Chapter 5
17/7/2016 3:46pm
Since College, James Rhodes had been Tony Stark's Best friend. He had been the one to stick up for him, the one to take care of the 'Stark kid' when people tried to take advantage of him.
Now, 20 years later, they sat on the couch of Tony's apartment in silence. Tony was staring at his tablet working on a project he wouldn't tell Rhodey about, while the older friend had his eyes locked on the black screen of the tv.
Tony was sat in the corner of the couch, covered up to his neck in blankets and pillows. His arms sticking out to hold the tablet. His half-finished smoothie Rhodey had made for him sat on the side table.
Rhodey was completely lost in thought. He couldn’t shake the worry about Tony—this just didn’t feel normal. But Bruce had reassured him that everything was fine, that there was nothing to worry about.
"You okay man?"
It took Tony a second to register what Rhodey had said, he had been completely focussed on his almost finished plans for his new illusion tech glasses.
"Oh, uh yeah."
"You seem out of it recently"
Normally Tony would never accept medical attention, especially not twice in one day. Something was wrong, if Tony didn't want to tell him now, he would at some point.
He knew Tony had been sick for a while, exactly how long Rhodey wasn't sure. Tony never got sick; he was known among the avengers as "one of the only people whose immune system is almost as good as Steve's".
Only after Afghanistan, he was more fragile, like if someone were to drop him, he'd crack into a million pieces.
"Bruce told me it was just a cold; I didn't believe him either but he's the doctor here."
Rhodey shifted his focus to the Wii U beside the TV, an idea forming to lighten the mood in the room.
"Wanna play Mario Kart?"
"What?"
"Mario Kart, do you want to play?"
Tony put his tablet face down on his blanket and stared at Rhodey, he made the face he made when someone had said something stupid.
"Um, obviously?"
He dropped the act and smiled. Rhodey had learned over the years that Tony was a master prankster, always joking about everything. But sometimes, those jokes did more harm than good.
He attempted to stand up and grab a controller, but Rhodey refused to let him, grabbing him a controller and switching on the console.
"Rhodey, I can do things by myself."
Tony accepted the controller handed to him. He wouldn't do this with anyone else. He usually hated being handed things.
"No, Doctor Rhodes is in charge, not you."
Tony jokingly crossed his arms and watched as Rhodey started up Mario Kart.
__________________________________________________________
17/7/2016 3:53pm
Steve stood at the mirror, water piling up in his hands, rubbing the ice-cold liquid on his face.
In that moment, it didn’t help what his heart was telling him. He felt shattered, he had lost everyone he’d ever loved in the span of a few hours. He had no idea what to do next.
"Steve?"
He wiped his eyes with his shirt, the redness and puffiness still visible from just moments ago.
"Yeah"
His voice broke.
"Steve?"
Sam said it again, more worry in his voice than before.
"Are you okay?"
Steve felt a pair of arms wrap around him, the warmth soaking into him and chasing away the chill that had settled over him.
"Come on"
Sam grabbed Steve's arm, dragging him over to the couch of his apartment.
"Tell me about it."
"What?"
"Come on man, you've been in that bathroom for half an hour, and you haven't told me anything since we were at the funeral."
Steve sat down beside Sam, immediately locking his eyes to the floor.
"He doesn't care."
Sam grabbed Steve by the shoulders and forced him to look him in the eyes.
"He does care, it might not seem like it, but he does. You said he's been sick for a while?"
Steve nodded, staring behind Sam at the painting hanging on his wall.
It seemed familiar to Steve, the field of flowers, the fence in the distance. He didn't know where he'd seen it before.
"When people are sick, they need help and sometimes they can't function properly by themselves."
Steve nodded again, this time looking into Sam's eyes. He tried to decipher exactly what he was saying but failed.
What was he meant to do?
Was this his fault?
Did Tony hate him?
Why?
"Next time you see him, talk to him, try to see what's actually wrong with him."
"Okay."
Steve didn't want to do that. He wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. He wanted to scream at a wall and never stop. But he knew he couldn't do that, he was Captain America, he had to stand up, put on his big boy pants and face his problems.
But he really couldn't talk to Tony.
__________________________________________________________
17/7/2016 3:57pm
"Who do you wanna play as?"
Tony was zoned out again, not focusing on the TV, not focusing on anything Rhodey was saying, and not focusing on his left hand resting on his stomach.
"Tony?"
He didn't even realise until he felt an unfamiliar sensation in his abdomen. It was small but it was enough to snap Tony out of it.
He took a sharp breath in, a look of both confusion and fear displayed on his face. He sat up slightly, keeping the blanket up to his chest.
"Are you alright?"
Rhodey grabbed his shoulders, staring into his eyes, worried.
"Yeah man I-"
He was out of breath for some reason, maybe he wasn't breathing before?
"Is this another anxiety attack or-?"
"Nah, I'm fine I swear."
Tony calmed down and grabbed his controller, he had so many questions running through his head.
What was that?
Was it normal?
Was it a kick?
Was he dying?
Why is he in this situation?
Why him?
Instead, he just answered Rhodey's question.
"I'm playing Bowser."
He settled back into a comfortable position on the couch, his focus fixed on the TV, determined not to think about what had just happened.
__________________________________________________________
17/7/2016 4:06pm
"When are we headed down to Vienna?"
After a few minutes of crying it out and a nice cup of coffee, Steve had calmed down enough to have a proper conversation with Sam.
"Nat said the 21st, the accords are being signed 22nd."
Steve stared blankly at the TV. Completely focussed on a random news report.
"Steve..."
"Mhm"
"It's not your fault, none of it is."
"Then who's fault is it, Sam?!"
He snapped, pulling his head over to look at his friend. Anger overtook him while he stared daggers into Sam's eyes.
"Sometimes things just can't be blamed on people, Steve."
He looked away, refocusing on the wall next to him, the back of his head facing Sam.
"Come here."
"What?"
Steve turned around again; Sam had his arms outstretched.
"Come. here. What about that dont you understa-"
He was silenced by Steve's arms being wrapped around his slightly smaller frame.
"Nothing that happened today was your fault man, being hard on yourself isn't going to help anything."
"You sure?"
"I Promise"