Work Text:
Tony gazed lazily at the pile of papers on his desk. Unwilling to be productive yet equally unwilling to leave his workshop he sat down and tried to sort through the mess. With Pepper gone he was beginning to feel the full weight of running a company by himself again. He had done it years ago but to be honest, he was beginning to feel his ever more noticeable age creeping up on him. He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair
“JARVIS, call Rubirosa’s and order a medium meat lovers’ pizza,” Tony grunted.
“Mr. Stark, remember that Rubirosa asked you to stop using me to order pizza” the automated voice rang in the large workshop.
“JARVIS, I can't do this with you right now. Just order the damn pizza,” Tony exasperatedly shot back
Sighing Tony shifted through old files in his drawer. He couldn’t remember why he had so many paper files; he made a mental note to put them in his online folders. Almost at the end of the pile he stopped shifting and grasped a file clearly marked Steve Rogers. Emotion came rushing back, and he remembered the events of five years ago when after a vicious fight tore the avengers apart. In the end, Steve apologized but he Tony had been too egotistical to and neither accepted the apology or made amends of any kind. He had locked himself in Stark Tower and refused to speak to anyone for months, consumed in his own regrets and self-loathing. Almost reluctantly he pulled out the file and flipped it open. Laughing slightly to himself when a picture of Steve paper-clipped to it has a curly mustache drawn on it, he remembered how after he drew on the picture Fury had refused to take the the file back, leaving it with Tony.
“Sir, your pizza has arrived” JARVIS announced
Tony headed upstairs paid the scrappy boy who brought the pizza and collapsed on the couch inhaling the pizza smell as he tried to sort through his conflicted thoughts. Upon making his decision he paced the room as a warm staticy feeling rose through his body. It’s now or never he thought to himself. Tony set the pizza on a table and reached into his pocket and pulled out his Vivo phone, scrolling through his contacts until he reached Steve Rogers. He held the phone to his ear and apprehensively waited as the phone rang. After what seemed like an eternity, he released his breath in a sharp huff as he was sent to voicemail. Pissed, Tony quickly hung up. Tony scowled disbelieving that after all these years, when he had finally worked up the courage to call, Steve had the audacity to not answer or even set up a decent voicemail (even thought that probably wasn't his fault, the guy wasn't that tech savy). Half of Tony just wanted that to be the end. He would never apologize to or see Steve again. It had to happen now. Before he backed out of it again.
“JARVIS, find Steve Rogers.”
A minute later JARVIS responded, “Steve Rogers is unable to be located”
Confused Tony continued down the flight of stairs to his lab and sat in front of his computer. JARVIS was right: even with all of Tony's high tech, he was unable to locate the one person to whom Tony actually wanted to talk. Unbelievable. He hunched forward and rested his head in his hands, sighing. Where could Steve possibly be? Almost simultaneously, his cell buzzed and started playing the Star Wars theme song.
Hopeful, he snatched it up and answered it with a sarcastic, “Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”
A raspy voice responded...definitely not Steve.
“What do you want, Stark?”
The voice was somewhat familiar but had a tone that suggested that Tony was not his favorite person in the world.
“I don't know who you are, but I really need to talk to Steve right now, can you put him on?”
The stranger replied with a curt, “No,” and the line went dead.
Fuming, Tony tore his eyes away from the ended call message on his phone and pulled up the caller’s address on the computer.
“JARVIS, put the coordinates into the suit’s GPS, I'm going out tonight.”
Tony spun around on the chair and strode across the room to the platform, simultaneously pressing a button on his watch. The flying pieces of metal contacted with his body bringing back a feeling of nostalgia and excitement. In just a few hours, he would see Steve again. For the first time in almost five years, Tony flew away from Stark Tower. He soared high above, out of the bright city lights into the specked lights of the suburbs, then into a dense forest in southern Vermont. Snow covered the ground and fell from the trees as he took in the scene. He understood why Steve had chosen to live in Vermont for the past five years; the trees were dense and about one hundred feet from him was a cabin, secluded and silent. He could just picture the super soldier sitting on the beaten up porch reading WWII books, strolling through the silent woods, maybe chopping down trees. Tony eagerly approached the cabin. A soft warm light protruded from the windows. He drew in a long breath before rapping on the door with his knuckles. He had left his suit in the trees so Steve wouldn't feel threatened, and was wearing just a black t-shirt and jeans that had seen their share of wear and tear in Tony’s workshop. He heard floorboards creak as Steve approached the door. The door flung open to reveal the barrel of a gun being held by a one armed man.
“Bucky?” Tony questioned profoundly confused.
“Stark?” Bucky rasped lowering the weapon.
“Where is Steve?” Tony demanded.
Bucky gave a curt nod and exited the house. Tony followed. Bucky lead him back behind the cabin and near the edge of the clearing close to the thick woods. Tony scanned the trees for Steve then shook his head trying to clear his delusional state of mind. He knew what was coming and it scared the hell out of him. Trying to keep a straight face, Tony almost ran into Bucky, who had suddenly stopped and was gazing at a rock on the ground. Shifting his gaze down, Tony sank to his knees, shoulders slumped forward to sweep the light layer of snow off the grave. It read,
- Steve Rogers, 1920-2019 Fighter, friend and hero -
Steve had died two years ago and he never noticed. He never apologized. He never told Steve the truth. The body heat left him, and tears silently streamed down his as he realized what he had done. His pride and vanity had kept him locked up for five years and now it was too late. Tony clenched his fists and his body shook with grieving. He felt a warm arm around his shoulders lead him back to the light and warmth of the cabin. He felt a warm breath near his ear.
Bucky whispered, “He made me promise to look after you.”
The one hundred and three year old soldiers strong arm guided Tony away from the grave. Tony tripped in the snow and fell on all fours. Bucky quickly bent to help him, but Tony slapped away the sympathy. He got up staggering slightly to the left, avoiding Bucky's gaze. Slowly, he turned around, staring into Bucky’s eyes.
“Tell me everything.”