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The world was black around him. Tony felt an almost overwhelming pressure on his chest as if the reactor, that he'd had embedded in his chest for so long, was failing once again. It took his breath away, but not in the good way. He struggled, clumsily tried to get away from whatever was hunting him. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't feel, couldn't smell, couldn't taste. All he knew was that something or someone was after him. The knowledge crept in his bones and under his skin like ice and let his blood freeze. He ran even though he couldn't breath and felt close to collapsing, until he stopped dead in his tracks. Tony desperately tried to get his feet to move, to run away, but he was standing as if bolted to the endless black depths underneath him.
Suddenly he was able to open his eyes, and the first thing he saw was the imposing figure of Steve in front of him. He was wearing his Captain America uniform and was shrouded in darkness. It surrounded him like a black veil. His eyes were closed. Tony tried to touch him, to get him to open his eyes, but Steve was out of his reach and no sound was coming from his mouth as he tried to call out for him.
He's my friend.
Steve's eyes were empty as he opened them. The words echoed in Tony's head, even though Steve hadn't even opened his mouth. His dead gaze was locked on Tony and the despise in it was like a punch to the gut.
He's my friend.
The pain in Tony's chest doubled and he nearly toppled over from the sheer force of it. He looked at his chest and realized he was naked. The scar across his chest from where the shield had destroyed his suit was opening up again. Blood was seeping from the wound, leaving crimson traces, forming atrocious patterns, until his chest was one terrifying piece of art. Unable to do anything Tony had to watch how his life left him.
He's my friend.
His vision became blurry and red seeped into it. But through the fog he still saw Steve turning away from him. He didn't glance back at Tony who was still frozen in motion, slowly dying and left behind by the love of his life. A last blood curdling scream fell from his cold lips, but Steve didn't even flinch, like he hadn't heard it at all.
He's my friend.
Coldness surrounded Tony. Emptiness, loneliness and despair embraced him and seemed to drag him down into the black depths, while Steve's figure walked away to slowly fade away…
Tony woke with a choked off scream, cold sweat on his forehead, chest and back. His toes were freezing and he was tangled up in the sheets on the broad bed. With a jolt he sat up. The world was slightly spinning before his eyes and he rubbed his hands over his eyes to clear his mind, while he tried to calm his pounding heart. He was hurting all over, physically and emotionally.
A storm was raging outside. It was nearing noon, but the dark clouds outside hung above the world like a shadow and Friday switched on the lights. Fat raindrops ran down the huge windows and the wind was singing a melancholic song. The city of New York was dull and gray, lifeless and grim.
He rubbed a hand over his aching chest. The scar was still there, huge and ugly. Together with the scar tissue from where the reactor had once been, it did look like straight from a horror movie. At least there was no blood. Absentmindedly he let his fingers wander over his naked torso, mapping out the landscape of scars from countless accidents and fights and surgeries.
When Tony had his breathing back under control, he slowly stood up from the bed to go to the bathroom. He avoided looking in the mirror until he was dressed properly. After washing his face and brushing his teeth he looked up. He looked like shit, with dark circles around his eyes and beard stubble.
The nightmares had increased again. It was autumn. The scars that littered his body were aching in the cold and wet weather and the pain brought back memories that he’d rather forget.
Tony washed his face again, this time with warm water.
He left his ensuite bathroom freshly shaved, in jeans and a long sleeved shirt, feeling more human by the minute, and walked down the hallway of the penthouse to his large kitchen. The nightmare still haunted him. He flinched at every crack of thunder. Today wasn’t a good day.
The fight in Siberia was still a very sore spot. Steve had come to a decision. Tony had never before felt so betrayed, not even when Obadiah had ripped the reactor straight out of his chest. It had taken him a long time to talk to anybody about what had happened there. He’d bottled it all up until he’d crashed and burned. The, admittedly, half-assed attempt at another relationship with Pepper had failed spectacularly. As important as Rhodey was to him, he hadn’t had the guts to tell him everything, after all, his friend needed to concentrate on his own rehab. It had taken him a long few months to finally go and seek help, the flip phone always in his pocket, like an anchor.
An anchor that resembled steadiness but also weighed him down.
Tony reached the kitchen and was pulled from his depressing thoughts by the bubbling sounds of the coffee machine and the cheery voice that called out to him.
“Good morning, Mr Stark!”
Peter sat at the kitchen island, his books and papers and pens surrounding him. It looked like he was doing his homework. He grinned brightly at his mentor and Tony could do nothing but smile back at the teenager.
After the whole fiasco in Germany he’d somehow ended up becoming Peter’s guardian, with May’s consent. He liked the brat, he was smart, brave, geeky and Tony could talk science with him. Sometimes he wondered if this was what having a son felt like. If it was, then Tony didn’t want to miss it ever again. He found himself enjoying the role of a substitute father, liked to show the kid new things and teach him everything he knew.
Peter's presence, his bright nature and cheery attitude was balm for him, and Tony spent more and more time with him. The teenager had been a welcome distraction after everything that had happened between him and Steve, but soon he was more to Tony than an easy way to avoid thinking about that fateful fight. He cared about him, more than he admitted out loud, but the kid seemed to know it anyway.
“Kid. How often do I have to tell you to call me Tony?” He asked with fond sarcasm in his voice. He smiled tiredly at him and ruffled his chestnut brown hair on his way to the coffee machine. “You practically live here. The fridge is filled with your disgusting energy drinks and I find your dirty socks in the hallway. So stop it with the formalities, or you're banned from the workshop for the next week.”
“You should listen to him, Peter. He can be really grumpy sometimes. Did you finish your french homework?” Another voice piped up from the adjoining living room. A voice Tony heard in his dreams and in his nightmares so often that he’d lost count.
“Almost done, thanks for the help.”
Steve stepped into the kitchen. He wore a worn out tee and sweatpants, and was slightly sweaty, probably from his morning exercise. The Captain threw a glance over Peter’s shoulder at his homework, before he came around the kitchen island to face Tony. Their eyes locked and a jolt of something shot through Tony when he felt those blue eyes on him.
Steve stepped closer and reached out for him. Tony froze where he was standing, but then those strong arms pulled him into a gentle hug, full of warmth, comfort and intimacy. He practically melted. Subconsciously Tony realized how Steve pressed a lingering kiss to his temple. His breath wafted over his ear and the engineer buried his head in Steve’s sweaty neck.
“Are you okay? Sweetheart?” The Captain’s voice sounded worried and his arms tightened a fracture around Tony’s figure.
Sweetheart
Lying in the snow in an abandoned ruin in Siberia, Tony had been sure he’d never hear Steve use that word again. The way every syllable was filled with the love they'd shared before the Civil War let his heart swell. Hearing it again was everything Tony had wished for in those long nights that he'd spent alone in his workshop, burying himself with work and avoiding falling asleep. Because he'd known that the moment he'd close his eyes he'd be back there , alone, injured, heartbroken. Those nightmares had been his constant companions in the weeks after their breakup.
It had been a long way back to this new normalcy, for both Tony and Steve.
Many lawyers, trials and court hearings, teleconferences, tears and apologies later, the accords were finally dealt with. The rogue Avengers were allowed to come back to the States without risking a prison sentence, arrangements were made, contracts signed and broken bonds and alliances renewed. The Avengers remained an independent organisation, sponsored by SI and various other organisations and countries, but also responsible for their own mistakes. It was a high-wire act, sure, but the best solution they’d been able to find for the time being.
Having T’Challa and the kingdom of Wakanda on their side had helped a lot. The Black Panther was now a member of the new Avengers, together with Scott Lang and Peter. Well, Peter was still a trainee, but it was the thought that counted.
The mess that was his feelings towards the Winter Soldier was another cup of tea. He couldn’t forgive what Barnes had done, but he could understand that the man was lost in this world. To save his relationship with Steve he was willing to look past what had happened and get him the help he needed. Maybe one day Tony would be able to look at him and forgive him. Maybe then he’d no longer see the cold eyes of a murderer, but the eyes of the long-lost best friend of Steve Rogers, the man he loved. The Captain never stopped apologizing for everything that had happened.
It was the gentle hand which petted his hair, that pulled Tony from the past. Steve’s fingers massaged his scalp tenderly.
“Say it again. Please.” Tony whispered in his lover’s shoulder. He took a deep breath, inhaled the scent of the man he thought he’d lost all those months ago. A shiver shook his body, the memory of his dream still vivid in the back of his mind. Tony didn’t need to explain himself, Steve knew about his nightmares and who was responsible for the PTSD Tony was suffering from.
The way back to a functioning relationship had been stony and long. Betrayal, broken bones and international press being only the tip of the iceberg. But they’d managed it, together, just like the old man said. Tony and Steve had danced around each other like awkwards teenagers, those first few times they’d met after their breakup. It’d been uncomfortable, painful and devastating to see the person they loved so uneasy around oneself.
The dark circles around Steve's sad eyes spoke volumes about his mental state.
Not only Tony had lost the person he'd loved back then in the snow of Siberia.
He had cried himself to sleep more often than he wanted to admit even to himself, but it was worth it, every tear and every sob. Steve was back. Steve was back, and even though it would never again be the same way as before, it was good. It was better than good. They had each other again, and that was what really counted. Steve had come to another decision and he'd chosen Tony over everything else.
“I'm sorry. Sweetheart.”
Steve’s voice washed over him, warm and secure in a world where Tony was sure he was lost. It covered him like a blanket.
“Sweetheart.”
Tony slowly raised his arms to wrap them around Steve’s torso. He could feel his warmth under his fingertips and it slowly chased the cold away that was still lingering in his bones.
“Sweetheart.”
Tony inhaled deeply. The only sounds were the bubbling of the coffee machine, the scratching sound of Peter’s pencil on paper, the storm outside, and Steve’s heartbeat under his ear.
“Sweetheart. It was all a dream. Just a dream. I’m here.”
The looming shadow of the nightmare finally vanished entirely. Tony lifted his head to look into those soft blue eyes that looked at him with so much love that it nearly hurt. Another apology shone brightly in his gaze.
Tenderly, Steve brushed away the stray tear that was running down Tony's cheek. He kissed the wet trail while cupping his face with his strong and yet gentle hands. They remained standing like that for another few minutes, relishing the proximity until Tony felt someone tug on his shirt.
He turned around and found Peter standing next to them, a cup of steaming hot coffee in his hand, offering it to Tony.
“Sorry, Mr Sta- I mean, Tony… I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just… the coffee is gonna get cold.” He mumbled sheepishly.
The teen knew about their relationship, he’d been there all along, helping Tony get back on his feet, when he’d been on the brink of his final breakdown. For a kid he was also exceptionally good at giving shovel talks. Somehow not only Tony had become a father figure to him, but Steve as well. And Steve did a great job at the whole being-a-dad stunt. He cared for Peter and along the way the teenager had gotten another father who looked out for him.
“It’s okay. C’mere.” With a smile on his lips, he pulled Peter into the hug, cautious of the hot coffee. He wrapped his arms around the teen who happily returned the hug, and felt Steve’s arms wrap around both of them.
The small patchwork family stood in the kitchen of Stark Tower, embracing each other. A gangly teenager with superpowers, who ran on energy drinks and sandwiches, a soldier out of time, who belonged to the past and fought to be part of the future, and a broken man with more scars on his body than he could count and a high tech prosthesis.
Tony knew in his heart, that with these people by his side, there was nothing he had to fear. Not even the depths of his own dreams.