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A flicker of blue in the circle on his chest and the dim glow that lit up the world went dark.
Steve watched as Peter said goodbye, as Pepper held him in her arms. How bad he wished to go to Tony, Steve wouldn’t dare admit. He didn’t deserve to see him, speak with him after all he’s done.
But Steve watched.
And when everyone began to get on their knees, Steve’s chest began to constrict. A cascading effect that burst through his whole body. He felt the thickness travel up his chest and throat, catching with sheer willpower behind his dry tongue.
Captain America didn’t cry.
Steve swallowed nothing, a dry and difficult thing to do. He did it again to keep the sobs down, but he fell to his knees with a poof of dirt around his uniform.
He took off his helmet with shaking hands and gripped it firmly in his fists. He wanted to scream and run to the carcass leaning against the rubble. He couldn’t even see anymore, the previous sounds of battle echoed in the silence around them.
How long he remained in the dirt, Steve didn’t know, but when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder, he forces himself to look up.
“Go home, Steve. Get some rest.” Rhodes said, tear lines framing his weathered face.
So steve stood, one foot in front of the other as he walked. Looking down, he saw the crushed helmet in between his hands, so tight they shook. He didn’t move them.
Still in his dirt and blood caked uniform, he drove to his apartment. Autopilot was clicked on as he drove, and he didn’t even realize it when he pulled into the parking space.
Steve placed one foot out of the car, but it couldn’t hold his weight so he collapsed into the grass. His knees dig into the earth, hands violently shaking as they claw into it. The thought that he was In public didn’t cross his mind as his mouth opened to let out a scream.
And though he felt the brick in his throat, no noise escaped his cracked lips. He was frozen in position, bloody saliva dripping from his open mouth. His head and shoulders violently quivered as his elbows landed on the soil.
His stomach turned over, feeling like a braided piece of twine submerged deep in his soul. Steve felt the bile rising in his stomach, and hurled forward to vomit.
Steve squinted his eyes, the unshed tears making small pools in the corners of his eyelids.
It should have been me, his brain told him as he hurled again. I was never worthy of him.
Still shaking, he managed to crawl painfully slowly to his door and open it. Hauling his broken body to the grey rug below the sofa, he made one futile attempt to restrain the floodgates, a sharp and demanding headache straining behind his eyes.
I needed you, and you weren’t there.
He had been holding his breath, trying to hold back the tears, so when he finally made the attempt for oxygen a gasp came from his mouth.
That’s when the tears fell. Blinding pain behind his eyes, and a throbbing underneath his ribs the sobs flowed unrelenting down his dirt-stained cheeks. Hot drops of water cascaded onto the carpet as he dug his fists into it. Finally, as his shoulders heaved up and down, he let out a blood-curdling scream.
I said we’d lose, and you said “we'll do that together too” well guess what. We lost. And you weren’t there.
Steve made a desperate gasp for breath, but another wail escaped instead. His lungs ached, his headache blazed, and so Steve reached clumsily for a pillow on the couch and wrapped his pitiful frame around it like a lifeline.
His mind reeled with guilt and shame. He should have never left the avengers. He shouldn’t have let himself fall for Tony. He should have- a dry heave forced its way through his gasps for air- he should have done a lot of things.
Finally, many hours later, Steve blacked out on the carpet, clutching the pillow with no shred of humanity left inside his aching body.
When he woke, darkness cascaded around the living room. Slowly, he began to feel the pain flooding through his body, up to his legs and swirling in his chest. The intensity only got worse as it reached his head, which throbbed from the violent display.
He pried his own hands from the grime stained pillow and stood, stumbling blindly to the bathroom. He turned the shower all the way up, and when he began to scrub the scum from his body, his skin burned in agony.
His own thoughts were driven below the surface by his blistering headache. Steve was thankful.
Why did you let yourself fail? Why weren’t you good enough to save him. How could you be so foolish as to fall for him?
With a burst of rage, steve slammed his clenched fist into the wall of his bathroom. It came back bloody and torn but he punched again. The pain gave him a rush,
You deserve this. His mind told him as he did it again pain is all you should know . The punches reeled like clockwork, his hands ripping more and more with each punch until he finally stopped, and let himself collapse on the floor.
Tony stark was dead. And there was nothing he could do about it.
Steve drew his knees closer to his chest and cradled himself like a child. How badly he wished he could get drunk, but of the curse, his serum, would never allow it. He would die of alcohol poisoning first. For one pitiful moment, his battered hands flinched at the notion of ending it all, but his gut told him otherwise and immediately he was overwhelmed by guilt.
Feeling wet lines like slugs fall down his face, Steve leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
“You’re kidding me, Barton, we have to do what now?” Tony asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Look, there’s only one bed left and nothing I can do about it,” Clint said, directing him to the bedroom on the first floor.
“All right Spangles, don’t get any ideas” Tony joked, waltzing into their bedroom and sitting on the mattress.
Steve stood frozen like an idiot, not sure what to do, but able to hear his blood roaring through his ears.
“Steve,” Tony said, peeling off his jeans “it’s been a long day, just sleep.”
Suddenly realizing he was still in his uniform, he turned around awkwardly and pulled off his clothes.
“Dibs on the left side,” Tony called, voice muffled in the pillow.
Cautiously, Steve stepped in bed and pulled the covers around him. He scooted as far as possible from Tony in fear and could feel a breeze on his foot where it popped off the side.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the air as the minutes ticked by. Steve wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what. When he finally drifted into a light sleep, he was woken abruptly by the man next to him.
Tony had jerked violently awake and Steve could hear his frantic panting.
“Tony?” Steve asked quietly. “Are you-“ he began to say, but tony rolled over suddenly. In the gentle moonlight streaming from the windows, Steve could see the tears streaming from his face. Cautiously, Tony placed his hand over Steve’s heart and felt it beat.
Steve gently covered the hand with his own and scooted slightly closer to him.
Minutes ticked by and Tony’s breathing calmed down.
“Sorry cap, bad dream. You know, the works.” Tony said, voice raspy.
“We all get them.” Steve swallowed.
A slight pause, “what are yours about?” Tony asked.
Watching you fall from the sky to the ground, not being able to save you, Steve wanted to say. “New York,” he said instead. “Germany.”
Tony pulled him closer, and then they were curled into each other. “You falling from the portal.”
Dark brown eyes stared into Steve’s, and his breath caught in his throat. Tony cradled his face with one hand and timidly brought their noses together, brushing as lightly as waves hitting the sand. “I dream about you crashing the plane, Steve,” Tony whispered, almost inaudible.
“I don’t know-“ Tony faltered,” this is only going to end badly, Steve. Last chance to back out.”
Without a breath of hesitation, he shook his head. And then Tony’s lips were on his, and Steve’s heart soared through the sky as he kissed back, if only for a moment before Tony pulled away and settled into his neck.
A gross sob escaped Steve’s throat. A loud, grotesque thing that did not remain alone as he trembled, naked on the bathroom floor. If he pressed his eyes so they went blurry behind the lids, he could almost feel a comforting body wrapped around his. A gentle whisper that everything would be ok.
His throat burned and churned as the sobs escaped him once again, failing to let him breathe at all. He continued on, pounding the floor with his fist until finally, Steve pulled his ass off the floor and looked in the mirror.
His reflection was one of a broken man. His soaked hair was thrown in every which direction, his usually shaved beard had grown an uneven stubble around the gashes in his face.
He hadn’t treated them last night and they would scar. Steve couldn’t care less.
His body was covered in scrapes and bruises, some he could probably use stitches for but didn’t bother to fix. Standing was a chore, and his legs began to wobble.
Slowly but surely he pulled himself into his old bedroom and lumped across the sheets. He crawled underneath them as fast as possible and curled into himself.
You are Captain America. His brain told him. People need help and your crying like a coward for a man who you never deserved.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled Steve down into its depths and he fell asleep.
“You want to hand me that?” Tony asked, gesturing toward a screwdriver. Steve places down his pencil and handed it over.
“Thanks, capsicle.”
Steve snorted at the name.
“I’m almost done here, we can head up and grab a bite,” Tony said, installing a screw.
“Sure,” was how Steve responded, a grin on his face.
“What,” Tony said, dramatically dropping the tool, “why are you smiling. Do I have grease on my
nose?” He asked, coming closer and joining Steve in the smile.
“In a good mood.”
“I know better than that Rogers. Spill.”
Steve leaned in and quickly kissed him.
“Alright, I’ll accept that as an answer” Tony smirked.
The dream shifted
“He was my friend,” Steve said through pants
“So was I,” Tony said, pain written all over his face. And then they fought, and Steve's heart broke along with the reactor he shoved his shield into.
A shift again
Steve practically sprinted to the open field where the ship was landing. With bated breath, he watched as the door opened and a broken, tired version on the man he loved hobbled down the ramp.
Steve didn’t wait, he sprinted to Tony and caught the man in his arms. He sniffed deeply into his hair, and for a moment it was like they were still young and in love, and Steve hadn’t betrayed him. Tony seemed to feel the same way, as he held on to Steve just as tightly.
“I lost the kid,” he said, sadder than Steve had ever seen him.
“We all lost,” Steve replied, meaning much more in the words he spoke.
Then Tony was ripped away from him as Pepper, the woman he loved, caught him instead. He watched from a distance as she kissed him and he kissed back, a guilty sense of shame punches his gut.
He was hers, and Steve told himself it was better off this way.
The dream shifts
A solution. They can solve it and bring everyone back, but he has to speak to Tony.
He had gone to their wedding a year ago, but the whole time he sat there his throat and forehead throbbed from the attempt to hold back his sorrow.
He locked eyes with Tony during the ceremony but quickly glanced away.
Now Steve steps out of the car and walks, seemingly as confident as ever, to the front porch.
“I’m happy for you Tony, really,” Steve said, and he meant it. A family was what Tony deserved. A wife and child that loved him. Not Steve, the betrayer.
shift
He and tony are alone in the workshop, late that night working on the design for the suits. The tension was thick in the air. Steve shifted on his stool.
“So here we are again,” Tony said.
Steve didn’t react.
“I suppose I should come up with some sarcastic-“
“I’m still in love with you,” Steve interrupted, not sure where the words came from. “God I love you so much.” Steve ran a hand over his face.
Tony’s expression melted and he dropped the scissors he was holding to the ground with a clash. Gripping the table to steady himself, Tony shakily replies “that ship sailed a long time ago.”
“I know, I know. “ Steve said, grabbing his sweatshirt, “ I shouldn’t have come down here.”
But Tony grabs his arm on the way out and looks into Steve’s eyes in a way that makes him fall all over again. Slowly, he pulls Steve into a hug and kisses the side of his lips.
“I’m so sorry Tony,” Steve gasped, his voice nearly inaudible.
Tony stroked the back of his hair gently, and Steve had to swallow down tears “I know.”
Dream switch.
Tony’s broken body, on the ground, out of his reach.
Steve sat bolt up in bed, the sheets around him coated in sweat. He stumbled to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet, not that there was anything left for him to bring up. The funeral was today, in a few hours.
Steve stood and dressed with trembling hands. He shaved, and cut himself a few times but he left his apartment on time to make it to the cabin.
Morgan and Pepper walked hand in hand down to the lake with a wreath, and the guiltiest part of Steve’s brain wished he could have walked with them. He stood with his head held high.
He was Captain America, after all.
There was a small dinner after the ceremony in the cabin and Steve hung around in the corners. He wanted to leave this house, the one that reminded him so much of what he could have had. He wanted to drink, regardless of the effects (or lack thereof)
Pepper walked over to him in a long black dress at the end of it all.
“Steve, can we talk?” She asked, sadness in her voice.
Steve's heart raced, what if she knew? He would never be allowed to see Morgan again, maybe that would be for the better, he didn’t deserve to see her any-
“Stop thinking.” She said, reading his thoughts.
She lead them into Tony’s workshop downstairs, the room that most reminded Steve of him in the whole house. They sat next to each other on the couch and Pepper sniffed her nose.
“I know, Steve. I know you were in love with him”
Steve swallowed “Pepper. I-“
“He loved you too. More than he was ever capable of loving me.” She gave him a sad smile.
Steve remained speechless.
“I just wanted you to know,” her voice broke “because he would have wanted you to.”
Steve’s throat constricted and his gut began to burn. He bit down hard on his jaw to hold in the tears. “Thank you, Pepper,” he choked out.
And then she began to cry, sobs like the ones he had given earlier. With her cries lead him to his own and so they held each other in their arms and cried over the man they loved.
Steve Rogers would never be ok again. But maybe he would survive.