Work Text:
03:27
The red angry numbers of the clock burned into his head, mocking him. Another restless night, another night haunted by the bittersweet taste of insomnia, forcing him to stay awake. His body turning and twisting in the sweat-soaked sheets.
God, get a fucking grip on yourself, his mind demanded. Heart beating at a high frequency, threatening to choke him, suffocate him. The swift smell of something familiar caught his senses, lulling him into the illusion of safety and love. Home.
A hand reached out to grab at something long gone. His finger fisting a pillowcase that was not his, to begin with, pressing it to his chest. It was usually tucked away into the depths of the crack between the mattress and the headboard. Buried away for no one to know and no one to see.
Which was his safe haven once, now left a bitter taste of betrayal in his mouth. Or was it the rising bile? He shoved the fabric of the pillowcase as far away from him as possible and leaned over the edge of the bed, throwing up some stomach acid since there was not anything else there. His stomach hadn’t seen food in ages.
Great, another stained carpet.
With a groan, he got up from the bed. It was no use staying in that godforsaken bed. He wouldn’t catch any sleep anytime soon anyway.
His limbs were aching as he made his way down to the kitchen, ignoring the mess he made on the floor. He would take care of it later. Tony slumped on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, burying his face in his hands.
So that’s what his life had come to. Not sleeping, not eating, living on coffee and anxiety pills and working himself to death to get the people, he once considered family, excused. To get him excused. Steve Rogers. Captain America. Mister Righteous. Tony’s Husband.
He is my friend.
S o was I.
And so much more, he wanted to say but did not, because the next thing he knew was Steve straddling him and bringing his shield down, over and over again, aiming for the head and arc reactor. A murderous look in his eyes.
I love you.
Did you know? Yes.
You look beautiful when you smile like that. Like you don’t care what others might think about you.
Is everything a joke to you?
You know, you are nothing what the media says about you. You are one of the most caring and loving people I have met. You gave me a home. You are my home.
I know men worth ten of you.
Will you marry me?
What a fool he had been to believe him all the times he whispered I love you in his ear. All the times he cradled his face and looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world. All the times he called him all kinds of adorable pet names in front of the others. Gorgeous, handsome, dear, my love.
A shattering, muffled scream rang through the empty room, followed by a silent sob. Oh, it was his own voice, which produced such noises. Pathetic. That’s why you weren’t good enough for the Captain. That’s why he chose him over you. That’s why everyone always leaves you.
No, that’s not true. Don’t be a selfish asshole, Stark. Jarvis didn’t leave you because he wanted to, but because he passed away. Pepper didn’t leave you, she is just busy running your business. Rhodey didn’t leave you, he is concentrating on rehab.
Tears were streaming down his cheeks, making his vision blurry but he knew where the whiskey was stashed away. He knew exactly where he would find the expensive alcohol. He hid it there, for emergencies. Was feeling like dying an emergency?
With shaky hands, he opened one of the cupboards and shoved packages of pop tarts away. He once bought about twenty packages for Thor, because the God loved them. But Thor had been gone for a while now and so was Bruce so who would even care when he made a mess.
Behind the various boxes, he found what he was looking for. A bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag.
Tony wiped the tears away as he sunk down on the floor. His back against the kitchen counter, the alcohol pressed to his chest. A long time ago he promised Steve to work on his relationship with the deathly liquor, but Steve wasn’t here anymore and all he had left was the pale imprint of a circle around his ring finger, where once a golden wedding band decorated his hand.
He unscrewed the cap of the bottle and took a swig. It washed the taste of bile away but burned just as much. It warmed his insides for a moment, and for a second it felt like the way Steve once made him feel. All warm and tingly. Even more tears pooled in his eyes, threating to spill.
Suddenly he wondered why FRIDAY was being so silent. She usually had a snarky remark about his alcohol consumption. Oh right, he muted her a day ago because she advised him to seek help because he was showing signs of a panic attack. Stupid, he knew how to handle them.
Another gulp and another hurtful memory flooded his mind. The last time he got blackout drunk FRIDAY informed the kid who came running to him, fussing over him and taking care of him. The boy carried him to bed, wiped his mouth after Tony vomited his guts out and watched over him the whole night, not wanting for his mentor to choke to death in his sleep. He wouldn’t lose another father-figure. Tony was supposed to be the one who took care of Peter, not the other way around. That’s what he promised May at least. He didn’t get in touch with the kid after that incident, way too embarrassed to face Peter and see that pity in his eyes.
It wasn’t difficult, to begin with since he shattered his phone after Pepper called him. Her voice was laced with worry as she asked him how he was doing after the fallout of what the media called the Civil War. But really it was just a big disagreement between Cap and him. A disagreement and lack of communication. She didn’t even know what exactly happened in Siberia. All she knew was that he came back with hypothermia, a shattered arc reactor, broken bones, and punctured lungs, losing blood on a dangerous level and barely holding on to life. The doctors said it was a miracle that he survived. So Pepper being ever the concerned one asked him how he was holding up. He told her he was doing fine, ended the call and threw the phone at the nearest wall. Angry at himself for lying to her like that, for not being able, to be honest. Never being able to tell anyone how he really felt. Howard’s legacy.
Steve always knew how he felt, even without Tony telling him. He just knew. But Steve wasn’t here, and Steve didn’t care anymore. Did he ever care at all?
Tony gulped down even more of the whiskey. Numbing not only his aching heart but also silencing his racing thoughts.