What Are you doing Stark?!” Steve practically screamed through the comms.
“Drawing them out.”
“They want to shoot you, dumbass!!”
“Who doesn’t at this point… Anyways I have to go on stage cant talk anymore capsicle! F.R.I.D.A.Y shut off comms” Iron Man landed on the stage.
“Oh Hi!”
The crowd screamed in joy.
Of course they are excited. They only see me as the arrogant hero. None of them knows that the man behind the armor came here to die tonight.
“Is that the best you've got? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were cheering for anyone but me!!” God that sounded so arrogant
The crowd screamed even louder.
It's what the people want. The Genius, Billionaire, Playboy Philanthropist Tony Stark. They want Iron Man, Tony Stark. Never just Tony Stark.
What the people want, the people get.
“That's more like it!!” A mechanism on the floor began to pull the Iron Man armor off. As soon as the chest piece was off a crack off a gun sounded.
Tony breathed a sigh of relief.
But death never came.
Instead the sound of steel hitting vibranium resounded.
With that Tony put the armor back on and flew off. Heading back to the tower, to his lab, to work off the flood of emotions.
"What was that Stark?! You nearly got yourself killed!" Steve shouted as he stormed into Tony's lab, "Do you have a death wish?"
Yes! Yes I do! Tony wanted to scream but no one would care. A genius isn't allowed to break. A billionaire isn't allowed to break. Iron man isn't allowed to break. Tony Stark doesn't break. He's just snarky.
"I'm just keeping you on your toes old man."
Steve scoffs, “You're just like your father you know that?”
“Obviously not. I’m better. I have none of his technological limitations. And-“ Tony hesitates nearly letting his trauma slip, “and I am ten times more charming than he ever dreamed.”
“You hesitated.”
“Did not.”
“You did. Plus I can hear your heartbeat speeding up as you lie.”
“Get out of my lab.”
“Why did you hesitate?”
“Leave. Now.”
“Answer the question.”
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Contact Barnes and tell him that his golden retriever got off leash and he needs to collect him!”
“Of course sir.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s robotic voice chirped.
“Firstly, don’t compare me to a dog.” Steve snapped, “Secondly, I can leave on my own.” With that he turned to leave, hesitating at the door before adding, “Whatever you’re keeping trapped in your head is going to kill you one day.”
“It hasn’t yet.” Unfortunately he doesn’t add.
Shortly after Steve leaves Tony brings out his expensive whiskey, half a bottle later and he is very drunk and somehow still miserable.
“Why aren’t you working?” Tony mumbled to the bottle, “You know what? F.R.I.D.A.Y! Play playlist A.C.D.C.”
“Of course sir. Playing Playlist A Clinically Depressed Cutie.”
Immediately Taylor Swift’s I Can Do It With A Broken Heart starts playing and in what is widely regarded as the worst case of drunken karaoke Tony starts singing.
I can read your mind
She's having the time of her life
There in her glittering prime
The lights refract sequined stars off her silhouette every night
I can show you lies (one, two, three)
More of the bottle downed.
'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit
They said, baby, gotta fake it 'til you make it and I did
Lights, camera, bitch, smile, even when you wanna die
He said he'd love me all his life
But that life was too short
Breaking down, I hit the floor
He dropped his knees to the ground.
All the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting, "More"
I was grinning like I'm winning, I was hitting my marks
'Cause I can do it with a broken heart (one, two, three)
Tony was dancing on the workbench now. Singing into the bottle.
I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day
I'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague
I cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art
You know you're good when you can even do it
With a broken heart
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Turn off!” A voice shouted.
“Of course Manchurian Candidate.”
“Awwww, the reason I should be in therapy, why’d you turn off T.Swizzle?” Tony slurred gulping more whiskey.
“You need therapy before I murdered your parents. Speaking of therapy, that's what we are doing right now.” Storming over to Tony, Bucky snatched the bottle and shattered it on the floor.
“Hey! That was 6 million dollars you just wasted!”
“You wasted it when you bought the whiskey.”
“I am rich. It's not the Great Depression anymore, Red October.”
“It might not be for the rest of the world but it certainly is for you. Now sit your ass down. This is officially therapy.”
“In case you didn’t know you aren’t my parent. Only their killer. So no. I will not sit down.”
“I could have been, Maria was smoking hot, so was Howard.”
Tony expression changes to one of pure shock and horror,
“Sit. Your. Rich, Little. Ass. Down. or I will start explaining in detail how I flirted with both of your parents.”
Tony promptly sat.
“Good. Now talk.”
Tony flipped him off.
“Your dads a-”
“Howard didn’t care about me because I wasn't Steve or a piece of tech.”
“Now we're getting somewhere. Keep going.”
“Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. I mean obviously because how could my scrawny 5’9 ass compare to the living legend Steve Rogers?!”
Bucky simply nods.
“Don’t even get me started on how the world sees me! They only care about the Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist, Iron Man. They couldn;t give two shits about Tony Stark. The kid who just wanted his dad to be proud of him.”
Bucky tries to speak, “How-”
“Before you ask I am not suicidal.”
“I wasn-”
“I would never kill myself. I simply won’t try and stop it if someone else tries to kill me.”
“That’s suicidal ideation, Stark.”
“No it's not. It’s only suicidal ideation if I want to be the one killing me. It’s murder and martyrdom if someone else is the one killing me.”
“The definition of suicidal ideation is wanting to kill yourself. It doesn’t always have to mean through suicide. Plus not stopping yourself from being murdered is assisted suicide.”
“What do you know, murder man?”
“Stop with the nicknames. I have enough guilt without your shitty attempts at humor. As for how I know? I grew up in the great depression. I was tortured and turned into a mindless weapon for 70 years. Trust me when I say I know what suicidal ideation is.”
“Whatever, Popsicle two: Electric Boogaloo.”
“Nope. You are going to listen and you are going to listen well. You. Are. Suicidal.”
“I-”
“Shut up. You need a professional. Not alcohol.”
“I’m fi-”
“Dont fucking lie to me Stark. You literally just admitted to being suicidal. When I came in here you were halfway through a bottle of whiskey and listening to Taylor Swift .”
“She’s a good artist.” Tony mumbled.
“I’m not saying she isn’t, but you were listening to the album that depressed people listen to.”
“Anyone can listen to that album! Also how do you know who Taylor is?”
“The kid introduced me to her.”
“Ah, why do you say that The Tortured Poets Department is for depressed people?”
“It's my favorite album. Now are you going to go to therapy or am I going to have to drag your ass?”
“You do not get to drag me anywhere, From Russia with Love.”
“Dragging your ass it is. F.R.I.D.A.Y.! I need you to set up a therapy appointment for Stark, tomorrow at 10 am!”
“Appointment set, Munchurian Candidate.”
“Now Stark. I’m going to carry you to your bed, you are going to go to sleep, then I will be at your door at 9 am sharp to make sure you are ready to head to therapy. Do I make myself clear?”
“I can take myself to bed, thank you very much.” Tony tried to stand but was far too drunk to hold himself up and immediately tipped forward. Bucky scooped him up in a bridal style.
“Do I weigh nothing to you!?!”
“Yeah. Now don’t you dare complain. I don’t want to hear it. You are going to bed now . You will get up at 9 am sharp. You will go to therapy.”
Rolling his eyes, Tony grumbled “Fine. Mr. Cold Shoulder.”
“It's Sargent Cold Shoulder to you.”
“I pay your salary. You can’t order me around or try to pull rank.”
“You sound like your father.”
“Damn you!”
“Aw does little Stark not like being compared to his daddy?”
“Don’t call Howard, daddy. It's weird.”
“My point stands. Your daddy issues are showing every time you get defensive when someone mentions Howard.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“You are acting like a child. This is further proof you need therapy.”
“I really don’t. I have alcohol, Taylor Swift, and I'm overworking myself.”
“None of those are therapy. In fact every one of those things will make your mental state worse.”
“I doubt it.”
“You know, for a genius, you're an idiot.”
“Rude.”
“Yep. 70 years of torture does that to someone.” They reach Tony’s room, where Bucky opened the door before carrying Tony to his bed and unceremoniously dropped him.
“You can’t drop me! I’m rich!”
“And I don’t give a fuck.” Bucky started to walk out the door.
Tony sat up with a huff.
“If you do not lay your rich ass down and go to sleep I will pin you down.” Bucky said without turning back.
“And how do you plan on that Robo-arm?”
“Like this.” Bucky walked away.
“How is that going to make me lay down jackass?!?”
Minutes later Bucky came back with Steve, who was carrying Mjolnir.
“Do not set that thing on my chest!!”
“Set it on his chest.” Bucky said to Steve.
“Of course.” Steve walked over, pushing Tony back onto his bed with Mjolnir and leaving it there.
“Spangled! Get this off me!!”
“Nope.”
“I will cut your pay.”
“The government owes me sixty-six years of back pay. I don’t need your money.”
“Fuck.”
“Yep.”
“Now sleep, little Stark, we need to be up early tomorrow.” Bucky chimed condescendingly.
Tony flipped him off as his eyelids started drooping.
Bucky and Steve chuckled as they walked out.
“Wait Barnes!”
“Hm?”
“Did you really flirt with my parents?”
“The only time I met Maria is when I killed her.”
“And Howard…?”
“Not my type.”
“Oh thank god.”
Bucky chuckled again. “What? Did I give you more trauma with the mental image of me flirting with your dad?”
“Yes. Yes you did.”
“Good thing you have therapy tomorrow. Sleep tight.”
“Night”