A Good Man
Day 216
Steve had tried to call Tony. He kept reaching JARVIS’ pre-programmed voicemail. By the time he has to pick himself up for work and drive Peter to school, Steve is sleep deprived and worn out. The thought that Tony, the man he was considering to spend the rest of their lives with, is harbouring this secret is too much for him to take. The only thing keeping him awake is the rage that’s boiling hotter and hotter every second in his chest. How dare Tony do that to Peter?
Did Tony know from the very beginning? Or did he only realise after and decided to keep up the charade? But how could Tony not know from the beginning? JARVIS is an AI more advanced than anything, it wouldn’t be hard to see through every nook and crevice of Steve’s life, of Peter’s dreams and wishes. Suddenly, it’s no surprise that Tony knew how to get along with Peter so quickly.
Steve has always wondered why someone like Tony would want to be with someone like Steve, and he realises that now he knows.
Now, he understands.
And he’s going to let Tony know.
“She’ll live,” Tony tells the tearful parents. Usually, he gets a sense of joy, of pride, but he doesn’t.
He’s tired, he’s tried to turn his life around, but it’s not enough, it will never be enough no matter how many lives he saves, he’s still the Merchant of Death. Tony walks away, unable to share in the relief of the family. He’s tired of avoiding Steve, too, of harbouring secrets.
Tony just needs to find the right time to tell him. There must be a way that his mind can come up with to ease Steve into it. Nothing is impossible, right?
The last thing Tony wants is for Steve to –
“Tony!”
Steve is storming down the hallways towards the waiting area. Some voice in Tony tells him to flee, but he’s rooted to the spot. Everyone else is glancing curiously at them.
Steve is angry.
It’s too late.
Steve reaches Tony and hauls him by the shirt to the nearest wall, slamming him against it. Tony claws uselessly at the hem of his shirt.
“You manipulative…” – his words trail off but Tony knows how that statement would have ended had Steve been anyone else.
It hurts.
Tony’s known pain intimately, but this, this is a new kind, deeper, sharper, crueller.
“How dare you just waltz back into his life? How dare you come here like this, after leaving him?”
Steve’s voice is growing louder, and they’ve attracted the attention of anyone within a hearing range. Tony doesn’t want to defend himself, but he knows Steve, knows that Steve will regret this public outburst later.
“Please, Steve – ” he tries to say.
Steve cuts in, cold and bitter. “You know, I thought we met by fate. I thought I loved you.”
Tony can’t breathe. He’s back in the car, with Rumiko, but now it’s Steve bleeding next to him.
“I should’ve known. Why you were so evasive, you wouldn’t tell me anything about your past, why you took every opportunity possible to spend time with Peter.”
From the edges of his dazed vision, Tony notices the nurses and residents escorting people away. He thinks the flash of red he sees is Natasha’s hair, but he can’t be sure. He tries to reach up to Steve, but Steve slaps his hand away.
Sometimes, Tony forgets how strong Steve is, and he’s reminded forcefully, now. His hand pulses. It will bruise badly tomorrow, Howard won’t like that, usually he’s careful not to hit where it shows –
Wrenching himself from his jumbled memories, Tony tries again. “Steve, can we take this somewhere private?”
A flash of something dangerous flashes in Steve’s normally kind eyes. “Embarrassed now are we? Don’t want the world to hear your dirty little secret? Well too bad. You left Peter all those years back, and you have the audacity to try and come back into his life now?”
Tony’s ears are ringing, he needs Howard – Steve – to let go so he can breathe.
“Do you know how many times he's asked me about his real parents? How I had to lie, because I couldn’t tell him that his parents didn’t want him?”
“Let me explain,” Tony pleads, even as he knows that Steve won’t let him.
Their eyes lock, and Tony feels sick at the revulsion, the hate that he find written clearly across Steve’s face.
“You don’t get to explain. You don’t get to do anything. I don’t want you around him, around me. We’re through.”
Tony’s mouth opens, then closes uselessly.
“You stay the hell away from us,” Steve roars, hands curling even tighter on the hem of Tony’s shirt. “You stay away from Peter.”
Tony doesn’t speak, his eyes just blazing with something Steve can’t read. And how had Steve not seen how similar his eyes were to Peter’s?
They stare at each other, tension crackling as people stare.
Suddenly, Steve notices Natasha’s fingers hovering over Steve’s fist.
“You need to calm down,” she says, her voice a practiced softness. “Let go,” she tells Steve, and Steve lets go of Tony, the other man sliding down the wall and rubbing at this chest.
Natasha meets Steve’s gaze fearlessly. For a second, neither of them back down.
Then, Steve huffs. He turns around and stalks away from them both, pushing past the small crowd that’s gathered.
He knows why Natasha chose to defend Tony, but it feels like a betrayal all the same.
And Steve’s heart has had enough of betrayal.