Chapter Text
Tony was edgy. There was no denying it – he’d felt anxious and nervous all day, and the rest of the team wasn’t faring much better. Tony could see it in the taut lines marring Bruce’s face or the way Clint was uncharacteristically serious. That Thor had just left them this morning spoke for itself, and even if for an outsider, Natasha would have seemed as calm and collected as ever, Tony had known her long enough to recognize her subtly tense body language. And Steve – well, he and Tony were arguing even on a good day, and since their dear team captain tended to become rather irritable when he was feeling uneasy, Tony was surprised that they hadn’t ripped each other’s heads off. Yet. They’d still have plenty of time to engage in something like that, though, since it had been decided it was better to stay overnight at the Bartons’ farmhouse. (‘It had been decided’ meaning they had voted, resulting in everyone except Tony being in favor of staying. Sure, they wouldn’t have achieved much by heading out at night, and getting some rest was probably the best option to take – assuming one could take a rest after everything that had happened.) Anyway, the point was that Steve would have all night to give him hell about creating a homicidal robot, and Tony was not appreciating that. At all. Especially since they had to share a room. Yeah, that’s right, he was about to spend the night with a stressed out and irritable Steve Rogers who, to top it off, was already pissed at him to begin with. Great. Well, at least Steve, being the team leader, hadn’t decided to take the other guest room for himself and leave him to be roomies with Fury. But that would have been too sadistic for their all-American hero. Probably. Or was it just that Steve enjoyed taking his nervous irritation out on someone who actually deserved it? Either way, Tony was not looking forward to the night as he opened the door to the guest room Clint had pointed them to, Steve right on his heels. Usually, he wasn’t too affected when someone gave him a piece of their mind (it was justified in most cases, after all), but Tony wasn’t sure he could take it today. Not with how tense and anxious and simply exhausted he was. This was not going to be fun.
As soon as they’d entered the room, Steve dropped his stuff on one of the two beds and disappeared into the en suite bathroom without so much as a glance at Tony.
Tony sighed wearily and sat on the other bed, stripping off his jeans and exchanging his button-down for a t-shirt. This wasn’t the first time he was glad everyone stored some spare clothes in the Quinjet, but he’d never thought they’d need sleepwear and all that. Well, first time for everything.
Tony leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes as he waited for his turn to use the bathroom. God, he was tired. There were times when he almost wished he hadn’t started this whole superhero business after coming back from Afghanistan. He could have left it at shutting down the weapons business and enjoying a calm life knowing he was improving the world with his technology. And this right now was one of those moments when he doubted his path of life. He was just making bad decisions all over again. And wasn’t this even worse than building weapons? Guns and missiles didn’t usually have a mind of their own, after all. What if the Avengers couldn’t stop Ultron and he’d wipe out Earth’s population? That would be on him.
Tony swallowed as the images of that witch’s vision flashed before his eyes again. Seeing everyone dead was one of his most terrible nightmares. Still, Fury had been right – the worst part wasn’t even that. God, what if Ultron left him alive to make him watch everyone he had ever cared about die?
The sound of a door opening pulled him out of his thoughts, and Tony was eternally grateful that Steve chose this exact moment to step out of the bathroom. His thoughts were starting to spiral downwards in a sharp descent, and Tony knew he couldn’t let his anxiety take over now. Not at a time like this.
He got up and headed for the en suite, hesitating in the doorway for a moment. He should tell Steve what he’d seen. What if his vision were to come true, and they could have prevented it? Tony swallowed thickly. “Look, Steve-”
Steve, having been about to slip into his bed, tensed visibly and gave a sharp exhale that made Tony fall silent. “Tony… Don’t. Just… don’t say anything right now, okay?” Finally, Steve turned around to meet Tony’s gaze. He looked absolutely worn out, making Tony almost feel guilty about even addressing him.
“I know we need to talk, but now isn’t the right time,” Steve continued, his voice not unkind but leaving no room for arguments either. “We’re tired, and you and I both know that nothing good is gonna come out of us talking things out right now. Let’s just go to sleep and worry about that tomorrow, okay?”
Tony sighed in defeat. He nodded, turning towards the en suite again. Steve did have a point. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
When he re-entered their bedroom five minutes later, Steve was lying under his covers, face turned to the wall. However, the tense outline of his shoulders indicated clearly that he wasn’t asleep yet. When Tony turned off the light and slipped into his own bed, he briefly debated saying something along the lines of ‘goodnight’, but as soon as he’d opened his mouth, he closed it again. It just felt… weird, out of place, to throw around empty words like that when there was so much at stake and even more tension between them.
So Tony just laid down and tried to adjust to the unfamiliar bed and surroundings. He had a feeling that this was going to be a long night.
***
It took Steve a long time to fall asleep. There was simply too much on his mind, even with the exhaustion tearing at his very bones. Across the room, Tony didn’t seem to be faring much better – he was tossing and turning ever since they’d gone to bed, and even though the constant rustling of the sheets only served to annoy Steve on top of his own restlessness, he didn’t have the heart to utter his irritation. Of course there was no denying that Steve was still angry with him, but he knew Tony was probably already beating himself up about his own actions. The way he knew him, it wasn’t that Tony didn’t realize when he made mistakes – he just tended to act over-confident and rash at times without thinking about possible consequences. Not that that was necessarily always a bad character trait – Steve had been witness to Tony’s quick-thinking mind often enough to know that his impulsive decisions usually turned out to be the right call. Still, Ultron was first-hand proof that that wasn’t always the case. If Tony had just talked to his team for once before acting on his decisions, this might have been prevented, and that was what made Steve so angry about the whole matter. He trusted Tony, and even if Steve was well aware that he hadn’t intended to create a murder robot, it felt like a betrayal of his trust.
Steve exhaled silently and willed himself to stop thinking. He should really try and go to sleep. No matter how tomorrow was going to turn out, it was doubtlessly going to be a long day.
He actually managed to doze off after a while, but it wasn’t a restful kind of sleep that claimed him. Steve vaguely remembered dreaming something weird when he was woken from his sleep a few hours later.
He blinked groggily, taking a moment to get his bearings. The room was still mostly dark with only a pale gray shimmer to it which indicated it had to be very early in the morning. The faint light wasn’t what had pulled him from his sleep, however: The room was filled with harsh, labored breaths which cut through the otherwise silent atmosphere. Gosh, they sounded like someone who had just run a marathon or done some other strenuous exercise. Or… someone who was struggling for oxygen? Another noise caught his attention, muffled and very quiet, but nevertheless full of barely concealed distress.
Steve rolled over so he was facing the room and propped himself up on his arm, frowning. “Tony?” he whispered, squinting through the dim light. “Are you awake?”
There was a hitch in the ragged breathing, and Steve’s eyes had finally adjusted enough to see something move on the other bed. Or, rather, flinch: The shape of Tony’s body, sitting up against the wall, jerked violently as Steve’s voice cut through the silence.
“It’s just me,” he reassured quickly, although feeling slightly ridiculous about it. It wasn’t as if anyone else were in the room except Tony and Steve. Still, something wasn’t quite right, and that was more important than rationality right now. “Is everything okay?” (Well, talk about saying silly things. This was even more pointless since everything was obviously not okay.)
“Steve…” was the choked reply he got a moment later, and Steve’s breath caught. He almost doubted that that shaky voice actually belonged to Tony. God, he’d never expected to hear one of his teammates whimper in utter terror, much less Tony of all people. He was always so well-composed and sure of himself, never backing down even in the face of mortal danger. And hearing this very man terrified out of his mind over something Steve didn’t know was deeply unsettling.
Steve folded his cover back and sat up in concern. “Hey, what’s wrong? Hold on, I’m coming over to you, okay?” He was mildly surprised when Tony actually nodded, almost having been expecting objection, but he pushed the thought aside in order to cross the room and slowly sit on the edge of the other bed. At this distance, he could see that Tony was rigid, his knees pulled to his chest and his entire body shaking like a leaf. His right hand was clawing into his shirt over his chest, the other arm wrapped around his shins. Even in the twilight, there were tear tracks visible on his face.
Steve’s heart clenched. What for Heaven’s sake was going on? He reached out to put a hand on Tony’s shoulder, careful to make the movement slow and visible. Tony didn’t tense further, which Steve took as a positive sign. At a lack of something better to do, he squeezed gently and began to slowly move his thumb back and forth. He hoped the touch was somewhat comforting. “Tony, can you talk to me? What happened?”
Tony’s eyes, wide and pained and so, so terrified, met his, and he finally managed to gasp out, “Panic attack. I think. Steve, I-” He let his forehead fall onto his knees. “God.” His fingers tightened on his own chest with what had to be bruising force.
Steve resisted the urge to force Tony’s hand away. It pained him eternally to see him hurt himself physically in an attempt to distract himself from his terror. Still, Steve realized he’d probably not help by taking away this form of relief, and a few bruises wouldn’t kill Tony if this helped him ground himself.
So Steve took Tony’s other hand in his, running his thumb over the back of it much like he did on his shoulder. Tony’s fingers were icy cold and clammy. He returned the grip only loosely at first, as if fearing he might hurt Steve, or maybe simply uncomfortable with holding anyone’s hand. But after a moment, his fingers tightened around Steve’s.
Steve assumed the best he could do in this situation was probably simply to stay by Tony’s side. Still, he couldn’t be sure. “Is there anything I can do?”
Tony only shook his head without raising it from his knees.
Steve nodded, even though Tony probably couldn’t see it from his position. “Okay. Just take your time, it’s gonna be okay.” Empty words – that’s all they were. But Steve felt helpless. He just didn’t know how to deal with a situation like this. Was he doing the right thing? Should he tell Tony to try and breathe more slowly or would that just make him feel pressured? Should he get someone else? Steve and Tony weren’t exactly the closest on the team, and right now, with Ultron happening, even less so. Tony would doubtlessly be more comfortable with Bruce by his side, or Natasha. They’d possibly even know a way to help. God, Steve felt so small and young again. Like the scrawny kid from Brooklyn who’d try to take on some bullies, knowing he’d fail and hopefully be rescued by Bucky. Only that there were neither bullies to beat up nor his old pal to save his bottom right now. Instead, he had a friend experiencing a severe panic attack by his side and no idea how to proceed.
So for the next minutes, Steve just remained silent, slowly running his thumb over Tony’s shoulder. The only thing he was absolutely sure about was that he couldn’t let his own helplessness and worry show. Tony kept sucking in desperate breaths, shoulders heaving with the strain of it. At some point, his gasps turned even more unsteady, and Steve knew he was crying. His heart ached for Tony. Seeing a proud and brave man like him cry from pure fear felt like being stabbed in the chest with a searing hot knife.
But finally, finally, Tony’s breathing calmed down to a closer to normal rate. Slowly, he raised his head and ran the hand that wasn’t currently holding Steve’s over his face.
“Are you… okay? Or better at least?” Steve inquired carefully, just to be sure (and, quite frankly, because he had no idea what else to say).
Tony nodded, still hiding his face in his palm. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat as the word came out hoarse and weak. “Yeah. Thanks. I… Sorry. I really didn’t mean to-”
But Steve shook his head and took advantage of the fact that Tony still hadn’t let go of his hand by squeezing it gently. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. And this is nothing you could help, is it?”
But Tony also shook his head, finally looking up at him. His eyes were red and his face pale. He looked absolutely dreadful. “No, I mean-” He had to clear his throat again as his voice broke. “I mean sorry about everything. Not just now. About Ultron. I know it was a stupid thing to do, but at the time…” He trailed off and clenched his jaw.
Steve sighed. He really didn’t think they should talk about this right now, but now that Tony had brought it up, deflecting would probably just make everything worse. “Tony… Of course you and Bruce didn’t mean for Ultron to turn out the way he did. I know that. I know you. But that’s not even the point. We’re all allowed to make mistakes. I’m angry because you had to be aware that it was an unnecessary risk you took by creating something like that. You didn’t even talk to us about what you were about to do. Don’t get me wrong, Tony, I really don’t want to lecture you about this thing right now. But I just can’t understand what drove you to do this in the first place, and that’s what makes me so frustrated. There was no need to create Ultron, but you did it anyway. I just want to know why, Tony.” Steve had intended to phrase his words more gentle than the last time they’d talked about this, but when Tony’s breathing started to pick up again, he feared too much of his frustration had bled though his voice. He had been right – they shouldn’t be talking about Ultron when Tony’s nerves were already scraped raw by his panic attack.
So before Tony could muster up an answer and possibly grow more distressed, Steve squeezed his shoulder. “We don’t have to talk about this right now. I just wanted you to know that I’m not disappointed in what you did but rather frustrated because I don’t understand the reason why you did it. We can have this conversation when all of this is over.”
Tony let go of Steve’s hand and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, elbows on his knees. He nodded, letting out a shaky breath, but didn’t reply.
Steve’s brow creased. “Are you all right?”
Tony somehow managed to nod and shake his head at the same time. “Yeah. No. I don’t know. I feel sick.”
Steve nodded understandingly. He knew the feeling of stress and adrenaline finally receding, leaving you shaky and nauseous. However, he had a hunch that Tony was even more familiar with it. Coming to a quick decision, Steve got up and held his hand out for Tony to follow his example. “Come on. How about we go to the kitchen and get you a glass of water?”
Tony hesitated but seemed to realize that staying cramped up in this room until morning wouldn’t make him feel any better. So he nodded tiredly and allowed Steve to help him to his feet.