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Tony was… well, confused wasn’t the right word. Not really. Because when he was in bed scrolling through social media first thing in the morning and started seeing his friends’ posts online, he had an inkling as to what they implied, but he could only wish that he was wrong.
It started with Pepper’s I was 21, then Natasha’s I was 16, then Maria’s I was 30, then Rhodey’s I was 18, and then Steve’s I was 24. When Tony read the influx of I love you and you are so fucking strong in their replies, he instantly felt a deep ache in his chest. Before he even realized what he was doing, Tony was staring down at the phone in his hands, the corners of the screen cracked and not yet replaced; the words I was 9 were drafted on his timeline. The cursor blinked at him innocently, and his thumb hovered just over the button that would instantaneously share his secret out to the world.
Frankly, he hadn’t thought about it in years. Decades, maybe. In between becoming Iron Man and fighting alongside the Avengers and keeping Stark Industries afloat and spending time with his partner, it wasn’t like he had the luxury of time to have fallen back into dwelling on his past traumas like he used to do. Despite being known as incredibly outspoken both in and out of his suits, this was a secret, ironically, that he had never been brave enough to voice out loud.
The initial twinge in his chest turned into a constricting pain over his heart and an uneasy feeling in his stomach, and still the cursor continued blinking. His shoulders were tense, his jaw was clenched tight, and his breathing started coming in shallow. As Tony continued to stare at the screen in his hands, he wasn’t sure if he was brave enough to do even this. To follow behind his friends in solidarity. To let himself be vulnerable. To grieve innocence lost and finally move on from something plaguing him for more years than he could remember.
His breath hitched in his throat as he started hyperventilating. A pressure started behind his eyes and nose, hot tears blurring his vision as they came. Flashes of memories that Tony had locked away in his subconscious danced behind his eyelids – strange hands and tainted words and defiled feelings that he’d once forgotten – and he cried.
Tony threw himself back into his bed, grabbing a pillow to hopefully muffle the heavy sobs that racked through his whole body. He had to calm down. Fuck, he was being stupid. No one was going to hurt him anymore. Nobody could. Not when James was only yards away, singing off-key to himself as he showered in their en suite bathroom. Tony made an attempt to level his breathing, as shaky as it was, but the ache was slowly filling his bones now.
He couldn’t stop sobbing, and the edge of the comforter that he’d bit into did little to stifle the noise. Tony couldn’t breathe; his chest hurt where his Arc Reactor used to be, and he couldn’t even hold onto the chill of its old, familiar casing to ground himself like before. He didn’t realize that James was finished with his shower until the man was already opening up the bathroom door, dressed in his plain t-shirt and sweatpants.
James’s voice sounded both surprised and worried as he said, “Tony? Shit – Tony, what happened?” The only response was another stifled sob, an attempt and failure to stop crying yet again.
Tony heard rather than saw James cross the floor. He hesitated at Tony’s side, leaning one knee on the mattress. Gently, he inquired, “Is it – can I touch you? I just… Baby, whatever it is, I’m here, okay?”
Tony turned to face him, blinking away the wetness in his eyes and wiping away the snot on his face with the back of his hand. He opened up his arms in answer, welcoming comfort from his partner. James settled into his embrace, a warm and solid weight laying beside him; he murmured sweet nothings into Tony’s hairline, wrapping his flesh arm tightly around his shoulders.
There was the sound of a hand shifting between the sheets. The sound of a phone being slid onto the bedside table. The sound of a quiet, knowing sigh that escaped James’s lips. His breaths were slow and even, and Tony focused on matching them with his own, unstable ones. It was enough to calm him down a bit.
“Are you ready to talk about it?” James asked, nosing at his temple. At Tony’s shake of the head, he offered, “That’s okay. Don’t say anything. Just listen to my voice, alright?
“What are five things you can see?”
Tony sniffed, lifting his head slightly to throw a look at his partner. Seriously?
James pressed the pad of his finger to the slight wrinkle between Tony’s brows, teasing, “Don’t look at me like that. Come on. Five things.”
Begrudgingly, Tony rubbed at his eyes. His gaze panned from James to around the room, searching: The red pillowcases beneath them. A half-empty bottle of ibuprofen on the bedside table. His phone lying face-down beside it. A couple of rogue socks sitting at the opening of their shared closet. The color of James’s eyes, steely blue but warm as they looked into Tony’s.
“How about four things you can feel?” James continued, moving his other arm around so he could slip his metal hand beneath the hem of Tony’s shirt.
James’s hair, still cold and wet from his shower. His hand, cool and firm on his skin. The material of his socks, warm over his feet. The hot air coming in front the vents on the ceiling.
“Three things you can hear.” He started drawing soothing circles against Tony’s back.
Tony could hear his own breathing, shaky and stuttering in his chest. James’s voice, like smooth velvet. The blood pumping through his ears.
“Two things you can smell,” James whispered.
The cinnamon spice of James’s body wash. The mint from his toothpaste.
Feeling more grounded, Tony realized his breaths came in easier. Reaching up to cup James’s face between his hands, Tony moved to be at his eye level. They stared at each other for a full minute, silent, merely enjoying each other’s comforting presence. Tony brushed his thumbs across James cheeks, who returned a smile when Tony’s lips curved up slowly.
“And one thing I can taste,” Tony finished, leaning forward to fit his mouth over his partner’s. He pulled away slightly, lips still touching lightly. Against James’s lips he said sincerely, “Thank you.”
“I love you.” He smiled, leaning up to press a firm kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll always be here.”
The beating of James’s heart against his ear was a steady rhythm that Tony focused on. And as he settled into James’s side, with their arms still firmly wrapped around each other, Tony knew that his word was a promise.
