Brown, tired eyes looked out the window, a blank gaze wandering over the city lights from high above New York. He held a glass of water in his hand, wishing it was filled with something stronger. His hand was shaking. It was always shaking nowadays.
Tony heaved a sigh, putting the glass aside and leaning back into the couch. The room was dark, lacking the Christmas decorations that fit with the time of the year. Christmas lights had once decorated these walls, a Christmas tree that was so tall it bent underneath the ceiling brightening up the room from the corner. Back when it was still lived in and lively, back when this place was a home. Now, it was no more than four walls and a heavy layer of dust. Tony felt his eyes burn, but he was too tired for tears. He was tired of being alone, of being left behind, being hurt. He was just... tired.
He knew Christmas was a time for joy, a time for family and friends and good food and cheap presents. He'd never experienced it himself, but he knew how it was supposed to go. As a child, he'd hoped that one day his parents would do that for him, too. They never had before they died. Now he knew how. He'd thought the Avengers would give him that. But where were they now? He was still alone, just like when he was a small, helpless child. He let out a humorless chuckle. So many years lived and still feeling like a child silently begging for his parents to notice him, even just once a year, even just on Christmas.
A footstep sounded behind him. Tony felt his adrenaline spiking, instincts flaring up to investigate a potential danger. But it died down as quickly as it had come, and all that came out was another world-weary sigh. If anyone wanted to rid him of his suffering, they might as well just go ahead. So he just closed his eyes.
"Tony," a soft voice spoke from behind him. That voice. Tony would recognize that voice anywhere. A voice that, for a long time, had meant something to him. Companionship, familiarity, Tony would even go as far as to say friendship. Now, all that voice did to him was make his chest ache tiredly. Not even the healing wound seemed to give a shit anymore.
"Rogers," he replied, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. He didn't speak much these days. He didn't have any reason to. There was no one to listen anyway.
"Tony, I'm-" Rogers started, but Tony cut him off.
"Sorry?" He guessed, and huffed. "Aren't we all."
It was silent for a while, Rogers not moving and Tony not having the energy to fill the silence like he usually would. Like he used to do. Then Rogers sighed. His sigh wasn't like Tony's. It was filled with sadness, but acceptance, knowing that he wouldn't be able to change anything. Tony was too tired to be sad anymore. Rogers moved around the couch Tony was sitting on to sit down on one of the loveseats they'd left behind when they moved. Images rushed by Tony's eyes. Images of happiness, movie nights, throwing popcorn at the TV and then each other, sitting silently on the couch in the wee hours of the morning, just enjoying each other's presence in the dark and empty night. Tony blinked. The laughter faded into deafening silence that roared loudly in his ears. Rogers was looking at him. Tony looked away.
"I know apologizing won't mean much," Rogers said, his voice soft. Then why are you doing it anyway? Tony wanted to say. He kept his gaze out the windows. "And I know I'm much too late. But I really am sorry, Tony. And I'm sorry it took me so long to realize my mistakes." He paused as if waiting for Tony to say something. Accept his apology, perhaps. The thought almost made Tony snort out loud. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on the moon. It was only eight but the sky was dark as night. Tony missed seeing the stars. He didn't miss being among them, though. "I guess I'm just so used to everyone agreeing with me as if I could do no wrong. Perhaps it's blinded me." Perhaps, Tony wanted to sneer back. Perhaps you should've opened your eyes sooner to see just how blind you've been. He said none of it.
"Tony, really, I'm-"
"Why are you here, Rogers," Tony said, his voice betraying none of his raging emotions except his overwhelming exhaustion. "The king bore you with all his Wakandan riches?"
Rogers was silent. If he was surprised Tony knew where he'd been, he didn't mention it, and Tony didn't bother looking up to find out for himself.
"It didn't feel right. Not on Christmas."
"No, not on Christmas. But any other day it's fine." Tony couldn't help the anger flaming up inside of him. He clenched his hands into fists. "Leaving me alone on a stupid holiday didn't feel right, but lying about my parents' murder you had no problems with."
"Tony-" Rogers tried, but Tony didn't want to hear it.
"Leaving me alone on Christmas eve didn't feel right, but smashing your shield into my suit was fine. The idea of me being alone when it's cold out and most would have someone to keep them warm didn't feel right, but leaving me alone in a freezing bunker was a-okay. You're so full of shit, Rogers."
If he'd had more energy, he would've yelled. He would've stood up and told it to his face. As it were, Tony never raised his voice and only barely met the Captain's eye before tearing his gaze out the window once again, retreating into the same blank stare he'd held before his outburst.
"Tony, I-" Rogers sighed. "I don't know what else to say except that I'm sorry. I wish we could've handled the situation better, but we didn't, and we can't go back now. We all made bad decisions, and we're all suffering for it now." Yeah, I bet you're all suffering real bad in a hi-tech secret country while living like kings. Oh, woe is you. "I just wish we could talk, is all. I miss you, Tony."
And it hurt, oh, how it hurt. It tugged at his heart because if there's one thing Tony's wanted ever since he was a little boy, was for Captain America himself to care about him, the way his own father never could. For a man as good as Captain America to be his friend, even though no one else would. But then he met him, and he very quickly realized that there is no Captain America. There is no hero who could do no wrong, who stood up for the little guy. There was just a man. A man who couldn't let go of his past enough to look at the present and appreciate it for what it was. A man who was plagued by loss. Tony could understand. That man saw something that was tied to his past and couldn't let that go. The world be damned, he was going to hold onto his past with both hands and never let go. Rules be damned. Tony be damned.
"Should've taken that into consideration when you left me, Rogers," he whispered. In the silence that followed was a silent acceptance. Steve had made his decision. Tony was a part of his present, a time that Rogers clearly didn't want to live in. Perhaps, if things had been different, if Steve hadn't been so tied to his past, if he and Tony hadn't both been too stubborn to hold on to their own ideas and perceptions, they could've worked. They might have been good friends. They might have been... more. But as it was, they weren't, and they never would be. That was something for the what if's and could've's they might think about on dark nights and lonely hours.
Realizing this, Rogers stood up. He hesitated only a second as he looked down at the defeated figure on the couch.
"Goodbye, Tony," he spoke, his voice soft with acceptance, and maybe a hint of sadness. Then, his figure disappeared from where it had come, and Tony was alone again. He didn't move for a long time. How long, he didn't know. He didn't care, either. He found himself doing that a lot nowadays. He wondered how long he could sit there until his body gave up. What if he died here, alone, no one knowing where he was or what had happened to him. Did he want to die? Surely not, he'd come so far, survived so much. It'd be a waste to give up now. Don't waste your life, Yinsen had said.
"I'm sorry," Tony whispered to his memory in the darkness of the room. He imagined Yinsen sitting across from him, polishing his glasses on his shirt as he listened to him. "Did I waste it?"
"Your life's not over yet, Stark," Yinsen said, putting his glasses back on his nose as he looked at him kindly. "There's so much you could still do."
"But I'm tired, Yinsen," Tony said, his voice rough with emotion but his eyes dry. He didn't think he had any tears left.
"I know, Stark. And one day, you'll rest." Yinsen smiled, standing up to kneel before him, a gentle but strong hand on his knee. He smiled, lovingly, the way Tony always wished Howard would smile at him. "But today is not that day. Nor tomorrow. Your time will come, and you'll join me."
"When?" Tony whispered like a desperate plea. "When can I stop?"
"When the time comes, you will know. Just as I did."
Yinsen smiled at him, but when Tony blinked, he was gone. He felt a single tear roll wetly down his cheek. Huh, he thought numbly. Guess I had something left in me.
He wiped it away, looking at the spot Yinsen had been. He didn't know if he was feeling better or worse after a conversation with a ghost, but he supposed there had been some truth in the man's words. He still had so much left to give. As appealing as it seemed to rest now and never be demanded to do anything again, he knew he wouldn't be satisfied. Not now. Not yet.
But tonight, he could take it easy. Tonight, no one expected anything of him. He allowed himself tonight to grieve all he had lost. Alone, in the solitude of his abandoned tower-
The elevator dinged. There were shuffling and hushed voices, and Tony contemplated telling them to piss off and leave him alone because this was his night when the lights turned on. He groaned and closed his eyes against the onslaught of light, draping an arm over his eyes.
"Turn it off," he ordered. Or at least he'd meant for it to sound like an order, but his voice was rough with disuse and he still just sounded so tired.
"But then how could we see where to hang the Christmas lights?"
Tony froze. Shit. He knew exactly who that innocent and youthful voice belonged to. To someone who shouldn't be here. Someone who should be at home, watching stupid Christmas movies with his aunt or decorating a poor pine tree with so many decorations you wouldn't be able to see the tree underneath it. Peter Parker should be anywhere but with Tony Stark.
"You don't," Tony said, swallowing down his panic. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. Least of all the kid. "Go home and hang 'em there."
"But we already have Christmas lights there and May says I can't have more. So I thought we'd put them here!"
He sounded so young, so happy, as if decorating Tony's room of misery was the best idea since Christmas was invented. Tony removed his arm from his eyes to see the kid and his aunt hanging Christmas lights on the wall with one of the construction ladders the workers had left behind after Tony had promptly canceled the sale. Peter turned back to meet his eyes and grinned.
"Merry Christmas Mr. Stark!"
Tony looked him dead in the eye.
"Christmas schrizmas," he muttered, reaching for his glass of water.
"Don't be such a grinch, Mr. Stark. Where's the hot chocolate in this place?"
"There's exactly nothing in this place, Mr. Parker, no one lives here," Tony grumbled.
"You live here," Peter pointed out.
"Right, and do you see me sipping chocolate milk?"
"Then we'll buy some!"
"It's nine pm on Christmas eve, do you really think anything's open right now?"
"So we'll order in! Friday can do that, right?"
"The needed groceries and decorations have already been ordered and should be here by ten," Tony's disloyal AI answered proudly. Peter beamed. Tony groaned. May just laughed.
"Don't try to fight it, Tony. Nothing can stop Peter on Christmas," she said knowingly.
"Right. I thought you hated me?"
May looked at least a little bit guilty.
"I didn't like you, I'll admit."
"That's fine, I wouldn't either," Tony dismissed easily. May gave him a Protective Mother glare before rolling her eyes.
"But, I changed my mind."
"Now, what made you do that?" Tony muttered into his water, pretending he wasn't completely shocked.
"Peter, mostly," May shrugged, going back to her Christmas decorations. "I've never seen him so excited about anything, which is quite a feat. He gets excited easily." Tony snorted. "But he's also a rambler, and I managed to catch quite some good things every time he came home from one of your little 'lab sessions'." She looked him in the eye then, and the sincerity there caught Tony off guard. "You really mean a lot to him, you know," she said. Tony held her gaze, caught like a deer in headlights until Peter awkwardly cleared his throat.
"Well, so does Star Wars, so," he shrugged, his cheeks red. Tony was too touched to tease him for it. He'd seen the kid a few times after the 'civil war' and after Peter's Vulture fiasco. Peter had come out of his shell relatively quickly, though Tony had never expected him to actually... like him, as stupid as that sounded. But here he was, surprising him for Christmas without any prompting to do so.
"Why are you here?" He asked them, trying to pretend his voice wasn't as hoarse as it was.
"Because it's Christmas," Peter said, matter-of-factly. "You shouldn't be alone for Christmas."
"And who told you I'd be alone?"
Peter beamed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Tony frowned, but before he could say anything, the elevator dinged again, and a whole-ass Christmas tree fell out. Tony stood up from the couch and looked into the elevator to see Rhodey and Pepper standing there, stupid grins on their faces.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Tony blurted.
"Merry Christmas to you too, little brother," Rhodey grinned, stepping over the tree to walk towards him, his leg braces whirring softly. Tony could do nothing but let his best friend pull him close, his eyes burning once again but for a whole different reason than before as Rhodey's familiar smell washed over him. He'd always been weak with his brother. He buried his face in the crook of Rhodey's neck the way he always did, Rhodey's hand in a familiar and soothing grip on the back of his neck. They didn't need words to communicate their intentions. Tony knew this was Rhodey's way of saying 'I'm here, you don't have to do this alone'. Tony gripped him just a little tighter.
Only when he felt he'd composed himself did he pull away. Rhodey gave his neck one last reassuring squeeze before letting go.
"So, we brought you a Christmas tree," he said, as if Tony could've missed the haggard, almost 2-meter-long pine tree lying on the floor in front of the elevator. Tony gave him a look as if to say 'no shit'. "Don't give me that look, you grinch, I knew you wouldn't have one because you never do."
"I hate Christmas," Tony muttered grumpily.
"No, you don't," Pepper chirped. Tony glared at her. "Tony'll take any excuse to bundle up with a blanket, fuzzy socks, and some hot chocolate, trust me," she winked towards the Parkers. "Now quit whining and help me with this tree."
The next hour was spent absolutely showering the place in Christmas decorations until it looked like an overgrown decorations box. To Tony, it had never looked prettier. His depressed mood had slowly retreated over the course of the night and by the time they were all sitting on the couch in the Christmas sweaters Friday had ordered, nursing a hot chocolate with too much whipped cream and a bad Christmas movie on the flatscreen TV. Tony was smushed together on the couch between his two best friends, Peter at their feet, completely engrossed in the movie. Tony held Pepper's hand tightly in his as he dropped his head on his brother's shoulder.
"I thought you were spending Christmas with your families," he said softly, as not to disrupt the movie. Rhodey's hand moved to his hair as Pepper kissed his cheek and smiled at him.
"We are."
Tony's parents might never have spent Christmas with him, and the Avengers may not have stuck around, but, Tony supposed, if you made the right choice, anyone could choose their family. Or perhaps this was simply a Christmas miracle.