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The first time Steve asked about Howard, Tony had been in the midst of eating his breakfast across the counter. They weren’t friends yet, barely resembling teammates at that stage really, and were living together in the tower in some misguided attempt from Fury to change that.
Steve had been sitting quietly, listening to Tony’s stream of consciousness as he scanned through the news on his tablet, when he had taken advantage of a rare pause in Tony’s speech, “Tony?”
“Yeah Steve what’s up?” Tony mumbled, a little startled by Steve’s sudden input in their so far one sided conversation. “I was just wondering…what was Howard like, you know as a father? I can’t imagine it really.”
Tony froze, mouth dropped open in shock for a moment before he managed to pull himself together, shaking off the sudden memories and smiling convincingly at Steve. “I’ll have to show you some of the footage from the old days, it’s in the company files somewhere…but I gotta run Steve I have a board meeting, can’t start reminiscing and be late. Sorry, raincheck?” Tony rambled, looking at Steve and feeling a rising guilt when he saw the disappointment etched on his face.
“Yeah I understand, raincheck.”
It was a long time before Steve would realise that Tony had spent the rest of that morning hidden in his workshop, forcing back difficult memories and skipping the meeting he had never really harboured any intentions of going to in the first place.
It didn’t take long for the team to come together after moving into the tower, of course there were the first few awkward days when they had to grow used to sharing their space with each other, but in such a large home, they managed to fall into a certain pattern with ease.
Now, two months into the living arrangements Tony couldn’t imagine why he had once preferred to live alone. Of course he still maintained his own personal spaces, the workshop his haven if ever the company of his friends grew to be too much, but mostly he enjoyed working out complex software on his tablet’s while the team sat watching TV in their favourite of the three lounge rooms. In fact he loved it, having people around to bounce ideas off and joke with instead of chuckling to himself alone while JARVIS sassed him. He was beginning to actually feel comfortable in his own skin now, it was a feeling he could barely remember ever experiencing before.
The only problem was the fact that some of his walls came down with that level of comfort. He found himself being way too open with his feelings sometimes, and although it was nice to have friends who knew him, and knew how he felt without him having to tell them, it could be dangerous, especially seeing as half the time the feelings he forgot to hide were the ones that crept up inside him whenever Steve would pout at one of the many kitchen appliances in confusion, or run his hand through his hair while trying to explain his ninety year old pop-culture references to Clint.
Natasha knew, he was sure of it, he had seen the eyebrow she lifted when she caught Tony staring at Steve across Thor’s head while they were watching Some Like it Hot (it had been Steve’s turn to pick the movie), she didn’t say anything about it, and for that he loved her just a little bit more than he had before. He was finding that happened with all of them, he couldn’t stop himself from noticing, and enjoying each of their little quirks, and that went double in Steve’s case.
He was a lot like Tony in some ways. He too liked to keep his emotions schooled behind a façade, but over the weeks Tony had seen the chinks in that armour, the sad sighs he would let out when Clint would talk about his frat buddy friends and their antics, or Thor would mention Jane. Tony knew he was happy in the house with them, but that didn’t take away the pain of losing everyone he had ever known.
They were sitting together at the counter again when Tony noticed Steve’s sad expression as he read through an article Fury had found for him about Howard and Peggy, and their efforts to finish what Steve had started after they lost him. Tony grimaced a little at his father’s smiling face, before forcing himself to push back the dark memories which threatened to break over, he had to do this for Steve, the poor guy needed someone to be there for him sometimes.
“Do you want to take me up on that raincheck then Cap?” Tony asked, a small part of him hoping Steve would decline, would say they needed to go spar or do something productive, but he knew that wouldn’t happen as soon as his friend looked up, beaming.
“Really?” Steve asked, his eyes alight in a way that Tony knew he would never be able to refuse, even if it meant having to do something he really, really, didn’t want to. “Yeah I got time, what do you want to know?” Tony asked, pulling down every mask he had and forcing himself to play the happy, loving son that he always had for the media when they asked about his father.
“What was he like? Did he ever talk about me?” Steve questioned, and Tony’s gut twisted just a little as the angry words floated through his mind despite his best efforts to push them back “For fuck’s sake Tony! This is important, Christ if I could switch you for having Steve back I’d do it in a heartbeat.” Tony swallowed heavily, his face still the picture of ease, “Of course he did! Are you kidding he looked for you until the day he died, missed you like crazy I think he would have done anything to get you back, and now that I’ve met you I get it.” Tony joked, and if his smile didn’t reach his eyes Steve didn’t notice, too caught up in his own reminiscence.
“I can’t believe how much of their lives I missed out on, I wish I could have been there to see it all.” Steve told him, and there was that sadness Tony hated so much, dancing in Steve’s eyes and making Tony’s heart ache enough to keep him going, wading deeper into the memories, in danger of drowning under their weight. “Well that’s what I’m here for, bonafide Howard expert at your service.” Tony replied.
“Thank you Tony…I know it can’t be easy for you to talk about.” Steve says, causing Tony’s eyebrows to shoot upwards, had he really been that obvious? Had Steve seen through all his masks? “I’m sorry you lost him so young” he continued and Tony settled back a little, relaxing just a fraction in the knowledge that Steve didn’t know, and couldn’t know, about the kind of man Howard had been. It would hurt him too much.
“Yeah…not having a father so young…it sucked, but I can talk about him now, actually it’s probably good I do, I’ve never really done it before.” Tony lied easily, and he didn’t mean his father’s death when he said it, but Steve didn’t have to know.
“It means a lot to hear about him, you’re a good friend Tony.” Steve said quietly, patting Tony’s arm, his expression fond. Tony leant into the touch just a little, imagining what it might have been like if Steve had been around growing up, if his father had been happy sometimes, if everything hadn’t gone to hell before Tony was even born.
“It’s nothing Steve don’t worry about it”
That night Tony didn’t sleep, but it was ok, because Steve did.
Thor was the next to notice, but he didn’t say anything either, well, at least not until he came across Tony one night, sitting on the couch and tearing his hair out, as memories forced their way through his mind.
Thor hurried over, diverging from the beeline he had been making for the fridge and sitting beside Tony, grabbing his hands so that he stopped attacking his own skull. “Anthony…what has gotten you so off put? Can I be of assistance?” he asked, his brow furrowing as Tony turned away, determined to hide his tears from his friend.
“You should tell Stephen of your feelings if it has you in such a worry, I do not like to see you this way.” Thor told him, putting an arm around his shoulder despite Tony’s continued attempts to hide from him, but Tony couldn’t hold in the sniffle that so treacherously gave away his emotions. “It’s not that…god am I that obvious?” Tony asked, turning to look at Thor, who only tightened his arm around Tony seeing the deep set red rims of his eyes, a clear indication he had been crying for a good while before Thor had arrived.
“No Anthony you are not, but I know you well now and I can see the way you watch him, it makes me most glad to think you would find happiness with him.” Thor booms, laughing a little and rocking the pair of them, forcing Tony to come closer and accept his embrace.
“What has gotten you so upset Anthony, if not our captain?” at that Tony hid his face again, ducking his head to stare stoically down at his hands, “it’s nothing big guy, forget about it.”
“I will not! We live here precisely so none of us has to be alone! I know what it is to be lonely Anthony and I will not wish it upon you or any other, tell me what bothers you” Thor demanded, and Tony had heard that tone before, he knew he wouldn’t escape without giving an answer.
“It’s not my feelings for Steve…it’s just he’s been asking about my father, and it’s hard to talk about him even now, but it makes Cap so happy to hear about his friends so I can’t refuse. It’s just exhausting.” Tony muttered, not telling the whole truth but feeling good to admit that he was having trouble coping with the memories. He was a private person, and he doubted he would ever let anyone know what had happened to him as a boy, but to have someone know he was struggling had always been a reassurance that someone was watching him, a safeguard in case he ever went off the deep end. It had once been Pepper, now it seemed Thor Odinson was his confidant. His life was certainly changing, in a very strange way.
“Anthony you must not let yourself be weighed down…if Stephen’s happiness comes at the price of your own, you must beg his forgiveness and stop speaking of your father, I know he will understand.” Thor reprimanded him, and Tony knew he was right but the thought of Steve’s disappointed face after the first time he had refused made it impossible for him to tell Steve it was getting to be too much.
“Yeah I know big guy, thanks.” Tony said tiredly, clapping one of Thor’s knees to try and signify that the conversation was over. Thor gave him an unsteady look but let him go, and Tony could feel his eyes on his back the whole walk to his bedroom door.
Tony didn’t get to sleep that night, letting his tears fall behind the safety of his bedroom door. Thor must have noticed the bags and red tinge to his eyes the next morning, because Steve stopped asking Tony about Howard after that.
Tony hadn’t let himself think about his father for a few weeks when Steve next brought him up. They had all been sitting together after one of their “family dinner’s”, watching some obscure show called ‘Corner Gas’ that Clint had recently become obsessed with. It had been comfortable, all of them relaxed enough in each others company now to simply lie and watch one or the others favourite shows without complaint, that was until the characters began to have a conversation about fondue and Steve started cracking up in his seat next to Nat.
“What’s gotten into you?” She asked him dryly, looking over him as though he had gone completely insane.
“Sorry, just reminded me of Howard, he and I used to have this joke about fondue…he said it meant he’d never be able to feed it to his kids without feeling like a scoundrel.” Steve laughed, wiping away tears as the others smiled fondly, with only a little bemusement at him. All of them that is, except for Tony, who tensed up and clutched Bruce’s knee beside him with enough force to make the other man jump, turning to look at Tony and frowning at his friend’s suddenly blanched face.
Tony didn’t realise he was even touching Bruce, lost in a memory of his father.
“Get out of my way boy!” His father screamed, kicking out at Tony as the seven year old clambered to get away, not quickly enough however and crashing to the ground as his father connected with his ribs, tears springing to his eyes immediately.
“I’m sorry daddy, please I just wanted to show you my robot I made him for you I thought you could put him in your expo?” Tony mumbled, not daring to look up and into his father’s eyes.
Howard laughed harshly, “My expo doesn’t have room for a silly little boy’s stupid little toys. God I wish your mother had never gotten pregnant, you’re such a brat! Get out, go on you know you’re not allowed in here.” His father snarled, his voice rising to a yell as he hauled Tony up by the scruff of his shirt, throwing the young boy out of the room and onto the floor in the hall, ignoring his son’s cry of pain.
Howard was already grumbling as he closed the door, and the words “waste of space” floated out and stuck in Tony’s head. He would never dislodge them, not really.
Tony came back to himself to the sight of Clint looking with concern at him, taking up most of his eye line as he got in close, calling Tony’s name louder than was necessary for the distance between them, Bruce stood beside him, one hand on Tony’s shoulder, looking just as concerned.
“Tony! Tony can you hear me snap out of it!” Clint yelled, clicking his fingers in front of Tony’s eyes, his voice a little higher than usual. “Stop it of course I can hear you.” Tony grumbled, pushing Clint’s hands away.
“Thank fuck.” Clint muttered, dropping to his haunches and looking up into Tony’s eyes, searching for some clue as to what had just happened. “You ok man? You spaced out on us there for like a few minutes.”
Tony stared at him, a little shocked before composing himself, trying to shrug off the episode “it’s nothing I just didn’t sleep much last night guess I’m a little tired.”
“Bullshit” Nat said, staring at him with her arms crossed, beside her Steve looked as though he were about to cry, his face drained of all its colour.
“Tony I-“ he began but stopped when Tony waved his hand dismissively, “it’s nothing guys I just need to get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning ok?” He said, addressing all of them.
They nodded hesitantly, Bruce stepping up beside him, as if he was terrified Tony would suddenly collapse but hanging back once he was sure that his friend was ok to walk to his bedroom alone.
Tony hid in his room, dropping onto the bed and facing his back to the door, letting tears fall quietly down his cheeks. He had always thought Howard had just hated kids, had never wanted to be tied down and resented the fact he had been.
Now he knew that Howard had always wanted kids, he just didn’t want Tony.
He was still crying when he heard his door open, and Steve stepped in “I’m so sorry Tony.” He whispered, before turning to go, assuming Tony was asleep.
This time however, Tony didn’t want to be alone anymore, and so turned over, calling out as Steve made to leave.
Steve stepped back inside, his face falling when he saw Tony’s tears, he rushed forward, sitting beside his friend on the bed and holding him while he cried.
Tony finally fell asleep that night, curled tightly into Steve’s strong embrace, clinging to him throughout the night.
Tony woke the next morning to Steve’s worried face, his arms still tight around Tony, asking “are you ok” before Tony could even comprehend what Steve was doing in his bed.
It took a second but he remembered the flashback, remembered his friends concerned faces as he left for bed, remembered crying silently after learning how to control his sobs by age ten, remembered not wanting to be alone so calling after Steve, who had stayed.
Tony turned bright red, moving to pull out of Steve’s embrace, embarrassed by how emotional he had gotten last night but Steve wouldn’t let him go, tightening his arms so that Tony was forced to stay there, looking into Steve’s eyes.
“Tony. Are you ok?” Steve asked again, his expression searching, needing Tony to be alright, guilt dancing in his eyes. Tony closed his eyes, unable to bear that look on Steve’s face and nodded, because he had been so much worse before, so he supposed that this was ok. Ok had become anything better than heartbroken and self destructive a long time ago.
“No your not.” Steve whispered, pressing his lips to Tony’s forehead in a tender kiss, sounding so resigned, so saddened that it made Tony feel like he had kicked a puppy. He held his breath as Steve drew his lips away, his heart racing slightly as he looked up into his friends eyes, knowing his own expression was giving away just a little too much hope to go unnoticed.
Tony inched forward, praying he wasn’t reading this wrong, moving slowly but stopping himself short, forcing his eyes down, suddenly fascinated by the pillow case he had twisted beneath his fingers, desperately trying to keep himself from uttering anything stupid “can I kiss you?” Like that. He could have said anything else, or just kept his big mouth closed before spilling it out and he had already opened his mouth to apologise for asking something so stupid when it hit him, he hadn’t asked that, that was Steve…Steve who was now reaching out his hand to take Tony’s and still his fingers against the pillow.
Tony looked up, his face growing hot as he felt the blush creeping in, tried to school his emotions, to push away the surprise and the hope and every emotion he so often ignored because it was easier that way, no one got hurt that way. But here was Steve, lying in his bed and smiling as if Tony could light up his world, and Tony couldn’t lie to himself anymore, couldn’t stop himself from nodding mutely, as if his renowned intellect had suddenly abandoned him in the face of something so beautiful as Steve Rogers waking up in the morning.
Steve reached out with his free hand, softly cupping Tony’s jaw as he interlocked their fingers, playing with Tony’s hand in his as he kept their eyes locked, moving closer so that their breath was shared, inching forward as though any sudden movement would startle Tony away.
The kiss was like finding peace for Tony. The thousand thoughts and noises and lights that circled and crashed through his mind falling away, into a restful silence he hadn’t realised he had been missing until Steve’s lips were pressed against his own. It felt like suddenly there was someone close to him without him being afraid, Tony felt safe here.
As they broke apart the noise, the fears and self-deprecation hit him again like a tidal wave, knocking the air from his lungs as he stared at Steve, resting his forehead against the blonde’s and searching for a hint of regret, something to tell him Steve didn’t want this, something that affirmed the screams in his head that this was too good for him, that he couldn’t have this, that Steve was worth more than him.
“I want this Tony” Steve whispered, and shit. When did he get to know Tony’s expressions so well? But it didn’t matter right now because Steve was pressing close to him again. Kissing him with tenderness Tony had never experienced before, and suddenly couldn’t get enough of. Drowning himself in the warmth and the safety Steve’s arms provided, knowing that the second they parted he would fall back to the lonely place he had come to know as normality.
Steve moved forward, wrapping his body around Tony and nuzzling into his hair, holding him tight and pressing kisses to his ear “I’m so sorry.” Steve whispered, over and over, needing to say it despite the fact Tony was tuning the words out, desperate to stay in this moment, where Steve didn’t think he was broken, and hadn’t realised he wasn’t worth the time yet, desperate to forget just for one second the scars on his body, and the man who had put them there.
“It’s ok Steve, he was your friend, you miss him.” Tony replied, as if on autopilot, ever the faithful son, the strong orphan, the man who had loved his parents to the last moment. He doubted anyone would ever know the relief that Howard’s death had brought, was terrified of that truth being revealed.
“He was your father Tony, I can’t believe I put you through that” Steve said, pulling back, his own eyes beginning to brim with tears.
“It’s ok, I’ll be ok.” Tony whispered, ducking his head beneath Steve’s chin, and settling against him, pretending that ok was still a possibility for him.
The team never mentioned the incident again, aside from the initial “you ok buddy?” he received when he and Steve had finally emerged that morning. No one really raised an eyebrow at the way Steve began to hold Tony’s hand during dinners or how Tony suddenly started to settle in against Steve during movies, and Tony fell in love with all of them just a little bit more for that.
Of course Clint made jokes, and Thor feigned ignorance to force them to actually say the words “we’re dating” but there was nothing too dramatic, nothing that made Tony feel like their relationship was anything other than perfectly ok in their friend’s eyes.
Howard became a no go topic in the tower, and Tony was ok with that, it didn’t make much of a change from life before his embarrassing breakdown in the living room, and it made falling asleep easier at night. Or maybe that was just the fact he now had Steve’s arms wrapped around him as he fell asleep.
Things began to head back downhill the day before Loki tried to take Manhattan, while Tony was in the studio for an interview Fury had asked him to do for their PR.
He sat back in his chair, the lights already giving him a headache as he waited for the reporter to settle in an begin the interview, wanting to get it over with so he could get home and fall onto the lounge next to Steve.
The woman took forever, flitting about and talking in hushed whispers to her PA’s as if Tony didn’t have better things to be doing than waiting for her to get her shit together. When she finally sat down across from him he was in a foul mood, and had to school his expression into a calm façade, letting the anger blaze just a little behind his eyes for his own sanity.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, now Mr Stark, on this the thirty fifth anniversary of the first Stark Expo, we were wondering if you could reflect back on the man behind the legend, your father Howard.” She said, innocently, not realising the turmoil she was already stirring up beneath Tony’s skin.
He smiled, like he always had when they talked to him about his dad, and pulled on the mask that said “loving son” and hid the heartbroken mess beneath. “He was an inspiration that’s for sure, always took me to amazing places and he’d have these strokes of genius while we were out together, it was something I’ll never forget actually, the way he would just start working while we were out together, like everything inspired him to create.” Tony told her, playing the perfect son, telling half truths of the real memories that were now running through his mind of being dragged to shopping malls when his nurse had days off, much to Howard’s annoyance, and being left in the midst of a crowd when Howard had an idea and had let go of Tony’s hand in a fit of excitement. Tony had walked home that day, eight miles in the rain at the age of nine.
She smiled, nodding and kept up a similar line of questioning, occasionally asking about the Avengers or the company, the standard interview for Tony these days. The half hour session was drawing close to an end when she leaned forward, a strange look in her eyes that made him a little uncomfortable. “Now, sources from the Stark mansion have been coming forward recently accusing your father of being quite a different man from his public persona, drinking and acting poorly around the home. Some have even said he abused you as a child, do you have anything to say to these rumours?” She asked, and he froze.
He couldn’t speak, hands gripping the edge of the armchair as he stared at her, watched her frown and then perhaps realise what she had done to him. She had probably expected to get a wonderful sound bight of Tony defending his father, instead she had struck gold in capturing what Tony was sure would be a full melt down in front of camera. He hadn’t let himself even think the words child abuse since the day his father died, refusing to be the victim any longer, now that Howard wasn’t around to force him into that role.
“Who told you that?” Tony demanded, his words coming out harsher than he intended but he didn’t care, anger and despair and memories that had been held back for so long came crashing through his walls, flooding his mind and making him shiver from the intense cold that seemed to spread through his bones.
“Who told you that?” Tony snarled again, his breaths coming out too fast, blood rushing to his head “no one knows that…no one knows about that.” He said, and he felt as though he were about to pass out, must have looked it to because then she was talking again, and her PA’s were rushing to get him water and it was too loud, too painful.
“Mr Stark? Mr Stark are you alright?” She pressed, and he couldn’t remember her name, couldn’t really see her to be honest as images of his dad, angry and shouting and smelling of gin, hitting Tony for inventing something that Howard hadn’t even dreamed about yet, swirled through his mind.
“I’m…I’m sorry I can’t, I can’t do this I need to…I need to go.” Tony muttered, barely keeping it together enough to let the producers remove his microphone, stumbling out the door and leaning against the wall, the Avengers PR girl following him out, making furious calls, Happy standing beside him and rubbing his back as he breathed heavily.
“Tony…Tony buddy I need you to calm down.” Happy said soothingly, breathing loudly so that Tony could match his breaths one for one, helping him keep from hyperventilating, “please…Happy please get them to keep it off air.” Tony practically sobbed, and Happy pulled him to his chest, holding him and trying to get him to breathe, speaking words that fell on deaf ears as Tony’s eyes stared blankly ahead, seeing only his past.
“How dare you try and show me up in front of the board, how dare you! You stupid little brat, you should never have been born!” Howard screamed, punching a thirteen-year-old Tony again and again.
They were on the floor of Tony’s bedroom after Tony had excitedly run into the boardroom and presented his latest invention, to which the board had taken to immediately. Howard of course had jumped in instantly, never one to be showed up by anyone or anything “Son! We were supposed to finish the paint job together! Still, it looks great, gentleman I present to you our latest product!”
Tony had sagged, disappointed and afraid of the menacing gleam Howard had directed his way, the look that warned of the exact punishment Tony was now receiving for doing his best.
His father was pinning him down, his blows landing across his face, his family ring tearing open harsh gashes on Tony’s cheeks, splitting his lip and his brow, blackening his eye.
Tony screamed, but no one came. No one ever came.
Tony barely noticed that they were driving back to the tower until they had arrived, Happy jumping out to help him inside before Tony wove his arm away “I’m fine, I promise…just go home, say hi to Pep for me.” Tony said, and he sounded tired but he was standing steadily on his feet and he was walking without swaying so Happy did what he said, knowing when Tony needed to feel independent and respecting it.
Tony leant against the wall of the elevator, resting his forehead on the glass mirrors as he waited to reach the floor they would all be on, gathered around the TV. He hoped the PR girl would be able to keep the footage out of tomorrow night’s broadcast. There would be no way of hiding it from Steve, from any of them, if that footage played his secret was out for everyone to see.
Tony groaned, forcing himself to move out of the elevator as the doors opened, ignoring the texts that were buzzing in his pocket, assumedly from Happy checking and double checking he’d made it inside without incident. God he was glad he had that man.
Tony practically sleep walked into the living room, collapsing into his usual spot beside Steve and instantly turning his head to nuzzle into his boyfriend’s warmth, feeling the need to be protected by Steve’s strong arms around him. He almost managed to smile when Steve pulled him close, almost.
“How was the interview?” Clint asked from somewhere over his shoulder, Tony just groaned and the team laughed, “It was probably fine, you’re the best at those kind of things anyway.” Steve muttered, pressing a soft kiss to Tony’s hair.
Tony was asleep within minutes.
Howard advanced menacingly on his sixteen-year-old son, who was home for the first time in months from his course at MIT. Tony would never admit it but they both knew that he had decided to board on campus to escape for a while from his father, but he couldn’t hide forever, and his father had months of pent up aggression toward him ready to go as soon as he walked in the door.
They were alone in the house, Tony’s mother out at a charity event for her knew foundation, and the staff having been given the night off, Tony suspected so that there would be no witnesses, after Howard had to pay off that nurse last year who had tried to tell the police about Tony’s injuries.
“Been enjoying college boy? Showing me up every day, enjoying the paparazzi following you around campus? Bet you love all their attention you spoilt little bastard.” Howard snarled, lashing out and slapping Tony hard across the face, forcing him backward up against a wall.
“Dad please I haven’t been trying to show you up…I don’t want to, you’re better than me, I’m nothing compared to you.” Tony whimpered, believing every word as his father continued to get closer, crowding Tony’s face in the same way he had been since Tony was young, stamping out any sense of self-worth Tony had managed to find while away at college.
“Damn straight boy.” Howard snarled again, taking a fistful of his son’s dark hair and yanking his head up to force his son’s gaze to meet his own. “Don’t forget it.”
Tony whimpered in pain, trying to squirm away from his father as the first blow to his ribs landed, forcing the air from his lungs and a groan of pain from Tony. “Dad…dad please.” Tony whimpered, tears springing to his eyes despite his efforts to stay strong in front of his father.
“You’re not my son, you’ve never been able to live up the Stark name.” Howard growled, and his words numbed Tony to the core, running over and over in his mind as his father beat him down to the ground, kicking at his ribs and making up for their months apart.
Tony cried, feeling lost and alone, wishing he could just find somewhere he was wanted.
“Tony…Tony wake up” Steve pleaded, shaking his boyfriend’s shoulders to break him free of whatever dream was causing him to whimper in his sleep. The alarm to assemble had sounded, waking Steve immediately, and he had turned to find Tony curled into a ball on his side of the bead, moaning and flinching away from an invisible foe in his sleep.
“Tony!” Steve urged, shaking his shoulders more vigorously, breaking the man from his nightmare with a strangled gasp. “You ok?” Steve asked quietly, rubbing a comforting hand down his boyfriend’s back, his brow furrowed with concern at the cold sweat that covered Tony.
“Huh? Oh…yeah, yeah just a stupid dream.” Tony muttered, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes as he fidgeted, dropping his gaze to his hands in order to avoid showing Steve the fear he knew was still clear in his eyes.
“You sure? It didn’t seem good.” Steve asked, taking Tony’s hand and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles, a soothing gesture that had always helped to calm Tony when he was upset. Tony smiled, pulling on a mask for Steve and looking up “Yeah…it’s ok don’t worry, we have to suit up.”
Steve nodded, making a mental note to follow up on this conversation later, after they had responded to whatever threat had set off their alarm, “Ok…if you’re sure” he muttered, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to Tony’s forehead, cradling the back of his head with a steadying hand.
They got ready in silence, Tony trying to force his memories to the back of his mind, trying to rebuild the walls he had kept in place for so long, but something about the interview yesterday had broken them irreparably, and he shuddered every now and then as a phantom blow struck him, or his father’s face swum across his vision.
Steve kept one eye on Tony whenever he was able, catching his shudders and grimaces when his boyfriend thought no one was looking, his gut twisting with worry each time. Something was wrong, and he had no idea how to fix it.
Tony kept quiet through Fury’s briefing, too distracted to make his usual smart-alec comments, listening quietly and remaining oblivious to the concerned stares of the team. Over his head Thor through a questioning glance at Steve, who shrugged and looked back at Tony, his brow furrowing as Tony missed yet another opportunity to make a joke. It seemed as though Fury was making obvious openings for him to try and elicit a response, as he frowned occasionally from the screen that he was occupying, his one good eye looking over Tony with a similar concern.
They moved quickly, filing onto the Quinjet and setting a course for the lower side of Manhattan, where Loki was apparently making yet another grab for power. Tony causing each of them even more worry by suggesting Clint pilot the jet on their way over. Finally noticing their raised brows he shrugged, waving them off with “I didn’t sleep well, and I’d rather not crash this billion dollar jet.”
The team nodded, still a little unsure but letting him move to the back and sit down, resting his eyes. Steve watched him like a hawk, noticing every flinch and gasp, squinting as though if he looked hard enough, he’d be able to see what was bothering Tony.
Tony watched as his father threw his blueprints into the fireplace, tears welling up as he saw his new design going up in smoke, his father laughing in his face as he saw his son’s expression.
“You thought that was good enough to be made by my company? You’re a disgrace boy.” Howard had snarled, slapping the six year old across the face. “You’ll never amount to anything.”
Tony sobbed, curling into a ball on the floor as his father walked away from him, his glass of scotch still in hand, looking as though nothing had happened.
As they touched down, the door to the Quinjet opening to reveal the chaos and terrified screams of the civilians in the area, Steve’s gut clenched painfully. The team were moving as one, each of them taking their roles and spreading to their positions, moving with purpose and with all focus on the task at hand.
All that was, except for Tony, who had jetted out of the plane as soon as the doors had opened, hardly responding to calls on the comms and recklessly honing in on Loki without back up. Thor had flown after him at top speed, trying to catch up to his teammate to ensure Tony didn’t get himself blown up, while Clint swore and had to work to cover Thor’s quadrant of their battleground until the demi-god returned, followed by Tony’s harsh words over the comms “I’m fine, I’ve got the skies just look after civilians.”
No one believed him but there was no time to argue, each with their hands full of civilians, moving them out of harms way while battling through Loki’s Chitauri slaves. Occasionally Steve would catch a glimpse of Tony, warding off any of their air born enemies with repulsor jets, scanning the field for Loki so they could cut off the head of this particular snake.
In the suit Tony was forcing himself to stay focused, every time thoughts of Howard would creep into his consciousness, thirty years of experience in memory repression had to come in handy as he desperately tried to keep his mind on the job. He was vaguely aware that Steve was barking orders over the comms, but hadn’t heard himself singled out, so let their chatter turn into white noise, one less thing to think about.
He could see Loki, or rather, the strange pulsing light that the Demi god had surrounded himself in at the beginning of his siege, and was making his way closer and closer, looping around and taking out the Chitauri guard that had formed a perimeter around the light, making Tony assume this was once again, something to do with the sceptre.
“Tony wait for back up before approaching Loki.” Steve’s voice commanded, Jarvis amplifying his voice as he addressed Tony directly, making sure Tony got the message. “Steve I’m close, I can’t wait the Chitauri will reform ranks.” He growled in response, sending yet another repulsor into the few remaining guards, taking their tally down to around fifteen surrounding Loki, compared to a number somewhere close to a hundred when Tony had first arrived on the scene.
“Tony. Wait for back up. We don’t know what Loki’s got in there.” Steve tried again, his voice urgent as Tony sent a powerful blast, taking out enough Chitauri for him to land, ignoring Steve’s command. “Jarvis, switch off comms” Tony instructed, blasting his way closer to Loki, the Chitauri falling in the face of his superior weaponry, he had learned from the mistakes of the last invasion.
“Sir, I don’t think that is wise” Jarvis replied, the AI’s voice laced with a concern sometimes Tony wished he could have avoided programming in, “Do it Jarvis.” He said again, his voice unwavering, and the AI could not refuse, was not able to. Steve’s desperate words ceased, providing him with an eerie silence, the last of the Chitauri falling at his feet as he reached the outside of the light source, running scans to determine it’s safety.
“The orb is constructed primordially of light sir, with the energy of the sceptre binding the particles to create a more solid structure, it will not harm our systems if we are to approach.” Jarvis informed him, data relaying quickly across the HUD systems. Tony chuckled, despite the situation, “and what about the lunatic demi-god inside it then J?”
“Well sir, he could cause us some damage, quite catastrophic amounts if past experiences are to be relied upon.” Jarvis replied, that same concern underpinning his tone. Tony grinned despite the situation, “Well, at least it’ll be an interesting fight.”
Jarvis did not deign to respond, so Tony pushed forward, reaching out cautiously with the gauntlet and slipping his fingers into the light, his breath catching in his throat momentarily as he waited for some kind of reaction. Encouraged by the lack of explosions, Tony pushed forwards, entering into the almost serene cocoon of light, at the centre of which Loki stood, his eyes alight with mischief, sceptre in hand.
“Took you long enough” Loki greeted him, his smile twisting maniacally as he raised the sceptre and sent a blast of blue, incandescent light straight towards Tony’s faceplate. Tony shot at the streak of light with a repulsor, but they were powerless against it, and it continued to come for him, seeping into the cracks in his armour and the pours of his skin, filling his nostrils with a heady aroma that made his eyelids flutter and droop, as memories flooded out from behind countless walls in his mind, jockeying one another for a position at the forefront of his mind, his vision clouded as he jumped from image to image, each a painful memory.
“My brother has a big mouth Mister Stark” Loki’s jeering voice sounded thousands of miles away as he fell into the darkness of his own mind.
Tony was screaming, his voice hoarse from it, his lungs burning as he tried to find air to fill them, but couldn’t seem to gulp down enough, his ribs aching painfully from where he had hit the banister, Howard having thrown him across the hall and into the ornate staircase in one of his far to regular fits.
The memory shifted quickly before he could place exactly what his father had been angry about to warrant throwing him into a balustrade, but the pain followed him, some of the pressure lifting from his aching chest and migrating to the snapped bone in his leg, his vision clouded by his father’s look of delight as Tony lay in a resigned silence, barely whimpering as he internalised the pain, he had no idea how young he had been when he had learnt to do that.
Again the memories shifted, landing him in a more vivid scene, his mother patching his wounds without saying a word, tears stuck in her eyes as she cleaned his cuts and grazes and placed soothing balms on his growing black eye.
“Help me.” Tony whimpered, leaning into her touch, craving the physical affection he was so rarely shown. She barely held back a sob, holding him close and pressing comforting kisses into his hair, but not promising anything, never providing the help Tony so desperately needed.
“I’m so sorry Tony.” She whispered into his hair, and his heart broke as he finally realised that no one would save him. This was his fight, and he could never win.
Tony screamed, wrenching away the faceplate of the armour as though it had burned him, his eyes glassy as he tried to fight back memory, after memory, tears tracking down his cheeks as he felt each blow on his body.
“Stop it! Please just stop it I can’t do it.” Tony screamed, feeling punches and kicks as though he were experiencing them first hand, spiralling back into a place he had taken so long to climb out of.
“Remember the pain Stark, remember every sneered word and glancing blow, remember every tear you shed, and realise you, of all people, must understand who I am” Loki called, his voice barely a whisper reaching Tony’s ears against the roar of his own pulse, battering at his ear drums.
“Stop” Tony whimpered, falling to his knees, gasping at the phantom sensation of a socket wrench coming down hard between his shoulder blades, shocked by how familiar it still felt, as though he could still feel the scars opening, scars that still littered that expanse of skin today.
“It never stops Stark, you and I know that better than anyone else” Loki continued to taunt, smiling at the effect he was having upon the hero, “give in to it, let that darkness consume you. I promise, it’s far more fun.”
Tony growled, tensing inside the suit, every muscle in his body stiffening as a memory he had long since forced to the very darkest recesses of his mind found its way to the light.
“Stay down boy” Howard snarled, as his fifteen year old son, a boy who had so quickly learnt to be a man in this household, struggled back to his knees, a deep cut open above his left eye, blood pouring down his face and over the eye that had swollen shut, dark bruising surrounding it and blossoming out onto his cheekbones.
Tony spat blood out onto the floor, his arms shaking as they held his weight, thankful that his injuries seemed to be minor this time, a few deep cuts and bruises but nothing broken, and god in what world was that something he should be grateful for? He hated this house.
“Stay down.” Howard snarled again, kicking Tony’s stomach and sending him sprawling onto his back, winding him and smiling at the harsh, gasping breaths his son was now trying to force down and into his lungs, enjoying the struggle, feeling superior in some perverse way.
His smug expression dropped into one of rage again as Tony forced himself back up onto his knees, shaking uncontrollably and wheezing in a way that would have concerned anyone else but Howard, determined to fight back, determined to stop being the cowardly little boy who cried in the corner.
“You little brat, stay down when I tell you” Howard screamed, taking his son’s hair forcefully in his hands and tugging at it painfully, lifting his knee to crash into his son’s face, laughing at the sickening crunch of Tony’s nose under his force, intoxicated by a strong mix of power and bourbon.
He threw Tony down once more, and walked away, Tony struggling to maintain consciousness and find his breath, his nose broken and throbbing painfully, his lungs barely receiving enough oxygen as he propped himself up against the lounge room wall, focusing on breathing deeply in an effort to distract himself from the pain.
The house was silent for a moment before he heard his father’s footsteps approaching again, groaning as he realised he was not finished with, that his months away at college were about to be made up for in one night, he closed his eyes, waiting for the blow to fall.
He felt his arm being lifted up, away from where it had been hanging loosely by his slumped torso, confused, he forced his eyes open in time to see his father slide a kitchen knife clean through his hand and into the wooden wall behind them, pinning him in place.
Tony’s eyes bulged, staring at his impaled palm, blood dripping from the underside of the knife, hardly noticing the pained scream he was emitting, unable to draw his focus from anything but the knife. He felt his father leaning in close, felt his rough, calloused hands clamp over Tony’s jaw, stifling his scream to a pitiful moan, pulling his son’s face close to his own and whispering “when I say stay down…”
Tony felt the intense pain, felt the sudden strange weight in the middle of his other palm and could only whimper around his father’s strong hand, splayed out against the wall, each arm pinned so he could not move, could not try and free himself from this torturous trap. His father all but growled in his ear, “you stay down” and pushed Tony’s head away for good measure, walking away and leaving his son to bleed in agony, only to be found by a maid close to ten hours later. A maid who would go on to be paid in the billions to keep quiet, and who had finally blown the whistle, decades later, to a reporter who would interview Tony Stark that very day.
Tony wretched, the memory he had so well buried, so forcibly blocked from himself in order to survive making him crumble, the pain overwhelming him as he screamed terribly.
“Please, please just kill me, don’t make me feel it again” Tony cried out, having no idea if Loki was listening, or if the demi-god would take pity on him and fulfil his request.
“Please make it stop” He cried out again, his eyes squeezed shut but his mind a blank slate, all the memories banished and replaced with the intense pain, a pain that filled him up so much that he couldn’t think or feel, couldn’t bring himself to do anything but sob at the sheer weight of it, pressing down on him from every direction.
He opened his eyes, Loki was laughing above him, and to his left there was a flash of red, white and blue, Tony didn’t know what either of those things meant anymore, all he knew was he didn’t want to feel like this. He heard his name, and the world went dark as if a switch had been flicked, and he begged to anyone that was around to listen “please, just kill me.”
Tony woke up in his bed at Stark tower, well aware that Jarvis was monitoring his every movement and scanning his vital signs, as he always did when they returned from a battle. His room was dark, the curtains drawn against the magnificent glass wall that looked out across New York, there was no sun peaking out from beneath the drapery, so he had no clue how long he had been out.
He groaned, his head pounding as he tried to make sense of what had happened, sifting through memories and placing them in categories of the past, and of today, finally working out that Loki had done something to screw with his head, bring up memories that Tony had long since tried to forget, in some misguided attempt at conversion to his cause.
He swung his legs out of bed, shaking unsteadily on them and realising it had been around thirty-six hours since he had eaten anything, depending on how long he had been out for. His stomach growled and he sighed, stumbling across the room in the dark and out into the hall, squinting as the sudden light blinded him.
“Hey, hey come here.” He heard Steve say, squinting as his boyfriend’s large figure came into view, now dressed down into a pair of sweats and one of Tony’s larger shirts, which meant that Tony had already missed the debrief while he was asleep, which meant he would have to fill out a report. Great. Paperwork.
Steve slipped an arm around his waist, taking almost all of Tony’s weight and practically carrying him on his hip into the living room, placing him on the lounge. “I could have done that myself Steve, and besides I was going to the kitchen.” Tony grumbled, annoyed about being manhandled in front of the team, who were all sitting around in the lounge room, engrossed in their usual post-battle wind downs.
“I know, your dinner is in the oven staying hot…just stay out here with everyone and rest, I wasn’t expecting you to wake up so soon, you copped a hit out there today” Steve said, kissing Tony’s forehead softly before padding over to the kitchen to retrieve Tony’s dinner.
“You ok man? Steve said Loki was messing with your head” Clint asked quietly, he was sitting in his usual spot beside Tony, and though everyone in the room seemed to be engrossed in their own tasks, Tony knew they were all listening in because they wanted to know how he was, but didn’t want to crowd him.
“I’ve got a killer headache, and I’m starving…but I’ll be ok Clint” Tony said, leaning back on the lounge and resting his eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing pain behind his eyes.
“Yeah I thought you might have a kind of mind control hangover, there’s some aspirin and water on the table if you need” Clint offered, not looking up from the handcrafted arrows he was carving, in order to get an exact balance for separate purposes, and to help him relax. Tony smiled, leaning forward to retrieve the drugs and hopefully relieve the pain. “I’m here if you need to unload Tony, I’ve been there as well.” Clint all but whispered, bumping Tony’s arm companionably.
“I know buddy…thanks” Tony replied, turning his head to look at Clint and flash him a genuine smile, glad, not for the first time, that he had this team to pick him up when he was down.
Steve came back into the room with a bowl of Tony’s favourite pasta, settling in beside his boyfriend and passing it over, resting his arm around Tony’s shoulders as the brunette ate, occasionally sending him a worried glance, and tightening his arm protectively.
“You ok?” Tony eventually asked in a whisper, setting his empty bowl down on the coffee table in front of him and turning in closer to Steve, so that only the two of them could hear, his brow furrowed in concern at this sudden change in behaviour. “Are you?” Steve countered, looking down at Tony, and once again curling his arm protectively around the older man.
“Steve I’m fine…he was messing with my head and making me say and see crazy things, but I’m fine now, so don’t worry” Tony assured him, smiling as convincingly as he could and cupping Steve’s jaw lovingly, trying to assuage the concern that still creased his boyfriends brow.
“You know you can talk to me right? About anything…if it’s…if it’s getting bad.” Steve whispered and Tony realised that maybe Steve heard some things that he really shouldn’t have today, and was now terrified of what Tony could do. He reached out, pressing their foreheads together, and letting Steve curl around him closely.
“I know baby…I know. I’m ok, that wasn’t really me today…that was Loki forcing me to be something I’m not anymore.” Tony whispered, trying to express his earnesty to Steve, who slowly nodded, not looking entirely convinced but willing to let the subject drop for now.
“Wait…anymore?” Steve asked, the concern flooding his features once more, but before Tony could soothe it Clint was leaping across them to retrieve the remote and turn up the sound, “It’s on!” he cried, and immediately everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to see Tony, sitting in the uncomfortable armchair of yesterday’s interview on their widescreen television.
Tony stiffened a little in Steve’s arms, his blood running cold as he remembered what could happen, realised that he had no idea what the station were planning on doing but assuming they would play the footage, and he couldn’t blame them, it was their job after all. “Come on can we not watch this?” Tony pleaded, attempting to snag the remote from Clint but being thwarted by Clint’s faster reflexes.
Clint laughs, throwing the remote over to Natasha who sits on top of it, making that route of escape an impossibility unless he’s willing to attain serious bodily harm in order to change the channel, “No way we are missing whatever it is you fucked up so badly that you don’t want us to see.” Clint laughed, and the rest of the team joined in, all of them watching Tony intently as he answered the usual questions, in his usual fashion.
“Well I don’t want to watch it.” Tony grumbled, attempting to wriggle out of Steve’s grip and escape back to his room, but finding himself trapped by his boyfriend’s far stronger arms. “Steve, let me go, I don’t want to watch it” Tony huffed, glaring up at his boyfriend.
“Oh come on it’s not going to be that bad Tony, whatever it is we probably wont even notice” Steve replied, pinning Tony in place and smiling, but Tony could see the repressed concern, and knew that Steve didn’t want him to be alone, wanted to be able to keep an eye, or preferably eyes on him after what he had heard today.
Tony sighed, pointedly looking anywhere but the screen, causing Clint to laugh at him and Steve to smile at him as though he were his entire world, and Tony knew that these were probably the last few minutes they had before the world flipped on it’s head for them all, so he tried to remember every second of it.
He tried once more to get them to switch channels when she asked the question before the one that he dreaded them seeing, but again was laughed down as Natasha just raised an eyebrow as if in invitation to him. He sighed, trying to make himself as small as possible so when the shit hit the fan, they wouldn’t see him break.
He cringed, as he heard her words, her voice grating against him like sandpaper, “Some have even said he abused you as a child, do you have anything to say to these rumours?”
He felt Steve stiffen, and heard both him and Clint mutter something about the media making up bullshit about the dead, and didn’t they have any respect? He winced at the silence that hung in the air before he heard his own voice stuttering, could feel the panic and the tension in his words despite refusing to look up at the screen, “Who told you that?”
Tony felt Steve’s eyes on him, could feel the whole teams eyes on him as the scene played out on the screen, his panicked words “I’m…I’m sorry I can’t, I can’t do this I need to…I need to go.” Before the interview cut, the reporter sitting in a studio and reflecting on her discovery, telling the world that Tony Stark had been hit as a child.
Someone, he supposed it must have been Natasha, switched off the TV. A phone rang, and then another one rang, and three of them received text messages but they all went unanswered, unheard as all eyes went to Tony, who was curled up, hiding his face from them.
“Tony…”Steve began, his voice sounded a strange mixture of angry and terrified that made him want to run away and hide, and never have to face Steve like that ever in his life, “Tony what was that.”
Tony withdrew slightly, feeling as though he owed Steve the dignity of looking him in the eye, “I told you I didn’t want to watch it” he said quietly, and that was enough for them all.
Steve’s face broke instantly, his eyes which had already been suspiciously bright began to glisten, as he let out a pained sob, wrapping himself around Tony’s back and clutching at him, as if holding him tightly enough could erase everything that had once happened, “Tell me that isn’t true…T-Tony please tell me that isn’t true” Steve cried, and he sounded like someone had ripped his heart from his chest.
Tony couldn’t, he couldn’t lie anymore, walls and masks couldn’t save him from this anymore, they knew, and he couldn’t tell them anything but the truth, but the truth was still painful so he stayed silent.
Clint beside him looked shell-shocked, staring at Tony with wide eyes and a gaping jaw, as through he couldn’t believe Tony were real, Thor had moved from across the room to sit on the coffee table in front of him, and was running a comforting hand over Tony’s knee as he had that night, months ago, when Tony had been crying in this very lounge room, the Asgardian finally realising the extent of his friend’s agony and feeling for the first time in his life, utterly helpless in the face of it. Natasha was…she was crying, staring at Tony with unblinking eyes, and tears quietly rolling down her cheeks, and he wouldn’t quite believe it if he weren’t seeing it himself, while Bruce sat in his chair, eyes still stuck at the TV, breathing deeply as though he were afraid he would Hulk out on them if he let himself look at Tony, and truly feel the anger that this sudden revelation has stirred in him.
They were quiet for a time, Steve’s harsh, racking sobs the only sound in the room, Tony still desperately trying to keep from falling apart, sick of letting this past control him and weaken him, but hearing Steve cry was chipping away at his resolve, “it’s ok Steve” Tony whispered and immediately regretted it as Steve pulled away quickly, looking at Tony incredulously.
“It’s ok? Tony it’s not ok, god what did he do to you? Tony what did that fucking bastard do to you?” he cried, and his pain was so raw that he tipped Tony over the edge with him, breaking through the steely resolve Tony had tried to build up his whole life.
“He hated me. Resented me. Felt threatened by me…so he put me in my place” Tony whimpered, the tears beginning to flow as he rubbed at the matching scars he had for so long ignored on his palms, “I was nothing more than a punching bag for eleven years of my life.”
He spilled his guts to Steve, told him about the memories that still haunted his sleep sometimes, told him about the maid who had been paid to stay quiet and the way his mother had been terrified to help him, and the whole team listened because now that the world knew what Howard Stark had really been, Tony needed them to have his back through this, and needed them to pick him up when he was sure to fall, and he loved every one of them, trusted them with this secret despite the fact he wished they had never had to know.
By the end of his confession Steve looked utterly shattered, holding onto Tony for dear life, the pair of them shaking in each other’s embrace as they cried, cried for the pain that was still so deep in Tony’s soul, that still screamed out at him sometimes when he least expected it. The team cried with them for the pain of one of their own, and for the years they had gone not realising who Tony really was, and how strong he had been to love them like he did.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve whimpered, pushing Tony’s hair back from where it had fallen across his eyes, unable to bear losing contact with Tony right now.
“He was your friend.” Tony whispered, and the world seemed to shatter around Steve as he crumbled once more, the sheer heartbreak and pain that his face betrayed made each of their hearts ache as he shook his head vehemently.
“No…not anymore…that man, that monster I can’t believe I ever thought I knew him. I’m so sorry Tony, I love you…god I love you and I put this burden on you, I brought you so much pain because of him” Steve whispered, shuffling impossibly closer and pressing kisses to his nose while trying to wipe away the tears that still flowed down Tony’s cheeks.
“Steve stop it, you didn’t know” Tony replied, trying to smile reassuringly, trying to help remove some of the pain and guilt that he hated seeing in Steve’s eyes. “I should have seen it” Steve said, looking away and trying to blink back his tears, shaking his head at his own blindness.
Tony reached out, cupping Steve’s jaw and pulling him back so their eyes met once more, “I love you and it’s ok…I’m ok, I’m going to be ok now.” Tony told him, encouraged slightly by the slight lift in Steve as he told him he loved him, realising that they had never said those words to each other before tonight, and annoyed that Howard had tainted that as well.
“I love you.” Steve whispered again, clearly close to breaking down again as he leaned in and wrapped himself around Tony, “I’ll keep you safe.” He said quietly, and there were the words Tony had wanted someone to say to him everyday of his life. Tony lost it as well, sobbing into his boyfriend’s shirt, reaching out blindly and immediately finding Clint’s hand, slipping into his own and gripping him tightly in a gesture of solidarity, Thor reached forward, stroking his hair comfortingly, before placing his heavy hand on Tony’s shoulder, silently telling him he would stand with him in this fight, just like all their others.
Bruce and Natasha followed suit, standing from their places across the room and joining the small sentinel around the couple, each somehow giving Tony a physical anchor to them to let him know that they were there, because he was such a physical person, and now they were beginning to understand why.
They sat in silence for a long time, the house phone finally silenced by Jarvis, allowing them to sit together and pretend the rest of the world had fallen away. Facing the public would be another battle, one they would have to fight together if Tony had any hope of making it through this.
Clint felt a lump rising in his throat as he watched his friends, completely broken in front of him, he had never felt so much anger as he did right now, directed at Howard fucking Stark, and everyone who had ever piled their shit onto Tony when he deserved nothing but the best. “I fucking love you Tony, you’re amazing. Fucking amazing. Don’t you ever fucking dare forget how much I care about you man, I’d stick with you to the end of the fucking earth.” He said, using his free hand to stroke the back of Tony’s head, running his hands through the dark hair to try and soothe Tony.
Tony looked up from where he had been curled into Steve and tried to smile, only managing a toothy grimace through his tears, and squeezed Clint’s hand hard in his own. “I know Clint…I know I’ve got you, got all of you…this is the best family I’ve ever known.”
Clint smiled back, swallowing his tears and trying to stay strong for Tony but he knew his eyes were bright, and Tony could see the glistening sheen that betrayed his emotions. He didn’t care much, only thinking about how much he would give for Tony, his friend, his brother to be ok.
They didn’t sleep that night, not properly at least. Each of them would drift in and out of consciousness occasionally but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement that they would remain together, and alert should Tony, or Steve for that matter, need them.
They stayed in the living room, Tony cocooned in Steve’s strong embrace, and surrounded by the protective guard of the team, grateful for their presence as his mind span, terrified of the reaction this information would garner in the public, already dreading the shouts of reporters and paparazzi as he walked down the street, the pitying glances of everyone he had ever met.
Short conversations would pop up between members of the team, basically whoever was awake at the time. They tried to take each other’s minds off of the pain that had settled itself deep in every one of their chests. Clint would tell stories about his days before the Avengers, or Bruce would rattle of a commentary on the latest news. Everything could have been completely normal, but they all knew it wasn’t, that it would never be the same really, and maybe that was ok, because now they were closer and they understood Tony a little bit better and they all loved him, more than they had ever thought possible in the early days of the team.
Just as the sun began to rise outside of the tower, its warm orange rays glancing through the impressive wall of glass that covered half the building, Tony shifted slightly, readjusting himself in Steve’s arms and settling in to watch the sunrise. He sighed, listening to the steady beating of Steve’s heart as he whispered, “I don’t want to see anyone else today…can we just stay here? Just us?”
Above his head he knew they were each throwing glances at each other but he didn’t have the energy to acknowledge it, letting his eyes slip closed as Steve pressed his lips to Tony’s hair, “Anything you need Tony” he answered, resting his cheek on the top of Tony’s head, and allowing Tony to snuggle into his chest, burying himself in his boyfriend’s comforting scent.
“I need you guys…I need us, this family, like we were before. I don’t want to be alone” Tony said quietly, and felt Clint move closer, saw through his tired eyes the protective stance the archer took on and smiled, falling into sleep as Thor said, as gently as he could ever remember the demi-god speaking, “You shall never be alone Anthony.”
As Tony fell into a light sleep, muttering and shifting against Steve’s chest at what the team was sure were nightmares that they would be helping him through for a long while yet, Steve looked up at his friends, all still sitting with them.
“How did we not see that?” He asked them, needing some kind of reassurance that he had not been blind, that he wasn’t alone in this shock.
Natasha shook her head, looking at him with a sadness he had barely seen her reveal in all the time he had known her, “I don’t know Steve, he buried this deep” she answered with a shrug, completely at a loss.
Bruce growled, causing them all to look at him in concern, he looked up at them and realised what he had done, looking away sheepishly, “sorry…I’ve got it under control I wont do that to him, not now, he needs me right now not the other guy.”
Steve smiled thankfully at him, before glancing down at Tony, running a soft thumb over his jaw as he slept, in awe of his boyfriend now more than ever, “I can’t believe he kept this from me, from all of us, for so long. God he must have been struggling in silence for years” he muttered, tears threatening to break out once more, as if he hadn’t already cried for hours.
“He doesn’t want to be a victim, doesn’t want anyone to think of him like that. Can you blame him from keeping this from his best friends when they’re all heroes?” Clint asked, staring at Tony with so much compassion, as though he’d give up all he had to make things right for Tony. Steve knew he probably would, that was who Clint was.
“He’s a hero too Clint.” Natasha reminded them, and Clint looked over to her before dropping his eyes back to Tony’s sleeping form, “I know that, but does he?”
Steve felt a lump rising in his throat as he thought of all the things he had said to Tony when they met, all the accusations and the insults because in Steve’s eyes he hadn’t lived up to Howard Stark’s name. The thought that Tony couldn’t live up to Howard now just made him feel sick, like someone had made a distasteful joke. Tony was worth more than a thousand of that monster combined.
“He did not want us to think him weak, us who he trusts and loves. He will not deal well I think, with the whole of Midgard knowing what he sees to be his greatest weakness.” Thor muttered, and that was what it all boiled down to, that was what their one, and only mission now had to become. Showing the world that this tragedy, this disgusting abuse was not Tony’s weakness, but the strongest battle he had ever fought in his life.
“We must protect Anthony from those too narrow minded to remember his bravery and valour” said Thor, and they all murmured their agreement. This was the most important thing they would ever do together. They had to save Tony Stark.
They spent the day as Tony had asked, in one another’s company. Below the tower there was a throng of journalists and paparazzi, waiting for one of the team to come out so that they could swarm them, wanting confirmation to the theories that had been set off as a result of Tony’s interview, the video of which had gone viral in minutes.
They tried to ignore the crowds at the base of their home, tried to pretend that it was a normal day, and that they were simply relaxing in the lounge room because they could, and because they loved to be together in an environment were nothing was threatening the safety of the world. The only difference was that now, monsters and demi-gods seemed like barely an annoyance compared to the new battle they were going to have to fight on Tony’s side, against idiotic and over-zealous media outlets.
They tried turning on the television once, wanting to put on a movie so that they could distract themselves from the outside world, but before they could select anything footage was playing of the tower, as a young reporter speculated with her liaison on the ground as to Tony’s fitness to act as an Avenger if he had such mental issues that would make completing an interview impossible. Clint growled at the screen and Natasha turned it off before an arrow, hammer or green fist was thrown through Tony’s expensive tech.
A helicopter hovered around the communal level of the tower, so Jarvis upped the tinting on the glass walls of the tower, preserving their privacy from the camera’s that searched desperately for images of the team after the news. Tony felt as though he would go mad if he couldn’t get away from the stigma, the names that would be attached next to his own when he flashed up on the news from now on, no longer would he be ‘Iron Man’ or ‘Avenger’, suddenly he would be ‘Victim’ and ‘Child Abuse Survivor.’
He felt as though he had won the last twenty years of battles against his father, only for Howard to turn around and win the war, erase any sense of worth Tony had managed to accumulate in one strike. In the end none of it had mattered, every person he saved and every threat he had neutralised, his father was still beating him down and making him feel like the terrified six year old whose father had just struck him for the first time.
Howard Stark would always be the enemy he could never pin down, the one who would always slink out of the shadows when finally the world felt right again.
Tony shuffled closer to Steve, needing the comfort of those strong arms, breathing in his familiar scent. Steve pressed a soft kiss to his ear, and whispered, his voice barely more than a breath against Tony’s skin, “I love you, no matter what. You’re my hero.”
Tony smiled, and squeezed his boyfriend tightly in return, holding on to this one thing that Howard had done right for his son, before Tony had even been born, and thinking that maybe. Maybe he could be ok now, because Howard had never really had the warmth that Tony could feel seeping into his very core as he lay with Steve, surrounded by the family he had never expected to love like he did.
No, Howard had never had this. And he couldn’t touch it either.