01/12 | IRONSTRANGE
Tony was sitting in the chair that faced the entryway to the living room, where Stephen was going to have to come through in order to basically get anywhere in the house. In his one hand was a half a bottle of scotch, and in the other was a half cracked iPhone.
Glancing at his watch, Tony sighed. It was already quarter to one in the morning, Stephen was supposed to be home from his shift at the hospital by eleven, although him being late wasn’t that uncommon as of the past few months. Just the past week, Tony had attempted to stay up until his husband had made it home, but had fallen asleep somewhere after three in the morning, on the chair, without Stephen. When he’d awoken, he’d been moved to their shared bed, although Stephen hadn’t been there, and the spot the doctor would’ve normally slept was cold. He’d been in the kitchen, sure, but his smile and “Good afternoon, dear,” had seemed a little forced.
Tonight had been his breaking point though. At midnight, when there had been no sign of Stephen, and when none of his calls had gone through, and all his texts ignored, Tony had decided to go through his husband’s stuff, trying to find some hint of what was going on. He’d had a small inkling, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it, to believe Stephen capable of such bad things.
Then, he found the iPhone. The pass code was easy enough to figure out, 0529, Tony’s birthday, which seemed like a cruel joke when he found everything on the phone. Text messages, pictures, so many messages between Stephen and his ex-girlfriend and colleague, Christine Palmer. And most of them weren’t exactly innocent. There were pictures sent between the two of them that were far more revealing than anything Tony and Stephen sent each other, even back when they were young and ridiculously in love.
That’s when the iPhone went flying, which was where the crack came from.
And then, he finally broke down and grabbed the hidden Scotch bottle that Tony was pretty sure Stephen had no idea about, and yet Tony hadn’t actually touched years, since deciding to sober up for good. But he needed it for the night, needed to drink the sorrow of his husband of fifteen years cheating on him away.
He must’ve passed out at some point, because the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake.
“Tony, Tony, dear, wake up,” Stephen’s voice called.
“‘Uck off,” Tony slurred in his half-awaken stupor. Nevertheless, he cracked open his eyes, and got used to the dim light that Stephen must’ve turned on. The doctor was standing in front of him, not wearing his scrubs, but a black t-shirt and a pair of not-too-tight jeans that hugged his body perfectly. Tony felt the sudden urge to punch him.
“Tony, why were you drinking?” Stephen asked,
Tony answered by holding the iPhone up, and Stephen’s eyes widened for a moment.
“I can explain-” Stephen started, but the glare Tony was giving him made him stop in his tracks.
“I don’ t’ink I need a splanation,” Tony slurred.
“Look,” Stephen said. “I just...I had to find something to distract me and Christine was there for me when you were off busy with that Parker kid-”
“You t’ink I was cheatin’ on you wi’ Pete?” Tony asked, his eyebrows furrowed. “He’s like, nineteen!”
“And a great deal younger than I am,” Stephen pointed out. “Much more capable of keeping up with you, don’t you agree?”
“I loved you, Stephen,” Tony muttered.
Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, loved?”
Tony didn’t answer him, instead he looked away, hoping Stephen would get the message that way. Indeed, he seemed to of, and the guy sighed. “I never meant to hurt you, Tony.”
“Too late for that,” Tony said, his voice clearly broken, even through the slur the alcohol brought.