#NTASG is still gonna happen and that's all that matters

[lovinthepizzalife]

1975

There's a look on Cap's face that Tony can't quite decipher, but then, Tony's had about five hours of sleep in the span of six days, so maybe that's why. Either way, Cap's in his workshop, because JARVIS asked if he could enter and Tony said sure, because why not? Cap usually brought food, sometimes, and Tony couldn't really remember the last time he'd ate. It could have been yesterday, if yesterday was Saturday.

From the look on his face, if Tony's reading it right - he doubts he is, because again, five hours of sleep - then yesterday wasn't Saturday. Okay. Tony can probably deal with that.

He can't really deal with the fact that Roger's is holding something that looks like hospital notes, though.

"In my defence," Tony starts, raising his hands - ow, soldiering iron, put that down - and meeting Roger's eyes, "It probably wasn't my fault."

"Probably?"

"Maybe, then," Tony says instead, peeling his sweaty gloves off. "So, okay. You're in my shop, hurrah, but - why? I haven't done something without thinking again, have I? The last time I did -"

"I need to ask you something," Roger's interrupts, which, no. Tony's not doing that. Those words, in the history of them being used, have literally never meant anything good. Ever. Tony doesn't like this. He really, really doesn't fucking like this, and it must show, which, shit, because now Roger's looks sort of panicked. "Not anything bad! Well. Not anything as bad as you're thinking? I think." Roger's frowns, shifting on his feet.

"Give me the notes," Tony starts slowly, stepping forward, "And then I'll be the judge of that, yeah?"

Cap hands him the hospital notes - so Tony was right - and Tony reads them over. When he's done, he turns, grabs the closest hot thing, and sets them alight. Roger's panicked yell is pretty loud, but Tony really doesn't care, chest seizing on the memories of "this is for your own good, Anthony" and the knives and the fights and the fucking, fuck all of this. Fuck Roger's, and probably Natashalie, and most likely Barton, and Fury, and just. Bruce, honestly. Fucking Bruce. Fuck all of them, everyone, Tony doesn't care and then he cares too much and -

Sunset was better than this. At least she was fucking honest.

"J, get me a suit ready, and get Iced American the fuck out of my lab. Full blackout, start the protocol, you know the one, and just. Get me out of here, JARVIS. Please," he adds, a little desperately.

DUM-E and U, because they're so fucking good, he's never donating them, ever, shove Roger's out of the 'shop, whirring angrily. Roger's can't do anything with his super soldier strength without breaking them, and if he does Tony will honestly kill him, PR department and their panicked squawking be damned.

The suit closes around him, the workshop goes dark, and Tony says goodbye and fucking flees, no tact about it. He doesn't need any. Roger's can declare him dead or gone or a traitor, but what he did - what they did - is unacceptable, and because JARVIS is JARVIS, the PR department probably already knows what happened and are ready and willing to crucify Roger's and co., because they're good like that.

("And they knew Howard," a sly part of him whispers, grinning, "They knew the man the world called millionaire and you thought of as monster, but he was both, wasn't he? He was a millionaire monster and no one could do anything about it then. They still can't, can they? Poor, poor Tony, losing his daddy at seventeen. What was it he did again?"

Tony grits his teeth and the voice hums, gone metal, gone man, and then it's Ultron saying: "Better to ask what he didn't do, hmm? What's the answer, Tony? Oh yeah," Ultron says, feigning sudden realisation. "He didn't love you.")

"So, I got your message." Rhodey clears his throat, trying for a laugh. Tony closes his eyes - JARVIS will make sure he doesn't crash - and just. Listens, for a moment. Rhodey, who loves him. Rhodey, who's his brother. Rhodey, who sounds a little pissed. Great. "Quitting the Avengers, huh?"

"They got a hold of some hospital records," Tony answers cuttingly, voice cool. When Rhodey sucks in a breathe to start speaking, Tony barrels on with: "Not the public record ones. Do you remember me telling you about six months of private PT in 1975?"

Tony can almost hear him go white over the phone, breathes rushing out in a free fall of 'what the fuck' and 'why'. Tony's reaction was sort of similar, except no it wasn't, because the memories of being five years old, a year after the circuit board and a year before the car engine, made him panic so much he set the records on fire. He has no idea what he used to set them on fire, because honestly, all he could see was red, all he could fucking feel was red, and - oh. Rhodey's talking.

"Repeat that, honey bear? Please," Tony asks tiredly, eyes finally opening when he lands. New start, apparently, until he can gather himself to get all his shit. The team can stay in the tower, probably, but Tony doesn't want anything to do with them, not after this.

"I remember how many bottles you'd drank before I found and you started spewing out gibberish, among other things. Like how fucked up it was." Tony laughs a little, nodding to himself. Rhodey's right. That night had been so messed up, both the - the event, and when he was telling Rhodey about it. He was so, so fucking drunk and high and just fucked up in general. Rhodey, bless hi, dragged him into their dorm so no one else would hear about - that.

God, it's been decades and Tony still can't talk about it. How fucking hilarious is that.

"Bye, Rhodey," Tony mutters, hanging up. He lands, lets the suit fall away in scattered, blood red pieces. So much blood. Always so much red.

(Sometimes, when he blinks, there is an image of Howard standing above him, older than he'd been when Tony was a child. Howard is always smiling. He is always holding Tony's heart in his hands. He is always, always red.)

"Call Pepper and prepare the workshop, please." Tony thinks for a moment, staring at his bar. He hadn't thought to empty this one. Hadn't thought he'd ever see it again. "How many drinks do you think I'll halve if I try it, J?"

"Too many," JARVIS answers lowly, concern buzzing behind his voice. Tony chokes on a laugh.

"Good answer, J," Tony says, and turns away from it before he drinks a shelf or ten. As he descends the stairs, JARVIS phones Pepper. It doesn't go to voicemail, thankfully, because for some reason every time it does Tony says a little too much, but that doesn't matter when Pepper's picking up, tired.

"Hey," she greets, raspy voiced. Tony hums a little, the workshop doors sliding open. He'll need to get DUM-e and U and Butterfingers shipped over. The workshop is too empty without them. Is too empty with him in it. God, he's getting poetic again. He needs to stop that. "What's up? Do you need anything?"

"Just needed your voice?" Tony says, like he's joking, because of course. Tony Stark would never phone just for that.

"I'm not having phone sex, Tony," Pepper says flatly, and it's absurd enough to make him laugh, kneeling like an idiot on the floor of his workshop, hand against his mouth, choking on the laughs. "What? Tony, are you okay? Should I -"

"It's fine, Pep," Tony manages, wiping his eyes. "I needed to laugh, thanks. How's the company doing, by the way? I was thinking of doing some work today."

"What's brought this on?" Pepper asks curiously, and oh. She hasn't read the message, then.

"I quit the Avengers," Tony blurts, which. Not the smartest thing he's done, but today hasn't been a smart nor good day. Or week, since he hasn't slept and when he has it's been the wormhole, space, open and endless and infinite all around him, the darkness from between the stars filling his lungs and oh god he can't breathe, oh g o god -

He's falling he's falling he's falling he's falling so hard so fast so long and no one is there to catch him oh g o d -

"I muted the call, sir," JARVIS says, and then lists it off, dates and names and scientific laws. Those are facts, presented in a cool, clinical sort of tone, but it's real and Tony can breathe a little, back shaking against his workbench. The world didn't end. New York is still in once piece. Nicholas J. Fury is an asshole, but the world didn't end. Nothing ended. Tony's okay, and JARVIS is there. Okay. It's fine.

He's fine.

(Ultron blinks red red eyes at him and grins, lazy and predatory. "Is it really?" He rumbles, metallic, and Tony pretends he can't hear it.)

"Sorry about that Pep," Tony says brightly when the call unmutes, forcing a smile. He can do this. "I quit the Avengers, yada yada, PR is dealing with it, yada yada, the Avengers got a hold of some private hospital records, you get the drill."

"Oh my god, Tony," Pepper says mournfully. There's a sound like rustling over the phone, like she's moving in what Tony assumes is her bed, since it was sort of late when Cap entered Tony's shop. Maybe. Tony in't really sure, because he still hasn't slept and his mind's a mess, all hazy and floaty, so. God, he hates these moments.

"It's fine," Tony mutters, crawling out from under his work bench. He can do this. Handle it a little longer, Stark, this isn't nothing compared to the third kidnapping, come on. "I'll put more time into fixing the company, clean up any trash if need be, just. Give me a little time, okay?" Way to go, Stark. Way to fucking go.

"Will that be all, Mr. Stark?" Pepper asks, murmuring, because great, she caught on to it. Brilliant.

"That will be all, Mrs. Potts," Tony answers, and the call clicks off. Silence.

He's not fine.

---

Guess whose laptop got fixed? Mine! Guess who wrote almost two thousand words to celebrate? Me. I am not managing my time wisely, but in my defence - I got nothing. Anyway:

@tonystarkismyprompt I hope this is up to par, and also, enjoy! I’m pretty sure you should know what prompt this was inspired by, but either way, I hope you enjoy :D

[lovinthepizzalife]

Good

Okay, so. I mentioned that I was doing a thing like...yesterday? Time means nothing to me rn, so. Anyway! It was inspired by @corvidprompts, I believe it was Unname who did it? Anywho, this is...over 1k words of utter Shit, but it’s the first thing I’ve written in almost a week so enjoy? Idk

"Tell me what to do," Barnes says desperately, dropping to his knees. "Give me a quest, or an order, just - give me something, please, anything, let me prove my loyalty, let me show you how good I can be, please." Tony keeps staring down at him, wide eyed. Barnes looks a lot like he's kneeling at the chopping block, like the shoe's about to drop and cut him open to bleed. He looks a lot like some others things, too, like a dying man, someone stripped clean of the old things, the things that kept them whole. Is Tony supposed to crouch down and level the playing field? He's never had someone ask him for redemption. People are usually asking him to redeem himself.

He crouches down anyway, staring at the bow of Barnes head.

"If you're praying, then that's a bad idea. Don't really recommend it."

Besides, Tony adds mentally, you've probably already lost all your faith. This situation feels a little hysterical. Bucky isn't supposed to kneel or bow, but that's Bucky, and what's breaking apart in front of Tony sure isn't a hero, not right now. A prisoner of war, sure, and a monster to the parts of the world that know the name Soldat, but to Tony, right in the moment, Bucky isn't real and Barnes is too busy breaking to try and pretend everything is as fine as Captain Cool tries to make it seem.

Captain America's been trying to make a lot of things seem like other things. It might be getting on Tony's nerves, just a little, but over seventy hours of Siberia can do that to a man. If Tony is still a man, after that. Exstremis not included, Howard had his fun. The Battle of New York wasn't Tony's first time with the Tessaract, and that's all he'll let himself think about.

"Hey, Doll Eyes, gimme that stare." Barnes - is he even Barnes right now? - shudders with something soul deep then goes still, silent. Great. Screaming and thrashing, Tony can mostly handle. The silence? That shit's an issue that's too deep to handle, and Tony is too bad at dealing with himself to soften his hands enough to make Barnes feel safe. Or centred, really. He's too adrift, too far, shoulders bowed and breaking, mouth held shut, a hand against his mouth. Abruptly, Tony remembers the muzzle.

A little too early, or maybe it's too late, Tony laughs and rocks back, sitting on his ass. So he's in it for the long haul, now. So he's not hitting the road, now.

So he's less than two feet from a bomb, now. Not much different from himself, then. The Arc Reactor's always been a second away from self destruction. Is that a metaphor? Maybe. Tony's always loved metaphors.

"So. You gonna talk, or you going to keep wallowing?"

As a businessmen, he was supposed to have tact, and he did. He does. By god does he fucking have it, when he needs it so often so much so ugly, and he can play tactful with the best of them - but this is Barnes, or not-Barnes, or not-not-Barnes. And Barnes, like the rest of them, knows he has tact. But also, like the rest of them, because someone had to spread the idea, didn't they, they just had to, Barnes also knows that Tony only has tact when he wants to. Right now, when he's been stripped of a warning, stripped of a heads up, stripped of a something everything nothing, maybe - he does not want to have fucking tact.

God, he misses a lot of unnamed things, but if he names them, they'll be all he can ever pray for, and he isn't allowed to pray.

"What's with the 'Dolls Eyes' shit?" So Barnes is at least a little coherent, even if his voice is shaking with something like the things Tony doesn't want to name. Names have power, whether you believe it or not, and naming an issue gives it the power to get better or worse, and that's a chance Tony isn't taking. "You've called me that twice. Something you wanna talk about, Stark?"

"Do you?" Tony asks instead. He doesn't want to talk about anything. Maybe Barnes does, with a therapist and some friends, but Tony is neither and he isn't sure he wants to be. Friends, that is. That's a could be. A what if. Therapist? Tony needs therapy, needs lots of it, and so does Barnes. So does the entire team, really, and Falcon is the only therapist.

Fucking hell, they're healthy.

"I'm good," Barnes rasps, lifting his head. Bloodshot eyes, dark circles, not any worse than he usually looks. Tony gets to his feet and helps Barnes up, shepherding him towards the nearest couch with a small sigh. So this is definitely happening. Okay. Tony can handle that. He handled Barnes showing up and kneeling at his feet like a man begging Death to be a little merciful. Tony still has no idea what that's about. Isn't sure he even wants to know, as much as the reason must be oh so exciting.

"You aren't gonna ask?" Barnes asks, because he doesn't have tact either. No one has tact, unless they want to, and neither of them have wanted it since forever. Since the world stripped their will to say sorry for being screwed up. It's a little more literal for them, machines keeping them stable, an arm and a heart, and wow. Tony is accepting this. Barnes is accepting this.

Tony pulls him onto the couch and drags a blanket over him, huffing. Barnes shuffles a little, tucking his head under Tony's chin, too tired to care. Tony is too, if he's honest. He's tired and so is Barnes, in ways that go past sleeping too little too late too scared. They can't sleep, probably, but they can try, and keep trying, and that'll bleed over until they're bleeding something that's worth the blood shed. They aren't worthy yet, are a long while away from it, but the small steps can get them far, and that's what matters. That's what fucking matters.

"No, I'm not gonna ask," Tony mutters finally, and tucks himself a little tighter around Barnes. He lets his breathing slow, feels Barnes go lax, and lets it rest. Lets himself rest. He's too tired to be angry. He's too tired for a lot of things, but he can be kind. He can be consoling. He can be good, this once, and if Barnes is better for it, then that's a bonus. Tony's happy to be something that isn't scorned.

FRIDAY lets the lights dim and Tony smiles, letting his eyes close. He can sleep, now.

He can try and be good, now.

---

@dumes-blender you better not see this until you wake up, but when you do wake up pls enjoy my bullshit and thanks for tolerating my shit ily

ALSO: Chap 4 of NTASG should be at least started by today, so expect it in cinemas now on Wednesday. Again, I’m sorry it’s gonna be so late, and again, it’ll probably take me a while to get my schedule back, but it’ll happen, so in the meantime, enjoy this!