver that man was.

—

“Steve,” Bruce called, trotting in the sand towards them, and they looked up, arms shielding them in the sunlight.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“Tony’s…trying to get his boat out, and, well, failing at it, and he could get himself hurt…” But Steve was already getting up, “Wanna help?”
“Yea, sure,” Steve said easily, as he brushed the sand off his shorts and smiled faintly at him.

“Tony’s too proud, you know what he’s like.”
“Yep…”

It wasn’t too difficult to lift the boat off its hinges and drag it along the beach, even without help. Tony was complaining a small amount about not really needing any help, but he looked happy soon enough as he put his sunglasses on and clamoured in the boat. He was exploring it, making sure everything was in its place and still working. He hadn’t been down here at the beach in a while, after all.

It was only an hour later, when Tony had got the boat up and running, when he was getting in the boat by himself, about to ride off in it.

“Tony, wait,” Steve called, jogging up to him. Bruce and Natasha had gone into town. “You sure you wanna go alone?”

“Yea, I know what I’m doing, Steve,” Tony bit back, “Besides, Happy will probably find a jet ski or something if I’m in any kind of trouble, and I would love to see that,” he smirked, and then went under the small roof of the boat to start the engine up, as he slowly pulled away from the shore. Steve probably would have liked to gone with him.

Tony found a nice secluded bay – not big beaches, but just nice hills around him, quiet, and the water was just the nice side of lukewarm when he tested his fingers in it. There was a light breeze, and he felt so much freer in this place. Like he had no responsibilities. Not that he wouldn’t want that. But he’d been feeling less of it lately. He sat back down on the seat on his boat, and pulled at his light t-shirt. He probably wouldn’t be stripping down to his shorts on the beach anytime soon, but that was okay.

--

Steve got a little worried when Bruce and Natasha came back, and Bruce was saying that Tony shouldn’t be left alone right now.
“It’s not a massive deal, I just,” Bruce said, a little awkwardly, “I just think we should keep a small eye on him, I mean, I know what’s it like to – to just not to talk to anyone and pretend things are fine and – they’re not.”

Steve stood there and stared into space.

“Ok. Ok, no, yea, I’ll keep an eye on him. Do things. Fun things.”

“No, Steve that’s not really necessary…” Bruce said, wincing.

“Well, I have to help in some way. So, I will.” He walked off.

“Great,” Bruce sighed, and Natasha put her arm on his shoulder.

--

No, he’s not backing out of it anymore, he just wants to be sure before he commits to the decision. Cause, you know. It’s you know, a big decision to make, really, he tells himself. But then he thinks, looking over the waves of the water and the beautiful way the sun beams on it, that he just doesn’t want to live. Anymore. So, the alternative is death.

Initially, it’s the scariest thing he can imagine. In new York, and several other times, he thought it was a possibility, and then afterwards just came up with new ways to protect himself while still being able to do his job and save people when need be, to do some good. So, thinking about killing himself is pretty hard. It’s like the opposite meaning of life. Shit, how did he end up thinking about philosophy? No. no.

But, it doesn’t change the fact that it would be easier if he would just die, so he didn’t have to actively kill himself. Again, this seems difficult. He feels pain. Deep inside him, in his heart – he’s even thinking he has a soul, only because it hurts so damn much, this pain that he can’t rip out of him this time. The emotions are overwhelming, seemingly made worse by the calm, warm environment of the sea he’s in. He feels like he wants to cry.

“Ha,” he says, “‘Don’t cry. Men don’t cry,’” he mimics, “Pull yourself together, Stark.” He shakes his head. “I think I can cry if I want to. Not hurting anyone, is it?” He turns around, looking for anyone to ‘object’. “No? Good. Because not only am I never not gonna be a fuck up, but also I fuck up. I’ve been fucked over. Hell, now, I’ve been – I-” He takes several deep breaths, “I’ve been fucked. Against my will. There. I said it, huh?” He should feel more satisfied, but it doesn’t really come. “Did they care? No, they didn’t give a shit,” he tells the sea. “These people know it’s wrong – yet they do it anyway? I guess we’ve all done that at some point. But, Jesus. Where does it end? Do I get a reprieve?!” He asks the goddamn sky now, anyone who’s fucking listening. What the fuck does he do now? If he wanted to repair himself, to make amends for what he’s done – how does he do that? Well, he contemplates, he’s been trying that the last month. He even talked to a therapist. That’s a big whoop. His therapist actually congratulates him for it, and it feels…weird, but good. He told Brucie it’s worth a try. This whole life thing. But truth is, not all things work out. And all his energy is just used up now; there doesn’t seem much point anymore.

How would he kill himself? There’s many ways that he thought would be fitting. But he bought a gun with him for a reason.

Some things are just done better, easier and more clean cut – the old fashioned way.

Chapter Text

Steve was waiting a bit anxiously by the time he saw Tony’s boat come around the corner and start heading back to shore, as he let out a breath of relief. Ok, he may be overreacting. He definitely didn’t want to be that type of friend – or person – who seemed like a protective parent instead of, well – a protective friend. Yea, he can’t really escape it. He just didn’t wanna seem controlling. 

Tony rather pointedly avoided him when he got back to the shore, looking so tired and weary. Steve didn’t know what to do. 

-- 

The next day, Tony decided to fuck it. He’s in the sun, it’s warm – so why not do some sunbathing? There was a beautiful little cove with palm trees next to his lounger where he was on the beach. Natasha came wordlessly to join him, wearing a tankini with a thin dress over the top. She said she burns easily.  

Tony felt better since he had Jarvis set up a mini radar on his phone and any other devices he wants, so he would know if anyone was approaching, so he wouldn’t get caught unexpected. He kept flinching, and it was beginning to really annoy him. He’d rather avoid any surprises where he can.   

He had thought Natasha might be here to ‘talk’ to him, maybe she knew his intentions or found the gun, but she was content to either read, swim or sleep on the sunbed. Tony found her company quite relaxing. And it really can be said about appreciating aesthetics. The everlasting turquoise sea was beautiful to look out to. 

Not long later, Jarvis popped up on his radar device, announcing that people were approaching from 20 metres away, and he turned round to see Steve arguing with Clint. For fuck’s sake… 

“You know, I see him in my dreams,” Tony says curtly, as Natasha turns around as well. “Mostly he’s the antagonist. Or just the person really annoying me – like, by poking me with a stick. And then I wake up and realise – oh, it’s not a dream – he’s actually literally poking me with a stick.” 

Natasha sighed and sat on the edge of her lounger. 

“I might have to go,” she says, almost reluctantly, as if she doesn’t want to leave, or feels she has to stay. 

“Yea, of course,” Tony says, “Go save the world or whatever it is you do in the world of espionage. Have fun.” 

Natasha turned to him, and squinted, “You should talk to Steve.” 

Tony frowned at her. 

“He’s worried,” she explained, and Tony turned away, “And, the other day he told me he wants to be a feminist but doesn’t wanna be turned into a woman, and then spent approximately three minutes apologising and trying to tell me how great it was to be a woman.” 

Tony raised his eyebrows. 
“Yea. He looked like he was gonna cry. It wasn’t pretty.” 

“Wouch. Couldn’t you…?” 

“No. I’m going. Teach him the ways of the world, I trust you. I think,” she smiles and gets up, taking her towel with her.  

“I don’t wanna do that!” He says loudly as she walks away, where Clint is walking towards her. Luckily, Tony was wise enough to wear knee length shorts and a t-shirt, not one for showing off the bod lately…But it was enough to top up the tan. If he was going in a casket, he wanted to look damn suave doing it. 

-- 

Non-toxic exhibitionist narcissist tendencies that had been knocked down furiously, with slightly dysfunctional coping mechanisms. One of the things Sandy had said to him while explaining why he was feeling the way he was feeling. Oh, she’s like, a psychiatrist or psychologist as well as a therapist apparently, Tony wasn’t really listening, but boy she knew her stuff. She had explained that he wasn’t a narcissist, but it was a front he had put on over the course of his life to disguise his inner self doubt, etcetera etcetera, and now he was stripped bare and vulnerable and not knowing who to trust.  

Basically, well – she was probably right. But she had reassured him, that whatever his problems, whatever labels or medication ascribed to him, it would get better, and it was always worth the chance to explore deeper into his mentality, now that he was able to open up a bit. 

Talking hadn’t really been the hard part.  

Breathing was, sometimes. 

Trusting and confiding in others, apart from his therapist who he had on good authority had sworn secrecy, was just something he didn’t want to do. A part of him didn’t want to get better. So how could he? 

-- 

Damn super-soldier couldn’t leave him alone. 

Firstly, he broke his fucking bed, and expected Tony to be able to fix it. 

“It – it was just – I’m sorry, I think it was a nightmare and I must have acted out-” Steve was trying to explain while Tony was staring at said bed, in the room of his villa that Steve had been occupying. 

“I’ll get some tools, they’re here somewhere. If me and you can’t fix Ikea, no one can.” 

“I…don’t think it’s from Ikea.” 

Secondly, he wouldn’t let him tinker on his tech by himself when there was a thunderstorm outside. Said it was ‘dangerous’.  

Later on that day, while Bruce was out and Tony really wanted to be left alone, Steve had just pushed his last button. 

“Dammit, Rogers!” Tony huffed angrily, pacing and stopping to stand in the middle of the living room while Rogers stood just the other side of the nice white sofa. Safest bet in an argument between them to have something between them. 

“Now you wanna – what – control me? For my own ‘good’? I don’t get it, is this just a concept of yours-” 

“I just care about you, is that so hard to understand?” 

“WHY?” Tony shouts, and then takes a beat, “Why do you – not anyone else – you, care about me? Not about the world, cause of your great Captain America love your neighbour complex, but ME.” 

“Be-because…” Steve sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“Uh, the truth would be nice,” Tony says indignantly. 

“Ok, well I don’t know, ok? I just do.” Tony sighed, “No, you wanted the answer, ok? I don’t know how to explain why you care about people you care about – you’re my friend Tony, and that’s just what happens!” 

Tony shakes his head, his eyes becoming annoyingly blurry.  

“Not everything is because of an ulterior motive.” 
“Oh, really? So you ‘body-guarding’ me is nothing to do with the fact that you get a kick out of continuing your heroism, huh?” Steve scoffs, but Tony goes on, “Making me stop working and to ‘relax’, heroic deed of the day, completed.” 

“Can you just stop?” 
“What?” 

“Deflecting!” Steve was visibly trying not to get angry. 
“Why?” Tony asks coyly, cocking his head, “What would I be deflecting, Rogers?” 
“It’s Steve, because we’re friends Tony, and we’re on first name basis, to start with.” 
“Oh, sure. ‘Steve’.” 

“Even if some of what you’re saying is true – this ‘complex’ I have,” Steve decided to roll with it, “Is that so bad? Doesn’t everyone do that from time to time? Do some good deed, care about people, so that they can feel better themselves, pat themselves on the back, I dunno, but I got some news for you: that’s what makes the world go around.” 

“Ok, well you’re actually touching on ethical egoism there.” Steve looked confused. “I read a bit about, erm, ethics and philosophy,” Tony said casually, or trying to sound casual, “You know, just light reading, really…But yes, I. Understand. Your point.” 

“Ok…” Steve shrugs and nods, as it seems they’ve at least reached some sort of level ground? “Well, good. Ethics – that’s interesting, yea, erm…Right.” 

Tony took in a deep breath, filling up his lungs, only a slight ache in his healing ribs, before slowly letting it out again, tapping his finger against his thigh.  

“So…” Tony started. He didn’t really know what to say now. Usually the arguing goes on for a lot longer, or the other person just storms away, too fed up. 

“You…care. Yep. I get that. We’re…friends.” 

“Yes,” Steve nods. 

“Ok. It’s just, it seems more than that, you know, you’re spending a lot of time around me and..” 

“I’m worried about you,” Steve says. 

“Oh.” Tony nods, looking around the room. Yep, understandable. Right. Ulterior motives. 

“So you don’t like….like me.” 
“What? Who told you that?” 
“I mean, no one, I was just – I just thought – but if it’s true, hey-” 

“Hang on, what kind of ‘like’ are we talking about?” Steve asks. His head is going in circles. 

“I don’t know,” Tony answers honestly, and looks at him. 

“Of course I like you,” he says, obviously. 

“Right. I too, like you, as a person,” Tony clarifies, and nods. God, end it now. 

“Tony, caring about you is not expecting anything in return,” Steve says, his voice…sounding strangely soft, “Yes, it’s maybe something to do with human nature feeling good about making connections with other people, caring about them, but I don’t expect anything. I just want you to be okay. Cause I know you’re in a shitty place right now. I know. And I don’t wanna lose you.” His voice cracked a bit at the end, as if he was going to cry. Tony looked at him, and his face seemed concerned, and emotional. 

Tony started, “Why…” 
“Tony, you’re self-destructive,” Steve says bluntly, “You’re in a low, low place. The actions you’re displaying, like those cuts on your arms, show that you don’t care much about yourself at this point. So, I want to care as much for the both of us.” 

“Ok…” Tony says suspiciously, “…I think that’s a bit too much caring. If I’m honest. You might break.” 

Steve manages a small smile. “I think I can handle it.” 
“So…does this mean you’re cooking me dinner?” 
“While you sit down and work on your therapist’s notes that you said she had for you?” Steve compromised. 

“Ughh!” Tony moaned, “I can’t believe you’re making me do work. That, I consider work. You really are like a mean old teacher.” 

“No I’m not!” Steve protested. 

“Are too.” 

“Am not.” 
“Ok, this is just going to get weird, so – get on with your cooking, or whatever,” Tony gestured.  

“Ok. Tony?” 

“Yep.” 

“Can I ask you about feminism?” 

-- 

“So, in conclusion,” Tony said, putting down his wine on the table, “The world is still shitty, but at least now everyone knows more about its shittiness, so people are more aware and are trying to do something about it.” 

Steve nods, showing he understands, or at least mostly, and continues eating his cheesecake. It was really good. And shop-bought. Oh well. Everything’s so easy just to buy these days, without need for preparation.  

“So, how are your suits and stuff coming along?” He asks, always so eloquently.  

“Ooh, watch this,” Tony puts down his fork and shows his watch. He double taps it, and the watch folds out, and then grows, the metallic red and silver structure fitting around Tony’s hand, and he stretches out to show it. 

“Cool, huh?” 

“I have no idea how that works, but yea,” Steve smiles. It really is amazing. Like a magic trick. In the middle of the metal hand it has a beamer. All in all, very handy in self-defence. 

-- 

Standing on a small hill overlooking the blue ocean, the jungle-like islands and the small quaint town to the side was really spectacular. Tony suddenly felt grateful to be here, to be able to appreciate these things, this beauty. This calmness. He didn’t feel calm very often. But he was in control now. It was his choice. Holding a gun in his hands didn’t feel dangerous – it was more soothing, because he could control what was going to happen – no one else gets to decide for him. He scoffs. Wow. He has issues. 

He bites his lip and walks around a bit, his sandals scraping across the grass. It’s really warm and Tony decides his heart hurts a little too much. It’s got physical scars, sure – his heart, being intact, is in itself a miracle – but it’s the ones you can’t see that hurt the most, for some reason. 

He had a video call with Pepper yesterday, and it was nice just to see her. Things were still a little off between them, but she expressed her worry at hearing that Tony was injured from a mission and Tony reassured her. They talked a little business, and in general, they’re in a better place now. He was actually surprised, but glad it had gone so well. Made things easier to move on. 

He could throw this gun into the sea. Probably wanna walk to wear the sea was deeper against the cliffs, though. Actually, that could harm wildlife. And what if someone found it? Hmm.  

No, it was definitely more the meaning of it. It would mean he’s fed up of feeling like this, ready to take the hard road and try and find some meaning to life. That seems pretty hard though.  

“Tony?”  

Oh shit. 

Tony slowly stood up from where he was sitting on the ground, overlooking the sea and in the shade of a lovely tree. 

“Hey, Cap,” Tony said in a friendly way, then realised he was waving his hand around a bit. With. A gun. Which Steve saw. Which. Wasn’t. Good. 

“So...” Tony said awkwardly, “Whatcha doin?” 

“Tony,” Steve said seriously, eyeing the gun and looking searchingly in Tony's face, his palms already stretching in a seemingly anxious way, like he was tense and ready to snatch at any time.  

“Tony, please,” he said desperately, swallowing, “I thought-” 

“Steve, look, calm down,” Tony reassures him, “It’s not – I'm fine!” Which totally sounded true. Mm-hm. Convincing. “Look, this is just a gun I happen to have, and it’s, y’know, an American’s right so... You know, normal civilians don’t get fancy weapons, do they? Huh.” 

Steve frowned. “I don’t underst- I think you’re deflecting again.” 

“Maybe.” 

Steve took a step closer, and Tony tensed, his hand tightening around his gun without realising it. 

Steve took a deep breath, “You realise I’m not going to let you – kill yourself. Right?” 
Tony breathed. A little. 

“I fail to see how that is your choice to make. Steve.” 

“You’re taking away all your choices,” he responded breathlessly, “You can’t - you can’t.” 

“Why not?” 
“Because I can’t-” 

“Oh, so this is about you.” 

“I can’t do it without you,” Steve admitted, his blue doe-eyes woefully worried. “No one can. We need you. I do. And -” Tony was about to interrupt, but he wouldn’t have it, “It’s not just that we need you, we want you around, how can you not see that? I want you.” 

Well, that wasn’t exactly the way he thought Steve’s inspiring speech was going.    

“Really?” Tony said a little incredulously, “No, ‘it will get better’ or, or ‘this is just a blip, you’ll feel better tomorrow’, ‘you are not what they did to you’ bullcrap?” 

Steve’s heart was beating hard in his chest, which meant adrenaline, which meant he could grab the gun in time before Tony could use it – but he didn’t want to have to force it. He didn’t want to wrestle him to the ground or anything. But he would. 

“You just fucking want me. Got a crush, Rogers?” 
“Maybe. I dunno,” he said quickly before he could regret it. 

Tony was taken aback, and stuttered backwards a few steps.  

“Ok, firstly, I didn’t come out here to off myself, I came to make a decision, and now you’re fucking with my head, okay? Seriously, Rogers?”  

“I - I can’t help it, th-the way I feel, Tony,” Steve tried to explain. 

“Yes, you can,” Tony said frustratedly. 

“I just want you to be okay. I don’t care about anything else, you have to believe me.” 

“Steve, I thought...you were my friend.” 

“I am! I just – I didn’t wanna hurt you, I never want to do that, I knew you probably felt differently but I wouldn’t have said anything and...” 

“Steve, calm down.” 

“Ok,” Steve said, breathing a bit more easily. 

A few tense moments of silence.      

“You know, I think I've been having an existential crisis lately,” Steve said, looking into the distance, “Like, thinking about my purpose now, and what I want, and I realise that you are a big part of that,” he looked towards Tony, “That I have a team, that I can help people again – it's made me feel more like a home, and even though it might not fill the hole inside me-” he points to his gut to make a point, “-of everyone that I left behind, that life - I can’t go back. I can’t change it. This is my life now, and I realised I need to make the most of it, to find meaning and to find love maybe, to be apart of something, not grieving over what could have been.” 

Tony looks at his hands and clenches his jaw.  

“You know,” Tony says after a while, taking in a deep breath, and motioning to the sea, “I would throw this gun in the ocean, but I’m worried it would upset the wildlife. Environment-friendly and all.” He swallowed. Steve nodded and blinked a few times, and took a few steps forward, into the shade of the tree. He held out his hand and Tony looked down, switching it in his hands. The only sounds that could be heard was his quiet breathing and the birds in the trees. 

“I’m trusting you with this,” he says tiredly. 
“I know.” 

Tony looks at him and decides, what the hell. It’s worth a chance to trust someone. Even if they let you down, he doesn’t exactly have much to lose at this point. Steve’s dark blonde hair flutters in the wind and his tank top looks ridiculously tight on him. But he’s here. And neither of them is perfect and they were both wrong to make judgements of each other so quick. 

Tony slowly, almost regretfully, hands Steve the gun, and turns to face the sea.  

Steve feels the weight of the gun in his hand, and deliberately begins to crush the nozzle and the middle of it with his hands. He walks next to Tony, who he realises is a bit smaller than he had thought. He thrusts the gun high and sees it travelling through the air, as Tony concentrates his gauntlet to target the flying object and fires, splitting the gun into pieces of fire and ash, and the bits fall into the water to fade away. 

Tony sits down heavily on the patchy grass ground helplessly. Steve carefully sits beside him. 

“You did good,” Steve says, and he means it. 

Tony shakes his head. “I don’t know...” 

Steve puts a light hand on his shoulder and rubs it with his thumb. “Yes you did. You did so good,” he says almost breathlessly, proud of him beyond belief to be able to make this decision. To live. His adrenaline dies down as he clasps his hands together, the fear less prominent, but still there, beneath the surface. 

Tony lets out a breath he was holding and puts his elbows on his knees to rest them for a while. 

“I might not do so good in future,” Tony says. 

“I’ll be here,” Steve says matter-of-factly, nodding absentmindedly. 

Tony nods, oddly reassured by the promise that was easily made, the realisation that Steve’s not going to leave, nor ask for anything in return. He’s pretty sure of that, for some reason.  

Chapter Text

Steve was scared. No matter what, he just kept thinking – what if.

He was worried. Panicked, sometimes. He woke up suddenly several nights from a dream that Tony had done it, he’d killed himself, he was holding him dead, unseeing and bleeding in his arms, and he hadn’t been able to stop it. It filled him so completely with dread, and he was grateful to Jarvis for reassuring him that Tony was alive and safe in the tower. Though he still worried about what Tony was doing, what was going through his mind, whether he really was getting better – or getting worse, without anyone knowing it.

Steve had a semi-steady job. The Avengers HQ is where he normally works or trains when he’s not on a mission, and he usually stays at the tower, which is pretty much now his permanent place of residence, preparing missions, reading or also training. He works and sometimes socialises with other agents or employees, goes out occasionally with Sam but not that often because he doesn’t any longer enjoy those kind of ‘normal’ social outings. But he has those he can trust. He’s getting used to life in this century. Even though it still hurts, all of what he's lost, and the challenges of this new life.

--

Steve liked him?
OK, it had been a while since that revelation, but still – how did that happen? It made him more questioning than anything. He couldn’t well kill himself while there was still a mystery such as that playing over in his mind. Honestly.  

Sometimes he wondered where he got his morbid sense of humour from.

--

“Tony?” Steve saw him on his way out, “Where are you going?”
Tony looked around, not really wanting to be bothered by Steve at the minute, and then turned to him.

“Hospital,” he said simply. Steve’s face blanched and turned to concern, but before he could ask, Tony explained, “Just a check-up, don’t worry.”
“Oh,” Steve nodded, “Want me to come with you?”

“Er…” Tony stuttered, then Rhodey came from behind him and said they needed to go, “No, I er – Rhodey’s taking me, it’s fine, Cap.”

And then they went.

--

“Sandy!” Steve finally matched to catch her, Tony’s therapist, as she turned around as she was on her way out of the lobby.

“Mr Rogers?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, “I was hoping to have a word.”

She frowned. “What about?”
“Well, it’s – it’s about Tony. I know you’ve been seeing him, helping him, and I just thought…”

“I…can’t discuss my patient’s details, Mr Rogers,” she said.

“Oh, er, I know. Can we talk for a second?” Steve gestured to a sitting area. Sandy checked her watch while holding her bag and nodded at him. He smiled gratefully and took her over to a quieter area. Not that there were many people around.

“I know you can’t really talk about Tony – I only know you’re his therapist cause he told us so,” Steve explained, and Sandy nodded, “Your name is Sandy, right?”

“Well, Sandra,” she said, “But Tony decided to call me Sandy. I don’t mind, Mr Rogers.”

“Of course, oh – please, call me Steve.” Sandy smiled at him, and sat down, and he sat down next to her.

“I er – I don’t know whether you had an appointment with him today – I’m-” Steve didn’t really know what to say. Only that something needed to be said. “I don’t know quite what to say. Except – you know we went on that holiday recently?”

“Yes, I’m aware Tony invited you all to come along,” Sandy said, and thought about what to say next, about what Tony had told the others about their meetings, “And yes, I visit Tony weekly, but I occasionally have other business in the Tower, so that may be why you see me about.”

“Right, well - look, it’s a difficult topic to discuss, Miss – Sandy, but if Tony has not told you already, he is not in a good place right now. And not just that, but he’s a danger to himself, and though I don’t wanna break his trust, he didn’t tell me not to tell anyone, so…”

Sandy breathed in heavily and nodded, like this information was interesting coming from him, but she wasn’t necessarily surprised.

“With the other Avengers, some of them…know of his situation anyhow, and we keep things pretty tight-knit, so I only told one other person, who I trust, to keep an eye on Tony, because I’m worried about him. I’m really worried. And – I don’t know what to do.”

“Ok, Steve,” Sandy levelled with him, and looked him firmly in the eye, “I can’t discuss much of this with you, I’m afraid. You are of course, in your rights to tell me, in fact it’s encouraged to tell me of the dangers posed to my patients, especially since you are one of the contacts Tony has down.”

Steve considered this for a moment. Tony had Rhodey, Happy, Pepper…and he supposed if there was no one else, the Avengers were the next closest thing they had, and besides, those three didn’t know the truth of what had happened.
“Oh. Right.”

“Thank you for telling me, Steve, though I believe I already know of what you’re talking about. Sanctioning is something Tony is vehemently opposed to, but if it comes to it-”

“Wait, you mean like, sanctioning him in a mental hospital?”
“Yes, Steve, I do have the power to do that and it is a possibility if it means keeping my patient safe. But I have faith in his…support team.”
Support team?

“That’s you, Steve, and your other superhero-friends,” she said amusedly, “I shouldn't really be saying this, but... He trusts you. Don’t break that trust. He’s safest with you, and in good company,” Sandy smiled at him, then stood up to leave. “Here’s my number. It’s for emergencies only.”

“Oh – thank you,” Steve looked down at the business card given to him.

“And if you would tell him of our meeting today, I would be most grateful,” Sandy told him.

“Oh – really?”

“Yes, it’s imperative to patient confidentiality. He’s in his rights to fire me after this. But I hope he doesn’t.” Sandy turned to leave.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t, Miss Sandy. See you later.”

“Bye, Steve.”

He felt slightly better about everything.

A few days later, after keeping a not-so-subtle eye on Tony, he noticed he wasn’t eating much. Steve made sure he usually ate with them in the evenings, or whoever was around, but if he talked much, then it was only to disguise that he wasn’t eating that much. He looked tired.

When he was in the communal kitchen with him, he asked him about how the check-up went.
“Oh, you know. Fine,” Tony said flippantly.

“Are you sure?” Steve pressed.

“Yes, Mom, I’m sure,” Tony said sardonically raising his eyebrows at him as he crossed his chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter. Steve sighed.

“I only want you to-”

“Be happy, healthy, safe, the whole nine yards, yea, I get it.”
“I don’t mean to be like a mom.”

“I know,” Tony looked at him condescendingly, “Doesn’t mean you aren’t. You do a great job at being the team mom.”

“Really...” Steve stopped what he was doing and considered this. Tony smirked, and went back to tidying up.

“Oh, erm, Tony, I saw your therapist today.”

Tony stood up and looked at him, expectantly.

“And…”

“I – I was just worried about you – and – and – I didn’t say much but-” No, he didn’t have to defend it. He was right. “Well, I’m not sorry, actually-”

“She already messaged me. It’s fine, Cap,” Tony said tiredly, and went to do some drying up.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Something’s…bothering you. Look, I didn’t mean to go behind your back, though I know it might look that way.”

“I’d expected you to do it sooner, to be honest. Don’t sweat about it,” Tony muttered.

Steve waited.

Tony put something away in the cupboard and met Steve’s knowing look and sighed.

“I – I’m still confused. When did-” Tony looked for the right way to phrase it.

Tony didn’t look flustered, or embarrassed often, but he did now, and it worried Steve a moment.

“When did – why – why me? Why do you like me? And when? And how? And in what form?” Tony said, trying to comprehend anything about the situation.

“Oh…” Steve was the one embarrassed now, as he looked away and scratched his neck. He could feel his cheeks getting warm. No, he had to remain steadfast in this.

“You know when we were on that mission in Ireland, and we were fighting a lot,” Steve began. Tony looked back and remembered, nodding.
“How could I forget,” he said dryly. Their arguing, shouting and pushing about what the right thing to do was, caused a lot of problems on that mission, and the whole team had been pretty fed up by the end of it.

“I got so frustrated with you. From the first time we met in Berlin, and every mission after it seemed, I  was trying to comprehend – well, you, for starters, but also why you made me so mad. I think you reminded me of me.”
Tony raised one eyebrow comically.
“Well, that’s enlightening.”

“I know,” Steve said uncomfortably, and he moved to sit down on a bar stool around the side of the counter. “Tony, I’ve genuinely always considered you a good friend, as well as the other Avengers and people I’ve worked alongside, even if it may not seem it. I know I can be bull-headed at times… And, honestly, out of everyone – you’re the most potent link to my past. You remind me of Howard. And, yes, I know what you’re gonna say, he made you resent me, he never won any father-of-the-year awards, I know. And I – I wanted to protect you - not because of that, but because of you. You’re so reckless, it makes me angry sometimes. And getting to know you, the real you, made me realise – that I really like you. You could be my best friend, if you were open to it, though I knew you – well, you resented me,” Steve said sadly, looking down. He knew Tony was looking at him, listening pensively.

“And then after – after the whole – after you were attacked, it was like I found a new anger. An anger of not protecting you, of not being there enough like I could have been. And I know, you can protect yourself, but…I didn’t wanna lose you. I wanted to get to know you properly, but now this terrible thing happened, and suddenly you were – well, suicidal, and I, well I thought I could have done more before to be a friend to you. I realised maybe I thought of you as something more than a friend, differently to everyone else, and that I wanted you to be my partner in the way it wouldn’t be right back in my day – but I knew you wouldn’t want that. I think I resented that a bit. I've been angry at what happened, and mad at myself, and at everything, and pushing my other feelings aside. I’m sorry, I know this must be confusing for you, to say the least. But Tony, I honestly don’t know what I would do without you. And these feelings for you that I realised I had, they scared me – until I realised what they meant.”

“…That you’re probably gay and have internalised homophobia?” Tony questioned.

“Tony!”

“Ok, ok, that’s just the gist I was getting…”

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyebrow.

“Well, you're probably not too far off, but I am working on it. I am sorry, Tony. About all of this.”
Tony looked at him, somewhat kindly.

“You don’t have to apologise, at least, for trying to figure yourself out. Besides, you’re still here.”

Steve nodded. “And I ain’t going anywhere anytime soon.”
“Even if I want you to?”

Steve frowned at him. “Do you?”
“Nah, I was just kidding, but I wanted to know what your answer would be.”
“I don't like to feel I've made you uncomfortable, please tell me if I do. But I want to make sure you’re okay. That you get through this. I want to be there for you if I can.”
Tony nodded, and scrunched up his lips, looking down.

“You can,” he said quietly. “Hey, can I try something?”

Steve furrowed his brows, “What?”
“My therapist says I need to step out of my comfort zone a bit. Doing this step-by-step therapy that involves, uh, you know, physical touch bla-bla-bla. Whaddya think, wanna – hug it out?” Tony asked uncertainly, and stepped round the counter to open his hands out for a hug. Steve smiled, and went straight into Tony’s arms, squeezing his arms around his waist gently.

“Aw, I knew you were a softie at heart,” Tony said, and laughed a bit to break the tension, as he patted Steve on the back.

“Are things gonna be weird between us now?” Steve asked worriedly.

“Maybe.”
Steve let that sink in a bit.

Tony slowly let go from the hug and looked at Steve.

“I – I was worried, initially, because – erm – the – my lovely attackers, they said an offhand comment about you – probably just to taunt me…” Tony said, “I just, I had hoped it wasn’t true – not that you were gay or anything, oh my god, no, I'm not - it was just – they were being creepy about it, I was stressed out and I didn’t want to think about you and-”

“Tony, I get it, you don't have to explain. You know I’d never hurt you,” Steve said solemnly, gritting his jaw.

“I know, because you’re a very decent person,” Tony said, patting Steve’s arm, “I just – I don’t how to admit that I…Oh God. I kinda…maybe…had a, er, experimental period in my life where I had a crush on you.”
“What?” Steve was flabbergasted.

“Now, I was eighteen, and it was a very, very weird time in my life psychologically and sexually, experimentally lets say, but I kinda had a love-hate relationship at the mention of ‘Captain America’ and a mainly ‘hate’ relationship with my father, so I rebelled in every way possible.”

“Oh.”
“I know.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment.

“I think I need whiskey,” Steve said finally.

“I’m on it,” Tony said and made a dash for his special cupboard, “And I’ll have yours because they don’t have an effect on you.”
“No, I’ll definitely be needing mine. And probably yours as well.”

“As much as I would love to see you drunk, I don’t think the experimental levels of alcohol I could brew up in my lab would be good for anyone’s health.”

“Hey, what’re you guys talking about?” Barton said as he strolled into the room, signalling a shot for himself as well.

“Absolutely noth-”

“None of your goddammed business," Tony said, cutting Steve off and looking dead at Barton.

“Ok, then, the usual,” Clint said sarcastically, shaking his head, “You know you two are both really weird, right? You’re even more weird when you’re together.”

“That’s the idea,” Tony said, pouring their drinks.

“Now, Clint, what do you think of that hiking trip I was telling Hill about?” Steve turned towards him.

“Sounds game. I’m in.”

Tony choked at the word ‘hiking’.

“Excuse-you, say what now?”

As it turns out, the Avengers were going on a camping trip. That was sure to go well.