Chapter 1
Bucky was out getting groceries when Steve got the call. He hadn't expected it, not now, possibly never. So when suddenly his phone started ringing, he had to dig it up from the back of his closet and then nearly dropped it, when the caller ID said 'Tony Stark' and a wave of anxiety surged through his body.
There was no way Stark was calling him. He'd probably wait until the end of the world to do that. Also Steve kind of really didn't want to talk to him, since they hadn't exactly parted on good terms. Then again, it would be wrong not to answer, since it could always be an emergency. And considering their current 'relationship', it probably was.
But what if it was something really bad? What if somebody was attacking New York again, what if Loki was back – what if Tony was hurt?
He picked up.
For a second or two it was silent on the other end, then a young, unfamiliar voice started speaking, that belonged definitely not to Stark: “Um hello?? Is this Mr. Rogers, Captain America?”
“...who's asking?” His anxiety had very quickly been replaced by confusion.
“Uh my name's Peter and I'm Spiderman, so I know Mr. Stark and you aren't really talking, but you need to come to the tower and … talk. To him.”
“What?? Why?” Was he sick? Injured?? Had something terrible happened? Why was Pepper not there to help?
“Well he's kinda – he's in bad shape.” The kid sighed. “He hasn't left his lab in four days and I don't think he's eaten in that entire time and he keeps mumbling to himself. Mostly something with your name in it. Also I don't think he's been eating properly for some time now.”
Steve was quiet for a moment. Why would Stark say his name? And more importantly, why didn't he eat? “I'll be there tomorrow. Try and get him to eat something.”
“Yeah, sure, of course, Mr. Rogers, Sir!”
“Oh and Peter? You can call me Steve.”
Sure enough, the next day Steve was standing in the lobby of Stark Tower ('It used to be Avengers Tower,' his mind helpfully supplied.). Before he could even think about turning around and leaving again, a scrawny teenager with brown curls approached him, hands fidgeting with his shirt with a science pun on it, a slight blush on his cheeks.
“Hi.”, the kid said, but didn't meet Steve's eyes. “I'm Peter.”
“Hi.” Steve frowned slightly. “How old are you??”
“Fifteen.” Now Peter looked up, squinting slightly. “Tony is in his labs. He still hasn't eaten.”
“Has he slept at least?” The soldier had a feeling that this wasn't the right time to scold Tony – or Peter, for that matter – for letting a child fight thugs. Well those and a few Avengers.
“No.”
The sight of the lab was worrying, to say the least. There were tools and old inventions everywhere, Dumm-E was stuck in a corner between the wall and two tables. In the middle of the room was the newest Iron Man suit, where Tony was standing, apparently trying to repair the damage that Steve had caused with his shield. It didn't look very successful and there were still mangy scrapes and holes in the metal, even though the fight had been several months ago.
Steve cleared his throat. “Um … hi.”
The genius jumped and dropped the screwdriver he'd been holding, but he didn't turn around, just took a deep breath, picked up the tool and returned to his work of staring at the armour.
The solider frowned and walked around the other man, until he was standing in his field of view. “Stark? Peter called me.”
Tony just shook his head, refusing to even look up. Then he made the mistake of lifting his head anyway and at the sight of Steve, tears welled up in his eyes, nearly spilling over. He quickly jerked his head back down again. “Not real.”, he mumbled, barely loud enough for the other man to hear. “Why would he be?? Not important. Focus. Crap. What if he is? Impossible.”
“Mr. Stark, it's really him.”, Peter then said, fighting off his own tears. “I called him.”
“Shit.” Tony ran a hand over his sweaty face, took a few shuddery breaths. Then he turned his head to look at the kid. “Didn't think I'd hallucinate you too, Pete. Didn't think I would.” Suddenly a few dry sobs shook his entire body, until he had himself back under control, now humming to himself.
Steve had gone pale. How had Stark gotten this bad? Why did he think he was hallucinating?? It might be a side-effect of not having slept for five days. Maybe touch would help, something to ground him, to get him back to reality.
So the super-soldier stepped closer, until he was standing directly in front of Tony. The mechanic took a step back, eyeing the other man suspiciously, though he didn't say anything. Just stood there and stared, eyes wide, lips parted. He froze when Steve gently squeezed his shoulder, blinked a few times, opened his mouth to speak. He closed it again without having said a single word. He seemed to be in shock, though the blond wasn't entirely sure why. He just knew that this sight was terrifying and he never wanted to see the other man like this, ever again.
Though maybe Tony didn't want him here. Maybe he was scared, maybe he just couldn't believe that his 'hallucinations' were real. That somebody would actually care enough about him to keep him from killing himself.
“Tony, I'm here. I'm real and I'm here and you need to sleep.” Steve locked eyes with the shorter man and suddenly wished himself far away.
There was so much pain in those brown eyes, so much loneliness and sadness and guilt, and yet they were still warm and loving and Steve knew why they looked like that. He knew who had been the one to put the pain there. He had. He had chosen Bucky over Tony, had left him alone.
He shouldn't have.
“S-Steve?” Again tears welled up in his eyes, except this time they spilled and once they did, they didn't stop. “Why … what are you – sorry.” He lowered his head, but one hand reached up until he was holding on to Steve's arm, fingers digging into his skin. “Sorry.”, he said again, more desperately this time. “Mm … jus' tired.”
It broke Steve's heart to see his colleague, his friend like this, to know that he had worked himself to a breaking point, where he had trouble forming sentences and even holding his eyes open seemed like a struggle.
“I know. That's why Peter called me.” Steve gently put an arm around Tony's shoulder and started leading him out of the lab, giving the kid an encouraging smile. He looked like he could need it. “He was worried about you, you know?” It felt a little bit like he was talking to a child, but the soldier decided that it didn't matter what he sounded like. He had to help his friend now. “He said you didn't sleep or eat, so we're gonna go and sleep now, okay?”
“Why?” The billionaire sounded so confused, so lost. Steve wondered whether he even registered what was going on. “W- … why?”
“Because you need it. You haven't been taking good care of yourself, Tony.” They stepped into the elevator, the genius by now leaning heavily on the taller man. “And I'm sorry I left you, but I'm here now and I'm going to help you, alright?”
Tony actually managed to scoff at that. “Gotta be dreamin' 'gain.”, he mumbled to himself, although his grip on Steve's arm tightened, as if to try and contradict himself. “Gotta be.”
“You're not.” Steve sighed sadly. “C'mon, let's go.” They were just about to leave the elevator, but suddenly Tony's legs gave out and Steve had to catch him, carefully picking him up in one swift motion. “Easy there.”, he murmured, as he carried the other man to his room. Had he always been this light?
Finally they reached the surprisingly small double-bed. By the time the mechanic was lowered onto the mattress, his eyes were closed, he was mumbling incoherent things and he was gripping Steve's shirt like a lifeline.
In this situation Steve wasn't gonna leave Tony alone anyway, so he slipped under the blanket next to the shorter man, softly running a hand through his dark hair, until the genius finally went still. From one moment to the other, he was completely quiet, unmoving and as close to peaceful as he could get. At the moment.
He still looked sad, though. Worn out. If he had ever not been tired? Tired and lonely?
Steve didn't want to think about the honest answer to that question.