3
THIS ROUND IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
ROUND FOUR WILL OPEN AT 10PM EST ON MONDAY THE 14TH.
ROUND THREE
closing at 5000 comments
Please read the [rules] before commenting!
REMINDER: THERE IS A SPOILER POLICY IN PLACE UNTIL 7 MAY.
PROMPT FORMATTING:
Alphabetize pairings. They will be archived that way!Put [RPF] before RPF prompts ( Read more... )
~~~~~~
“Tony?” Natasha repeated. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, I’m just... I’m just a guy. I mean, I don’t... I’m not special. I’m the merchant of death, and I’ve probably killed more people than I’ve ever saved, and I partied away half my life, my liver’s shot to hell and I’m not really good at anything.” He looked at them all. “I’m not like you.”
Steve frowned and moved in close. “What do you mean?”
They saw Tony swallow and shrink in on himself, against Thor, even as he turned a hand out towards Steve.
“I’m not a hero. Never have been. I’m just a guy... in a suit. I’m sorry I said that you came out of a bottle, I was angry, and you were right and I just hurt and I lashed out like I always do. Dad was right about you. I know, I read his journals. Even before the super soldier project you always tried to do the right thing. I didn’t. I drank and I partied and sold weapons. I didn’t care. I’m not like you.”
“Tony, that’s not true,” Bruce said quietly, while Steve could only stare at Tony, horrified. “You didn’t know-”
“I sold weapons. I should have known. I should have cared, but I didn’t. I didn’t care...” He trailed off and let go of Thor at last, and stood staring at the slick tiled floor. “I’m a bad person.”
After a moment he moved away from them, out of the kitchen and into the living room. He wasn’t heading for the bar, he stopped in front of the panoramic windows and looked out at the city beneath, hands against the glass, forehead slowly leaning closer. Natasha shook herself and Steve coughed, uncomfortable. Thor looked at his hands and then at Tony.
“Jesus,” Clint murmured. “Tony Stark, stripped.”
“This is really bad,” Natasha said, eyes still on Tony. She wasn’t letting him out of her sight for a minute, not if it meant Pepper coming after her with one of those heels. “His company depends on him, all those people employed by Stark Industries, thousands of contracts around the world, even without the weapons contracts. If he does anything, says anything...” She trailed off. Tony had already said enough. And would probably say a lot more.
“I think right now the only one who has anything to fear from Tony Stark, is Tony Stark,” Bruce said.
They were all silent for a moment, staring at Tony, considering his open state. Bruce had said he was more open to suggestion, but with every innocent admission it another came, escalation, and it became clear just how defenseless Tony was. And even as it did, they were all itching to ask more, to dig, to see just how much Tony would tell them. They had all thought the same thing they had since Bruce had given them his diagnosis, since Tony had begun to spill his dirty little secrets.
Take advantage. They didn’t want to, but they could. Just to see how far they could go.
How much they could find out.
“We’re all assholes,” Clint said.
tbc
Reply
Still, this was more than worth the wait, Nonny! Don't feel pressured, take all the time you need.
Reply
I've got maybe another part, and it's much more happy, less angsty and then done!
Reply
My heart! Ugh, this is just so good. I can't wait for the next part. :D
Reply
Reply
That...is really sucky for Tony.
Reply
The poor wee bairn.
Reply
Reply
Or not... *posts a few more parts*
Reply
Natasha, in fear of Pepper's heels, is possibly the best thing ever. Just sayin.
This deserves all the internet cookies that ever were, and maybe banana bread.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
------
Tony slid down to kneel on the floor. He seemed a bit woozy, a bit drunk, like he'd reached the end of a long night of partying.
“Hey! Look! It’s an itsy bitsy spider!”
They all stopped what they were doing and looked out as a figure slid down, upside down even, along the glass. The figure hung by a thin rope, no, not a rope, a string of web...
“Spiderman,” Natasha said. “Oh great. Just what we needed, the high-school gossip. Soon we’ll have the Fantastic Four here as well!”
“How do you know he’s the high-school gossip?” Clint asked. Natasha just looked at him.
Steve was the one who headed towards them, watching as Spiderman hung suspended, eyes level with Tony’s. Tony pressed his nose against the glass, hands as well as if he was trying to reach through and touch the strange creature outside his penthouse.
“Do you want to come inside?” Steve asked, loud.
“Oh yeah, invite him in! I like him. He’s kinda neat. We should invite him on the team as well! He’d make excellent webs if you... if you need to catch me again.” Tony trailed off.
Outside the window, Spiderman shook his head. He waved at Tony, gave him the thumbs up and took off, shooting web as he went and then disappearing with a stomach-dropping fall. Steve looked down at Tony. His eyes were still wide and his face open, free of guile. There was something almost childlike about him. Childish disappointment ghosted over his face and he seemed to crumple in on himself.
“Tony? What’s wrong?”
“I’m hungry. My head hurts. My chest hurts. I think the SI stock is going to take a pummeling come tuesday. I thought he might want to come inside,” he murmured. “But I don’t think he does. I don’t think he wants to be on the same team as me.”
Steve sat down next to him and took hold of his shoulder.
“Tony, why do you think he doesn’t want to come inside, or be on the same team as you? You’re awesome, we said so. You’re smart, funny, a bit annoying sometimes but-”
“I did business with Osborne once. Osborne was the Green Goblin and Spiderman was nearly killed by the Green Goblin.” Tony wiped at his nose and stared out to where Spiderman had disappeared. “I’m not like you.”
“Like who?” Steve asked, bewildered. “Tony, you can’t seriously take the blame for Osborne trying to murder Spiderman just because you did business with him!”
“With Osborne. Put his inventions into production. Probably made his bombs. Shit.” Tony latched on to Steve again, desperate now. “I’m not like you! Not like you. I’m sorry about the bottle-crack I really am, I didn’t mean it. You were good even before then and I... dad always talked about you. How you were strong, heroic, brave. You always did your best. And I... I didn’t. How could I? How could I ever measure up to you? To that ideal? And he searched for you for so long. I don’t think anyone searched for me...”
He trailed off, voice weak. Steve held on to Tony almost as tightly as Tony held on to him. It was an endless circle of going round and around, berating himself, blaming himself, he wasn’t good enough, not strong enough, not brave enough. Tony’s lips moved, but his voice was so low, the words strange, and Steve only caught a few, “Yinsen... Cap... Yinsen... Cap...”
It sounded like arabic. Did Tony speak arabic?
Reply
“It’s pashto. I think he learned it from Yinsen while they were held captive,” Natasha said quietly, just behind them. Steve looked up to see Bruce, Thor, and Clint gathered around as well.
“What’s he saying?”
“He’s saying that Yinsen would have liked Captain America,” JARVIS said. Even the AI was quiet now, as if picking up on his master’s distress. “He’s saying Yinsen would have approved of Tony spending time with Captain America, picking up on his good influence.”
“Right. That’s enough.” Steve stood. He dragged Tony along with him, held his pliant body in his arms and dragged him off to Tony’s bedroom. “That’s enough. Stop talking, Tony, stop saying that. It’s not true.”
“Is too,” Tony said, but he was crashing now it seemed.
“Is not. You’ve made mistakes, but you’re paying for them now. You were ignorant, but you’ve learned. And you’re brave.”
“I’m a coward. I’m afraid,” Tony murmured against Steve’s chest. “I’m afraid of dying, afraid of losing, afraid of not being what you need... no one remembering me. No one being proud.”
Steve put him to bed, and sat with him, held his hand. “You’re afraid, and you still fight. I think that’s brave enough,” he said. A small smile escaped and Tony’s face lit up, beautiful and maybe just a bit punch drunk still.
“Hey,” he said. “I gotta secret.”
Steve smirked. “What?”
“I got Captain America underpants,” Tony said, and then he passed out.
Steve sat staring at him, a bit horrified, a bit embarrassed, but mostly fighting the urge to laugh.
Reply
“Well, he’s asleep for now,” Steve said when he got back down to the living room.
Natasha was on the phone again, and she pressed the speaker to let Fury’s voice wash over them.
“He’s sedated?”
“No, just sleeping.”
“Make sure he stays that way until this stuff wears off.”
“We’ll take turns watching him,” Steve said. He looked at the others. “That’s okay, right?”
They all nodded.
“Good,” Fury said. “Natasha?”
Natasha put him on phone again, and wandered off to finish her conversation. Clint looked a bit uncomfortable and gave Steve a sheepish grin. “Fury said that if Stark turned out to be any danger, wandering off and spilling SHIELD secrets that we should maybe, lock him up for a week or two. He wasn’t half-joking.”
Steve stared at him. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth. “We are not locking Tony Stark up anywhere. Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. Since we have no idea when this stuff wears off, and he seems kind of tired now, we’ll take turns watching him. An hour each. Okay?”
“Yeah.” They all nodded and Thor volunteered to take the first watch while the others got some rest. They collapsed in a near-pile on the couch, and Clint sat punching buttons listlessly on the remote.
“I’m worn out,” he said.
“Me too,” Bruce muttered. “Who’d have thought listening to Tony Stark telling us what a shitty person he is would be so emotionally draining?”
“Shitty person he thinks he is,” Steve muttered, only slightly peeved. Bruce patted his head, kind of the way one might pat a dog.
“Exactly what I meant. It’s like all the energy just got sucked out.”
“Man, I swear, I am never giving him shit ever again. Except on days that end in a y. And only to keep up appearances. Can’t let him think I’ve gone soft.”
“That’s a good plan,” Natasha said and slid in between him and Steve, and tucked her feet up beneath Bruce’s thighs.
They took turns through the night. While most slept, one would go up and check on Tony. They sat watching, listening to him dream or mutter, or whisper in French, Italian, Pashto. Steve held Tony through a nightmare. He’d never seen anyone lie so rigid, back spasming while tears wet the sheets beneath him. He didn’t want to wake Tony up, not in case Tony said anything, but at last he had to and Tony stared at him.
“Not a dream,” Tony said.
“No. Not a dream,” Steve returned. “Go back to sleep.”
“Okay. Whatever you want,” and then Tony was asleep before Steve could even let that statement fully sink in. Open to suggestion, Bruce had said. Whatever you want.
Natasha took over after him. She sat in her chair and let Tony mewl in his bed, only occasionally nudging him with her toe when he got too loud. She got through three levels of Mouse, and beat an anonymous opponent soundly with a drawing of Lilo and Stitch. Tony didn’t wake once, only lay still, and then Clint was there and Tony was still dead to the world.
“Think I should ask him about his childhood?” Clint asked. Nat was still there, hiding in the shadows.
“Go ahead. If you want to.”
Clint folded his arms and legs, and sat perched on the small chair with a sour look on his face.
“That’s the thing though. I don’t actually want to.”
“Mh-hm. That’s the thing,” Natasha echoed. “It’s not as fun asking when you already know the answer.”
Reply
Leave a comment