Clang
Clang
Clang “Come.”
Clang “On”
Clang “You.”
Clang “Fucking.”
Clang “Piece.”
Clang “Of.”
Psssshhhhhhhhhhhh…………
Tony stood up, his back pinching from having been bent over for longer than it approved of. “Ugh. Now was that so damn hard?” he accused as he waved his wrench-holding hand at the machine he’d been abusing, before looking at the wrench like he’d forgotten he was still holding it and dropping it with a loud clang. His whole body flinched.
“Ow, fuck. Loud mother-”
“Sir,” Jarvis interjected, “may I recommend you take this time between activities to catch up on your sleep? Your auditory and visual senses seem overly sensitive due to lack of-”
“I’m fine,” Tony snapped before going back to the hydraulic system he’d just beaten into obedience and wrapped both hands around one of the pieces.
“Then perhaps a meal is in order.”
Tony ignored the advice as he started to pull. His wrists flared up in pain and his left shoulder all but screamed at him.
“Sir, I really must insist-”
“I said I’m fine!” Tony hissed before one of his hands slipped off the machine and right into the cabinet on his other side. “Ahh! Shit fucking fuck!” he screamed as he did a combination of shaking his hand out and walking in a tight circle.
“Clearly,” Jarvis intoned.
Tony stopped just long enough to glare up at one of the many cameras in the room. But when he opened his mouth to bite out another retort, nothing came. So he forced a sigh and kicked one of the tables on his way to fall into one of the few stools in the workstation. Aside from the near-constant hum of the shop, there was silence.
Tony looked down at his hand. God, he hated this. Truly, epically, royally hated this. All of this. The images. The sounds. The dreams. The feeling of…
He felt his jaw clench and closed his eyes to try to breathe through this.
“Every fucking time...”
“Sir?”
Tony allowed himself another few breaths and rolled his shoulders as he stood. “Okay, J. Let’s start up the schematics of the Mark IV again using the hydraulics at the new angle.”
“Please, sir. I really must insist-”
“No, you really mustn’t.”
“You have been up for a solid eighty-four hours, sir. Given that my primary function is to ensure-”
“I know what your primary function is. I programmed you,” Tony spat and picked up the nearest coffee mug, took a sip, and cringe-gagged when it was cold and very stale. Jesus, how many days had that been sitting there?
“Then you are aware, sir,” it was not lost on Tony that Jarvis’s tone was becoming quite clipped, “that should I notice actions and or events occurring that are detrimental to your health, I am obligated to do my best to prevent it. Furthermore, Dr. Banner has implemented a new protocol in which I am to shut down all power to the lab should you be showing signs of decreased mental and/or physical ability due to illness, injury, or sleep deprivation and are unable to remove yourself willingly.”
Tony froze halfway to picking up the third mug. “He what?”
“Protocol 8-6-7-3-4 now engaged.”
“Wha…”
The machines started to turn off one after the other after the other. Even Dum-E wheeled himself to his charging station and powered down. Before long the major light systems went dark, then the specialty focus lights, even the emergency lights all went out.
Leaving Tony in total and complete blackness aside from the reactor.
“Oh, you cannot be serious.”
Silence.
“Okay, haha. Nice joke. I’ll admit.”
More silence.
“Okay, that’s enough. Come on, J. Lights up.”
More darkness.
Tony lifted his arms and let them drop to his sides. “Okay...okay, fine! I’ll go, but not because you’re making me. I’ll go because I have some very ouch...some very important-ah! God damn it!” Tony huffed in frustration after bumping into what felt like the same table twice. “You know for all that you’re doing this for my own safety, I’m going to break my neck in trying to get to the door, so you may as well turn the lights on for that.”
One single light just above the exit door clicked to life, seeping out enough residual light to just barely make out the edges of tables and other objects.
Tony shook his head. “Bruce program that passive-aggressiveness into you, too?”
“That, I can assure, was all you, sir.”
Tony once again closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before half-feeling his way to the door, grumbling the whole way. He stepped into the elevator and bashed the button for the common rooms.
“Sir-”
“Hey, I agreed to leave. Never said where exactly I agreed to leave to.”
“Yes, sir,” Jarvis responded in what could only be the electronic equivalent of a sigh as the elevator closed.
Tony huffed again and crossed his arms. Well now what was he supposed to do?
The thought of giving in and just falling into bed to attempt to sleep seemed anything but restful. If it were that easy, would he really be up for the fourth day in a row?
Okay, that wasn’t entirely in the realm of impossibility regardless, but it still was not something he could face. He could go a while longer still. Just a little while longer.
The doors opened and he stepped out and stopped, once again faced with how exactly he was supposed to use up his time now that the shop was off-limits, something he never thought would have been possible. Leave it to Bruce to talk Tony’s own creation into a coup, damn his adorably geeky charm.
He walked further into the next room. He could watch a movie, but that opened up the possibility of falling asleep so that was a no. Same with reading.
His fingers began to tap out a sequence against his palms, itching with something to do.
Without warning, his stomach offered an answer in the form of a loud and persistent growl.
He looked towards the kitchen and sighed.
Well, there were worse ways to kill time, he supposed.
--
Steve gave the bag three more good whacks before he stood huffing and puffing and deciding that that was enough for now. His muscles felt plenty warmed up. Most importantly, they felt warm enough to stave off the occasional chill that chose to torment him to the point of restlessness.
With a swipe to his brow, he turned to grab his water bottle and chugged it to nearly empty.
“Jarvis, what time is it?” he asked as he started to unwrap the tape from around his knuckles and wrists.
“It is nearly half three, Captain Rogers.”
Steve nodded resignedly. Well there went any hope for getting any sleep.
“In the morning, I might add.”
Steve started confusingly up at the ceiling as he started in on the other hand. “Uh, thanks for the clarification.”
“Just wanted to be thorough since two members of the tower seem to completely disregard when it is considered appropriate times to rest.”
Steve paused in tossing the tape into his bag. “Two?”
“Yes, Captain. Two.”
Steve thought on that a moment before just deciding to brush it off. The tower was full of the world’s most elite superheroes and superspies. He wasn’t sure why it should be surprising to him that the others would have a sleepless night or two themselves.
It wasn’t until he had his bag packed and put away and was on his way up to his quarters to shower that it dawned on him.
“Jarvis?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“The other person awake in the tower, please tell me that’s not Tony.”
“I am unable to comply with your request.”
Steve closed his eyes and let out a deeply put-out sigh. “And how long has he been up for exactly?”
“Sir will enter into his eighty-fifth hour in ten minutes.”
“What?" He did the calculation in his head. "That’s nearly four days! Has he really not slept at all?”
“That is correct, Captain.”
He cursed and headed for the stairwell. The communal floor was only two stories up and he needed a minute to think anyway.
Tony was prone to sleepless nights. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence to see Tony stumble out of the workshop or lab at all hours of the day and night looking like he’d make a pretty convincing extra in the next big post-apocalypse movie. One of the group, usually Steve because he didn’t mind putting down whatever he was doing to help, would take a minute to make sure Tony made it to either the nearest couch or his own bed to sleep off the inventing-hangover.
But four days? That’s not the average sleepless bender, even for Tony. He needed to figure out a way to make him get some rest short of knocking him unconscious.
Well, the hardest step was already out of the way, he was out of the workshop. Now just to convince him to make it the rest of the way to his bedroom.
Steve knew that outright telling Tony to go to sleep would be a non-starter. He had to find a way to tell him without actually telling him.
I could go to bed with you, if that would help.
He nearly tripped on the last few steps, the heat of a blush already blooming across his face.
Though he now stood in front of the door that led to the communal floor, he took a moment to collect himself and get his libido’s images and wayward thoughts under control. Tony needed to sleep, not get felt up.
“Is there a problem, Captain Rogers?”
“Uh, no. No, just...thinking about what to say.”
“If it helps, I have tried citing scientific research studies that list the side effects of sleep deprivation several times, as well as asking nicely several more. Neither has worked.”
Steve smirked. “Thanks, but I wouldn’t have been able to do the former anyway, and the latter is definitely not on my list of tactics.”
“Regardless, I do hope you are able to convince Sir to rest. He is already showing signs of irritability, impaired coordination, and apparently food cravings.”
The last one threw him a little, but filed it away, took a breath, and made his way through the door. He searched through the floor, assuming he was in the kitchen and found Tony at the stove, stirring something in a boiling pot.
He took a moment to take in just how bad the situation was: T-shirt that had definitely seen cleaner and less wrinkly days, pants that seemed to be painted on looked like they’d once been blue but were now mostly black and brown, hair incredibly soft-looking without the usual product sticking every which way, no shoes, and mismatched socks.
Yeah, not great.
Steve made sure to make a few quiet noises to alert Tony to his presence without startling him. Tony turned his head just enough to look over to see who had entered. If he was surprised to see Steve in the kitchen this early in the morning, he didn’t show it. In fact, he just went right back to staring at whatever was boiling in the pot.
Well, not the best start but not dead in the water just yet.
“Hey. What are you doing up at, what time is it?” Steve looked over Tony’s shoulder at the clock on the stove. “Uh, three-thirty in the morning? Making…” he walked closer to pick up the overturned and ripped open blue box, “mac and cheese?”
“I could very well ask you the same thing.”
Again, the lack of much of a reaction was surprising. “Tony-”
“Look,” Tony picked up the pot and strained it in the colander already set in the sink, “I don’t ask for much in life,” he paused for a moment, “okay, maybe I do, but just this once, could you not question my madness for like ten minutes?”
That was... unexpected. There was definitely something more to this than him just coming off his latest building bender.
“Yep. I can do that.” Steve walked over to the other side of the island and pulled out one of the high-boy chairs. “Mind if I sit while I’m actively not questioning your madness?”
Tony shrugged as he poured the drained pasta back into the pot. “Free tower. Do whatever the hell you like.”
Steve nodded and sat in the stool. Without the distraction of talking, it left him with little to do besides watching Tony’s hands as he went through the motions of mixing the butter, milk, and neon-orange not-really-cheese mix, all without a measuring cup in sight. This was hardly a chore. Watching Tony’s hands at work was one of Steve’s favorite pastimes.
Before he knew it, Tony was plopping down a bowl half-filled with steamy, gooey, orange food-like substance, complete with spoon. He looked up to see Tony leaning against the counter holding his bowl in one hand and shoveling spoonfuls of possibly radioactive pasta into his mouth with the other.
Steve looked back down to his own bowl. He’d heard Clint talk about how Kraft was the only respectable version of mac and cheese, even seen Natasha and Bruce stealing a spoonful or two. How bad could it be?
Well, now was not the time to turn down an offering anyway so he picked up the spoon, scooped a healthy helping, and took a bite.
His taste buds immediately flared to life as the cheese-like sauce hit him smack in the face. He made a point of not pulling any faces as he chewed and finally swallowed. Was it good? Not precisely. Did it have some kind of comfort food quality? Somehow yes. He took another bite.
“I’m a grown man.”
Steve looked up at Tony, spoon still stuck between his lips. “What?”
“I’m a grown ass man,” Tony continued, wielding his own spoon like a conductor’s wand. “I have three Ph.Ds, a Fortune 50 company, state of the art R&D workshop that I created as well as an AI that practically runs a good quarter of the world, the mental capacity of two and a half Einsteins…”
Steve blinked, expecting there to be more to the sentence, but Tony looked like he’d just frozen mid-thought. He wasn’t sure if saying something would stop the talking altogether or bring him out of whatever this trance was. But the more time went on, the more Tony’s face started to fall into something unpleasant. He needed to do something that shocked him out of whatever his current train of thought was before it swallowed him whole.
“Who’s Einstein?”
That did it. Tony’s head swiveled over to him so fast, Steve was sure he heard a crack or two, and that was saying nothing for the look of either disgust or horror on his face.
“Kidding,” Steve smirked. “He was already a thing before…” He shrugged.
Tony eased up and shook off his shock. “Right.” He finally took his last bite before putting his bowl in the sink none too quietly.
They sat in silence save for the running water Tony was using to fill the pot and his bowl, and the wet squelch of Steve playing with his food. It really did have an odd sound to it. Almost enough to make the dish seem completely unappetizing.
“How does he still have the ability to make me feel like…”
Steve looked up again to see that the earlier agonized expression was back. He really wished Tony would stop getting trapped in his own mind, leaving sentences hanging like that. Maybe this time he needed to help it along instead of distracting from it.
“Feel like what?”
For one terrifying moment, Tony’s eyes clouded over. “Helpless.”
Steve’s appetite made a swift and sudden exit.
“They all still think he’s a good person. Something to celebrate. Someone who deserves to go down in history as some great man of his time, felled too soon.” He jabbed the filled pot with the dish brush and began to scrub furiously. “And now they want to erect some fucking statue of him in Battery Park. Honor him for the ‘great war hero he was’.” More stabbing, more scrubbing.
Steve got a sick feeling in his stomach. Anything regarding Howard was always a touchy subject, for both of them. Steve learned quickly to steer clear of all mention of him or deal with...well, this. And though Tony had his apparently justifiable qualms, it was still difficult for Steve to hear what his good friend had become, how his obsession to find him in the Arctic had taken over his entire life to the point of ignoring all the important things. Like his own son.
“Tony,” Steve said quietly, knowing he needed to say something. At the rate he was going, Tony was going to scrub his hands raw. “Tony.” Still no response.
Steve quietly moved off of the stool and in a few easy steps made it around the island and next to Tony. “Tony, I-”
Apparently laying a hand on Tony’s shoulder was the wrong move if the way his entire body jerked and threw off his hand, leaving Tony staring at him wide-eyed and wielding the brush in one hand out like a weapon.
The truly heartbreaking part was how firmly his other hand had a grasp of the reactor.
Steve needed to close his eyes for a moment and take a breath for the absolute sick feeling of Tony ever thinking he would hurt him in that way, abuse his trust like that, to subside.
“Tony,” he tried again very quietly as he opened his eyes,” I know that you’re relationship with your father was...troublesome, and I’m sorry for-”
“No.”
Steve’s mouth snapped shut in resigned frustration. Already, it was turning into yet another badly approached discussion.
“Not Howard.”
Steve’s shock hit him like a brick to the face and made him just as disoriented. Not Howard? Who else on the planet could evoke this kind of visceral reaction?
Tony opened his mouth but said nothing at first. Steve realized he was trying to force it out, and when he finally did, he looked so pained just trying to say it, like each syllable was a razor against his tongue.
“Obie.”
It took all of two seconds for Steve to link the nickname to the proper name.
Obadiah Stane.
Steve had seen the file. He’d read about the faux father figure Stane had become to a young Tony who was desperately seeking approval. Read how he had taken over SI after Howard and Maria’s deaths. Read how it had taken no time at all before he was double-dealing to terrorists and extremists. How he’d called the hit on Tony. How he’d tried to kill Tony himself when he heard about Tony’s new direction for the company. Read the cover-up story of Stane dying in a plane crash.
Steve looked down at the hand that was still gripping the reactor like his life depended on it. He had to physically force his jaw to release as well as the fists he hadn’t even realized he’d made.
“He's dead, Tony.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I know that?”
Steve didn’t even flinch at the crash of the brush being thrown in the sink before Tony’s glare was set on him again.
“I’m the one who killed him, remember that! I had to pay for his funeral, read a eulogy made of lies, bury him in the same fucking cemetery as-” He shook his head with a deep scoff. “Little it does me when his face comes up big as fucking life on the news and my brain just regresses to three years old, afraid of the god damn boogyman.”
It was starting to come together for Steve. He could only imagine how he himself would react if he saw a newscast about a memorial built for Schmitt in his own city, a constant reminder of the terror he caused. But he also knew Tony, and knew that just seeing an image of Stane wouldn’t be enough to keep him up at night. He was missing something.
What he wasn’t missing was the way Tony’s inhales were becoming significantly shorter than his exhales. It was starting slow but ramping up quickly.
“And I’m very sorry you had to do all that, but you really need to-”
Tony’s eyes all but threw daggers. “I swear to god if you tell me to calm down!”
Steve nodded. “Yeah, okay. Fair enough, but you do need to slow down.”
“Jesus, first Jarvis, now you. What is it...fuck, going to take to prove that I’m fine?!”
“Breathing at a normal rate would be a good start.”
“I am breathing!” he snapped, followed closely by several stuttered breaths.
“Yeah, more out than in.” Steve didn’t waste time, just grabbed Tony’s wrist and laid his hand flat against his chest, placing his own on top so Tony couldn’t immediately pull away.
“What are you...doing?”
“Just breathe with me, Tony. Like this, in...” Both their hands moved gently up as Steve took a deep inhale, then back down in a smooth motion. “...and out.”
“I know how to breathe,” Tony insisted as he tried to pull his hand away but Steve persisted.
“In….out….in…”
Tony gave another token pull before he eventually relented, though none too happily if his frown had anything to say about it.
“Good,” Steve praised. “Good, just focus on me. Keep going. In….out…”
For several minutes, they stood breathing together. Steve’s metronomic ‘in...out…’ had managed to smooth out the impending panic attack as well as Tony’s pinched expression, but he didn’t let up.
It was another while before Steve even realized he’d stopped speaking at some point and was now just watching Tony slowly breathe on his own. He also only then realized that this thumb was leisurely stroking a path across the back of Tony’s hand, which he was still holding against his chest. He stopped.
Tony opened his eyes and stared at his captive hand.
“Better?” Steve asked just barely above a whisper, almost afraid to break the moment they were caught in.
Tony didn’t respond, just continued to stare at their hands.
That is until Steve felt the tiniest movement of Tony’s own thumb stroke a simple backward and forward motion. Just the once, but it was enough to send a shiver up his spine.
“The reactor was out.”
Steve shook his head. “Tony, he’s-”
“Last week. I had it out for a tune-up. I had the news on as white noise and Ob...Stane’s story came up.”
And there it was. The missing piece. The combination of having the arc reactor out of its casing and seeing Stane’s image was enough of a punch to send Tony spiraling. Amazing how just a bit of bad timing could affect someone on this deep a level. It made perfect sense.
“They listed his accomplishments, his philanthropy,” Tony hissed. “There was this ringing in my ears. It just kept getting louder. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. Every blink, I saw him over me, holding the…”
Tony’s free hand made to grab the reactor again, but it curled into a fist and lowered again.
“Before I knew it I was vomiting in the nearest trash can. Good ol’ college muscle memory.” Tony tried to laugh but it came out a sigh.
Steve let the moment sit, curled his fingers around Tony’s against his chest.
“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Steve insisted gently. “Even if he wasn’t dead, he'd have a hell of time even getting close enough to breathe the same air as you. He’d have to get through Jarvis’s security, past Natasha’s stings, Clint’s arrows. He’d have to get through the Hulk, and you know you’re his favorite so that’s not gonna happen.”
Tony finally allowed a smirk. “I am his favorite.”
Steve nodded. “And he’d definitely have to get through me. And he’d have one hell of a time because the only way he’d get to you is over my dead body.”
Tony lifted his gaze from their hands to Steve’s face. He nodded with a tight but appreciative smile. “Thanks, Cap.”
And with that, Tony patted his hand against Steve’s chest twice and slipped free. Steve suddenly felt cold and incomplete but pushed it aside to focus back on Tony who planted his hands on his hips and stared at the watery mess in the sink and across the counters.
Tony sighed. “Well, I’m nothing if not thoroughly destructive.” He walked forward, grabbed a hand towel, and started sopping up the mess.
Steve followed suit, taking up the brush and finishing scrubbing the dishes. He was glad Tony didn’t make any exceptions to him helping clean up.
“So,” Steve eventually started, hoping to help lighten the mood, “all that stuff you mentioned, three Ph.D.s and Jarvis running part of the world, was that all true or were you just trying to impress me?”
Tony rang out his towel and placed it over the sink to dry with a shrug. “Any reason both can't be true?”
Steve looked over with a smirk as he dumped the water out of the pot. “None in particular.”
They finished cleaning up, and both headed to the elevator. On the way up, Steve tried to keep himself from fidgeting as he worked himself up to offer. “You know, I don’t mind staying over.”
Tony looked to him with a raised brow.
Steve blushed. “On the couch, I mean. You know, as a way to help you sleep? I didn’t grow up in the best neighborhood and when my mom was working late, it always made me feel better when Bucky slept over, especially when I was sick. He was like a kind of extra hurdle, you know...not that I think you need protecting!” he added hurriedly. “Just it might help to ease your anxiety and relax and sleep and-”
“How about we be each other’s hurdles?”
Steve looked over to see Tony’s smile and couldn’t help returning it. “Uh...yeah. Okay.”
“Good.” The doors opened on Tony’s floor and he grabbed Steve’s wrist and led him back towards the bedroom. “Bed’s plenty big enough though.”
Steve only stumbled on the first step out of the elevator and tried to keep his heart in his chest as he followed Tony back.
Tony released Steve’s wrist once in the bedroom and continued on to the bathroom, leaving Steve standing alone to stare at the bed and feel his ears heat up.
“Toothbrush, towel if you wanna clean up,” Tony said, wiping his mouth of excess toothpaste as he made his way back out towards the closet. “I’ll see if I can find you something to sleep in.
Steve thanked him and went to the bathroom to do just that. He did take a quick shower, suddenly very aware of the sweat left over from his earlier workout. He stepped out to find sweats and a shirt on the counter. He changed and headed out to find Tony sitting on the side of the bed, eyes closed and head hung low in the universal arch of the utterly exhausted.
Steve went over and gently laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Hmm?”
“Lie down, Tony.”
Tony grunted in the affirmative and did as he was told, sluggishly pulling the sheets back and sliding in as Steve walked to the other side and did the same, trying his best not to feel awkward about the situation.
It was several minutes, plenty long enough to have gotten himself wrapped in a string of thoughts as he stared up at the ceiling when he felt Tony’s hand back on his wrist. He let Tony pull his arm over, even making himself turn onto his side, wondering what Tony was asking for.
Steve felt his breath catch in his throat when he felt his hand land on something metal and circular.
The reactor.
Steve was worried it was a miscalculation and the mistake was going to set off another episode when he felt Tony pat his head gently and mumble, “Extra, extra hurdle.”
Steve felt his heart swell with pride that Tony trusted him with this, knew without a doubt that he could trust Steve with this.
He shifted a little closer so his reach wasn’t quite so far and settled back in. And if the new position just happened to land his nose just shy of Tony’s hair, who could possibly blame him for leaning in just a little further.
It was Tony who took the final prerogative and shifted his whole body backward until they were snug against each other, even going so far as to hook his ankle around Steve’s calf.
Steve’s smile was so big and so happy, he couldn’t help pressing a kiss to the crown of Tony’s head. “Good night, Tony.”
Tony was already asleep.