“Dude that mission was so good! I know we’re good but goddamn we’re the fucking best!” Steve rambles on like he has for the last forty minutes straight bouncing in his seat. “Shut the fuck up! Nothing about that was good!” Tony snaps at the blond anxious. “Oh..yeah” Steve looks down kinda just going still, maybe it wasn’t good? Why is he so excited about it? Clearly it’s a dump thing to be excited about, he talks too much. He makes a mental note to not mention anything ever again, he feels uncomfortable and judged.
Tony leans back in his seat picking at his nails, why Steve is so excited about a goddamn alien mission is beyond him, Tony’s still anxious out of his mind. He glances at the blond, he feels bad about snapping at him but he couldn’t help it, it just came out. Should he apologize? He should but it feels awkward to do so now.
Steve is the first one off the quinjet, he goes to his floor blowing off the meeting. He feels more relaxed again when he’s in his own space with no judgements or people in his ears, he’s been learning about modern technology lately, he’s been obsessed with modern music there’s so much of it and so many different styles of it all readily accessible and free! He’s so happy it’s free, why can’t all art forms be free? That makes the most sense to him since it’s meant to be shared with the world. He clicks on his stereo blasting today’s top hits which just happens to be The Weeknd, “I love this song!” He cheers to himself, the music blares through the speakers, Steve looks around his apartment. “Fucking mess in here” he mutters.
Tony’s in the elevator trying to calm the fuck down. Peppers dead.
Your friends are gonna die, you’re gonna get them killed.
They all hate you, fucking loser.
Peppers dead, she’s gonna die you can’t stop it.
Tony squeezes his eyes shut trying so hard to breathe and tell himself rationally that none of it is true but it feels so real. He’s been terrified since he woke up this morning. “Pep?!” He calls getting off the elevator anxiety increasing when she doesn’t answer, “Pepper?!!!” He calls louder, nothing fuck okay Breathe relax, she’s fine! “VIRGINIA!?!” Tony yells walking into the kitchen, nothing no one. He finds a note, not bothering to read it, he calls her instead. “Pep?! Where are you?!” He asks “I’m in a meeting, are you okay?” Tony nods then remembers she can’t see him, “Yeah, yeah I’m okay just uhm, just wanted to hear your voice” he says, “okay, I’ll be home soon Doll” she says having to go “I love you”
“I love you too”
Steve hums the song singing off key while he mops the floor, he’s dusted the lights , baseboards, and shelving units in the apartment. He looks at the book shelf putting the mop down tossing out a bunch of Knickknacks he’s bought in the modern world out. Why does he have so much junk? It’s too cluttered. He spends two hours just going through his stuff clearing it out, he finds a picture of his mama. “I miss you mama, come visit me soon” He smiles wiping a tear before putting the picture down going back to his cleaning and organizing. His phone dings, Steve smiles reading the text from Brock, he’s been hooking up with the cute commander.
Tony shakes and shivers curled up in bed under the covers, he’s not tired but he’s not really up either. He’s scared and sad. His lip wobbles as he cries just trying to calm down, Peppers sleeping next to him, Tony wants to wake her but he doesn’t, she deserves a peaceful sleep. Tony doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, he feels so drained and lonely. His heads been playing every terrible moment that he can remember in his head, over and fucking over again. He sniffles softly, “It’s my fault, I’m sorry mamì” he whispers rubbing his throbbing temples.
“You moving?” Brock asks kissing Steve walking him back towards his bedroom, “wha-? Oh nah” he says looking at the shelf “Just cleaning” he says pulling Brock’s shirt off. Brock pushes him on the bed. Oh yeah Steve’s definitely turned this right around.
Tony watches the sun come up, pretending to be asleep when Pepper wakes up around five in the morning, Tony’s been up for two days now, his insomnia meds not working but they never truly have. He’s sure he’ll cycle again and sleep properly in a few days, maybe. He sighs quietly, he feels a little better today but extremely unmotivated. He cuddles Peppers pillow.
Steve’s eyes snap open the next morning he’s alone, he whimpers eyes watering. Brock left him, he feels like a loser. Why does he always get so attached to people that leave him? It’s gotta be him right? Not just coincidence that they leave because coincidence doesn’t exist it just doesn’t. He looks out at the mess in the living room knowing he should clean but he just can’t get himself out of bed, it takes too much effort to even roll over so he doesn’t have to face it. He feels detached like a soul that’s not present in his own body, he’ll never understand why his good moods leave so unexpectedly, maybe none of its real, maybe he’s not real.
Tony doesn’t know how or when probably sometime between twelve and two he ends up by some miracle falling asleep he hasn’t done anything all day it’s far too hard to even reach over and check on Pepper because his anxiety will never shut up even when his brain is refusing to move it takes too much effort. He’s only slept for a few hours, he wakes up feeling like he slept for ten. He stretches making his bed for the first time in forever, better yet he just tosses all of his bedding into the washer. Then well you can’t do laundry and not clean everything, and cleaning isn’t complete till after you’ve lit a candle or incense and opened a window.
“Hey Pep!” He beams he’s hasn’t thought about anything bad since he woke up, “Hey doll” she says with a smile “What you doing?”
“Cooking duh” Tony says, “I been craving quesadillas, and I know you wanna try that vegan thing so I wents to the store and got everything, it was a lot less expensive than I’d thought it’d be what’s up with over priced stuff anyway it’s literally just made from plants oh,” his eyes go wide flipping another veggie and cheese quesadilla on the stack. “Jarvis make a note to remind of a business plan where people get access to sustainable plant based foods at a reasonable price” he says stirring the refried beans in the pot adding seasoning. Pepper gives a smile, she’s concerned but she guesses this overly happy Tony is better than the depressed one that’s been having around.
Steve hasn’t answered his phone in days nor has he left his bed in that same stretch of time. He can’t bring himself too. Knocks at his door and rings to his phone just make him angry why can’t people just leave him alone! He doesn’t bother them! He’s still not feeling good when he manages to cry his way through his routine and shower, sliding into sweats and a hoodie. If he makes his rounds and looks semi decent then maybe they will believe that the super soldier got sick? He hopes anyway because he doesn’t have the energy to explain why he is.
What he didn’t expect was to walk into an intervention, he didn’t know those were a real thing nor did he suspect that Stark would also be the guest of honor. Steve could figure that, he means Stark is just kinda…nuts. Hell maybe Steve is too. He doesn’t know when it started he was a happy kid despite being sick all the time, maybe around his late teen years? That’s when the fights started, the nights of not sleeping, hell those were the first days that he started climbing Bucky like a tree. If Steve had the energy he’d of smiled at the thought, he was with the widow now.
Steve knew that certain things and people made him irritable, Bucky being one of them in their confined space that made Steve wraps his hands around his friends neck on many occasions. Growling out how he hated him and how everything that went wrong and started an argument was someone else’s fault never Steve’s, he’s not the one that lost his shit over a radio falling off the table or not getting a pay check. He did loose his shit over not being able to find his stuff, or being talked about like he wasn’t in the room. Or not being left alone when he specifically had said “LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” He was too tired and depressed to go to a fucking Dodgers game.
He heard his mom and Bucky talking about it many times over his life till she died. ‘Manic depression’ is what it would be called in the fifties but in the forties he’d be well on his way to a lobotomy. ‘Hysteria?’ ‘He’s not a woman’ Steve could’ve laughed, and maybe he was because he did hear his name being called concernedly from Sam, oh Sam that’s right they’re all here. Sam’s nice but Steve’s not some soldier with shell shock …he might be he doesn’t know don’t they call it something different now?
“Hm?” He’d ask cockily, a faux air of confidence that he wasn’t feeling. There were the magic words everybody “Were concerned about you, Steve, Both of you” He glances at Tony. “I’m okay I’m better now” Stark would say rocking in his seat, eyes scanning the room like a computer downloading information. Yeah like they were all supposed to believe that. Steve could scoff but that would probably start a fight and he wasn’t in the mood. “What’re you concerned about?” He asks with a sigh, he could just zone out that was easy. They went on about something involving Tony and His mental health, ah the fucked brain. He wasn’t listening, hell maybe neither was Stark.
Steve doesn’t remember signing anything or being taken to the hospital or his three day weekend in the looney bin in scrubs so he couldn’t hurt himself, he could easily break the steel chairs if he wanted to, this was pointless for him. He hasn’t seen Stark, he did hear him screaming so maybe they fried his brains or something. Steve’s not exactly feeling jazzy, he misses his boyfriend. They been feeding him a cocktail of pills something to make him feel better but specifically for him because the way his metabolism burns everything. He’s just kinda numb getting released with documentation that said “Steven Grant Rogers, You’re bipolar type two, PTSD”
Hey look Steve’s selling tickets to come see his downfall.
His ears have been ringing, he’s laying on Brock’s lap on the couch he’s been lying about taking the medicine the ward had given him. Brock’s throughout everything morning handing Steve his coffee and three little pills. Steve doesn’t need them anymore he’s feeling better he promises. Brock doesn’t need to know.
Tony’s not a fan of talking about his feelings, they’re his not something that can be exploited and sold if he doesn’t talk about them. He doesn’t trust anyone, and that’s well that might be acute paranoia onset from his diagnosis and hey would ya look at that not even that little stint was private. So here he is with the other crazy one of the group, hey Steve how’s mod stabilizer. See that’s not something someone should think about asking or find funny in their own way. The avengers are all here to talk about their feelings even Peter, he’s been kinda a shitty dad lately, he’s sorry, I’ll try to be better he wants to say but the words just don’t come out.
“Who would like to Start?” Natasha asks, and oh right they’re supposed to be sharing their feelings like it’s group therapy so they don’t feel so alone. Why is this angering? He wonders if Rogers is feeling this irritated by this excursion. He was perfectly fine in his lab. Bucky goes first surprising Tony notes. “Nightmares are back, I keep trying to run from it leave the past in the past but I can’t help being reminded of what I- he had done” He says “I swapped the drinking for boxing if that’s any improvement” They clap after like it’s AA oh Tony remembers NA that was well he was sixteen he feels like this was the least of his problems. Sam nods with a smile, “I too been having nightmares” Banner says “I feel the big guy always scratching at the surface, I think that he hates me I been feeling it lately. Chai and meditation have been helping” he says and oh the vulnerability tickles Tony’s arc reactor. He’ll send Banner a big bag of weed later.
“I uhm, I keep seeing my parents” Peter says “I know I was a baby I couldn’t help them I just the memories I have of them have been tainted by the last one” he says “Flash is still Flash not being as abused this much like I was last year” he says with a smile, It breaks Tony’s heart to the point his eyes water. Why can’t he just say the words and be a better dad? Stupid brain. Sam nods with a “See me later, kid”
“I still think about the circus, it’s stupid but it gives me anxiety anytime I hear the music or see a fair in town. They’re long gone now so why can’t I get over what happened thirty years ago? I mean I ran away to get away” Clint says, “PTSD effects us all in different ways Clint” Sam says, He nods looking down at his hands. Natasha shakes her head, “I’ll see you later” she says to Sam, her therapy sessions she’d rather keep to one person knowing and oh it seems to be the guests of honors turns. “What?” Tony asks, “How’re you feeling Tony?” Everything and nothing, angry, sad, pissed off, on top of the world. “Like I’m back in NA” he says keeping it at that, “I Think it’s Steve’s turn” he says.
Steve rocks in his seat, “Yeah sure, I feel great much better” he says, it’s true he does. “Have you been taking your meds?” He inwardly cringes, “Mhm” he lies “Every morning” wrong he’s been flushing them down the toilet after Brock leaves for work. He’s a little irritable but he’s much better, he even finished cleaning his apartment and steam cleaning. Maybe he can get some dick tonight.
Steve’s having a little party of his own, never been much one to drink but he’s happy so he thinks he can drink ridiculously expensive liquor and dance naked on his counter tops if he wants to. He’s got pizza and wings chilling on the stove top, he ordered earlier waiting for Brock to come home. He’s late which is kinda irritating but oh well Steve’s been keeping himself entertained. He painted a mural from the refrigerator to the living room floor, it’s three D and all space like it’s pretty cool. He even redecorated the living room it’s like a witch lives here now. He frowns “Hey!” He pouts when Brock turns off the music.
“Steve what the fuck” He asks the house is a mess, Steve looks like he’s tweaked out. “What?!” Steve asks his anxiety ramping up as he pads over to the man. “Honey what’s going on?”
“N-nothing” he says, he just wants to be normal you know? He was feeling better than really good and now not so much. “Steven” he says tilting his head up. Steve’s lip wobbles “I’m sorry” he says “Baby just tell me what’s going on” Brock says he can’t help him if Steve doesn’t tell him. “I stopped taking my meds” he says “Why?”
“I felt better! I didn’t need them anymore and then I- I just want to be normal” he says “They all act weird now” he yells, “They look at me like- like I’m crazy” he mumbles. “Steve no, no come here” he says pulling the blond into his arms. “You’re not crazy baby” he reassures. “I’m not?” Steve sniffles “No not at all, the meds make you feel better but for it to last you have to keep taking them, for a while anyway” he says, Steve nods. “I’ll clean up your paint brushes, go get cleaned up then we can have dinner okay?”
“Okay” Steve breathes.
He tries his best not to freak out padding back out in comfy clothes to a clean living room and drying paint brushes. They sit at the now cleaned kitchen island eating having mindless conversation about their days. Brock gives him his meds again, making sure Steve swallows them this time. “I love you, sweet prince” he kisses Steve on the lips, “I love you too, Brock”
It started with his food not being able to touch on the plate see everything had a place an order to the point that it made sense to Tony’s disorder. Peas in the corner, potatoes in the center, meat on the side. Each having a half inch space between them eaten from worse to best in his opinion. Sauces were never to be in the equation. Before he could even sit down he had to wipe off the chair from any invisible crumbs and count all five hundred ceiling tiles if he didn’t he was sure something bad was gonna happen he just couldn’t explain why. When he was around eighteen already having two degrees in engineering he had learned to deal with his compulsions what he didn’t plan for and he did plan for everything, was outburst of anger, irritation, seeing things that no one else did or the worst was that he would be okay till he wasn’t and he didn’t know when that was coming. Everything had a place he didn’t like his stuff touched or a light turned off that he purposefully left on it made him irrationally angry, maybe it was all the years of parental neglect or he really didn’t have a grip on reality like he had thought he did.
He could deal with that in time too, he was born in the seventies grew up in the eighties, hell even as a young adult in the nineties he couldn’t just go around telling people this stuff, that’s how you get locked up and looked at crooked. His compulsions had stayed relatively tame since he was a child but that changed when he was handed his parents file telling him that they had died in a car crash, water over his ears, his hands felt dirty his brain on an anxious loop of ‘clean clean clean’ he dropped the file like it burned him screaming angrily at the detective to get the fuck out of his apartment. He had scrubbed his hands till they were cracked and bleeding covering them in enough hand sanitizer to kill a small colony of bacteria. His compulsions took a turn after that, can’t be handed things it too unsafe, too many germs feels dirty, can’t be driven anywhere bad things happen if you’re not the one driving, lean back when someone passes your car or next to you at a red light eyes can never be off the road.
These compulsions stayed even when he was trapped in a cave in the Middle East, a dirty dirty cave and ever present anxiety not because he was being kept alive by a battery but because he was angry tired and over all just kinda depressed. Getting back to the states was an adjustment he didn’t want anyone around he wouldn’t have to explain his ticks or compulsions or why his mood changed so fast he couldn’t explain it himself. He couldn’t explain why he fucking hated people he loved or thought about killing them why he had favorite people or why something so simple like accepting an award made him want to say fuck y’all to everyone’s faces.
Flying a bomb into space didn’t help his anxieties he thought hey maybe I can play nice with others maybe it’ll be good to have a team maybe finally get some help. He knew he was smarter than everyone else on the team, they all kinda annoyed him. The cap well he wanted to wrap his hands around his neck till he just stopped talking, Romanov and her prissy holier than thou attitude made him angry, she wasn’t any better than them. Banner was okay he was calm he didn’t move in a way that made Tony feel like a caged animal. They had saved the world again and again all in the course of two months, he still didn’t like anyone besides Banner, underoos annoyed him with all the idol stuff but he ended up adopting the kid anyway. Maybe he could be better that way? Do all the shit his parents didn’t.
He didn’t see the intervention coming nor did he really care he’d been drinking for a while something to actually sleep a few hours or just be calm. He didn’t expect to be in a white T shirt and scrub pants for three days straight sitting with a group of people who weren’t all there since the Regan administration, nor did he expect to feel that same rushing water over his ears as the doctor told him. “Anthony”
“Tony” he snapped always had to be Tony, not Anthony, Anthony didn’t exist, Anthony was always in trouble. “Tony, Bipolar type two, Obsessive compulsive disorder, PTSD, acute anxiety disorder” all Tony heard was ‘You’re crazy HERES enough drugs to make your brain mush’ . He’s not entirely sure he came back to himself till he was in his lab locked away skin raw from scrubbing himself in the shower even under his soft hoodie. He was staring a hole into one of his screens he’s sure they all knew he was crazy by now. Fuck them, he hated them all he hated everything he didn’t want to feel anything, he wanted to be alone. Alone is simple it’s quiet he can do that. He doesn’t work well with others he doesn’t like being treated like a child it just makes him angry.
He’d come out of his hole later, clocking all the stares and comments and questions getting the stupid emails from media outlets. He couldn’t fucking deal with another ‘Tony take your meds’. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He would hear himself yell, “NOT A SINGLE FUCKING ONE OF YOU EVER SHUT THE FUCK UP! ANNOYING PRISSY CUNTS! IM THIS CLOSE TO KILLING LITERALLY ALL OF YOU” he yells at his team mostly Rogers and Romanov. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” He storms away the glass he was holding had shattered in his hand, the glass in his hand stung but he didn’t register it, he was sliding down the wall in his bedroom which is always kept dark, it has to be. He didn’t realize he was crying or that he felt like he was dying till he felt arms around his body. His were around his head, he was screaming everything was so loud and not right, he knew they moved everything, his brain felt moved.
“Shh Tony it’s alright” Pepper told him in her calming voice holding him close in her arms, “You’re alright Tony, you’re safe. It’s just us” she’d hold him till he was calm enough to breathe, “You’re alright”
“I’m alright” He’d echo
“I love you Tony, it’s just us”
“You love me” he’d choke out, “I love you, just us”
Rogers and Stark would both be better in time, ups and downs just a part of everyday life for them. None of the mattered because Brock and Pepper weren’t giving up on them and neither were their fiends. They just needed to know they were gonna be okay.