Marvel Fic - Surface Cracks
Dec. 31st, 2011 10:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shinysylverTitle: Surface Cracks
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shinysylver
Characters/Pairing: Steve/Tony (preslash)
Word Count: 1104
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Marvel Universes. Not even one.
Warning: none
Universe: movie
Summary: Tony hasn't seen Steve in a week and he's starting to get worried.
Author's Note:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hc_bingo 2011: Nervous Breakdown . A "nervous breakdown" is not a technical medical term, but the best I could gather is that it can include a mix of symptoms that fall in the depression and anxiety categories and come on quickly. So, I worked mostly with the depression angle.
Tony hadn’t seen Captain America in a week. At first it had been a welcome relief. Tony didn’t exactly miss having a judgmental American icon lecture him about Iron Man’s inability to work with the team and he certainly didn’t miss Steve complaining about all of the indecent things Tony chose to do in his free time, but after a few days he began to grow concerned. After all, Steve was nothing if not predictable and he hadn’t sought Tony out for an argument since last Sunday when he’d gone to the nursing home to visit Peggy.
Oh.
He dropped the screwdriver he was holding and grabbed his car keys. It took longer than Tony would have liked to make it across town and over the bridge to the apartment in Brooklyn that Fury had arranged for Steve after he’d finally decided that Steve had adjusted well enough to the new century not to need a baby sitter.
When Tony knocked on the door no one answered and he was tempted to just walk away and assume that Steve was out. He could have been busy this week, too busy to stop by Tony’s lab at all hours to talk about the latest hurdle in his adaption to the twenty-first century, but Tony knew better. He could hear the faint strains of “We’ll Meet Again” playing on the other side of the door.
He sighed and knocked again. “I know you’re in there so you might as well open the door.”
A moment later the door swung inward and a very tired looking Steve glared at him. “Go away, Tony. I’m not in the mood to deal with you.”
“Tough,” Tony said, pushing around Steve and into the living room. He walked over to the record player and picked up the needle.
“I was listening to that,” Steve said, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his face. His hands made a soft scraping sound as they dragged over his stubble.
“No wonder you aren’t in a good mood.” Tony jerked his thumb at the record still spinning on the player. “That music is fucking depressing.”
“I like it,” Steve said defensively. “It’s familiar.” He looked up at Tony. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
Tony shrugged. “I hadn’t seen you in a while.”
“Well here I am,” Steve spread his arms out wide. “Still alive.”
Tony nearly flinched at the way Steve’s face twisted in disgust as he said the word “alive.” He sat down next to Steve on the couch. “Try not to look so happy about it.”
Steve slumped back, rested his head on the back of the couch, and stared at the ceiling. “Would you like me to lie to you?”
“Not particularly,” Tony replied. He leaned back, mirroring Steve’s position. “There are a lot of cracks in your ceiling.”
“It’s an old building,” Steve said. “It’s starting to fall apart.”
“They aren’t structural,” Tony corrected. “They just give it character.”
When Steve didn’t say anything for several minutes, Tony glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” Steve answered. “If it makes you feel better I’ll be there when Fury calls with a mission.”
“I could care less about that,” Tony said. “What happened at the nursing home?”
Steve didn’t answer at first and Tony stayed silent counting the cracks on the ceiling while he waited.
“Peggy’s not well,” Steve finally said in a dull voice. “Seeing me upset her. She thought it was still 1943 and I had just kissed that secretary…”
Tony made a mental note to ask Steve to tell him the story about the secretary later. “I’m sorry, Steve.”
“It’s not your fault,” Steve replied. “I just…sometimes I wish I had died in that crash. I was supposed to die in that crash. I don’t belong here.”
“I was supposed to die in a cave in Afghanistan,” Tony said, suddenly seeing the dark walls of the cave instead of Steve's cracked ceiling. “But people like you and me, we’re stubborn. We don’t do what we’re supposed to.”
“It’s not the same thing, Tony,” Steve disagreed. He shifted around until he was looking at Tony. “You came home to your friends. My last living connection to my former life is dying slowly trapped inside her mind.”
Tony turned his head to meet Steve’s eyes. “I’m sorry, that sucks, it really does, but I’m not going to let you hide out here and trap yourself in the past.”
“Why do you even care?” Steve asked. “No one else cares what I do as long as I show up to fight.”
“The thing is, regardless of how much you manage to irritate me—and trust me you do—I’ve gotten used to your presence,” Tony said. He hesitated before continuing. “I may have missed you this week.”
The corner of Steve’s lips turned up a fraction. “Why Tony, I didn’t know you cared.”
“Trust me, I didn’t know I did either,” Tony muttered.
Steve actually smiled at that. It was a brief smile, but a real one, and Tony was happy to see it. “I think you’re the only one. Fury and Coulson could care less as long as they can put my name in the PR release.”
“Fury is a heartless control freak and Coulson needs to have the stick surgically removed from his ass,” Tony said with a scowl. “Did you know he threatened me with a taser once?”
“You probably deserved it.”
“That’s not the point,” Tony said. “The point is they are idiots if they think that Captain America is just a publicity coup or a special weapon to pull out on occasion.”
Steve sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. “But what about Steve Rogers? What is he?”
“He’s in need of a bath, is what he is,” Tony said lightly, not comfortable with Steve’s question. “Go take a shower, Steve, and then I’m going to take you out to dinner.”
“You don’t have to,” Steve mumbled.
“No, but I want to,” Tony said. “And Steve, I’m used to getting what I want.”
Steve shook his head, but stood up. “I bet you are.”
Once Steve had left the room, Tony called in a dinner reservation and then texted Pepper, telling her to clear his schedule for the next few days. Tony was pretty sure he was the worst person in the world to help someone through a breakdown or depression or whatever it was Steve was going through, but he was going to try his best. Steve deserved that much.
Author:
shinysylverCharacters/Pairing: Steve/Tony (preslash)
Word Count: 1104
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Marvel Universes. Not even one.
Warning: none
Universe: movie
Summary: Tony hasn't seen Steve in a week and he's starting to get worried.
Author's Note:
hc_bingo 2011: Nervous Breakdown . A "nervous breakdown" is not a technical medical term, but the best I could gather is that it can include a mix of symptoms that fall in the depression and anxiety categories and come on quickly. So, I worked mostly with the depression angle. Tony hadn’t seen Captain America in a week. At first it had been a welcome relief. Tony didn’t exactly miss having a judgmental American icon lecture him about Iron Man’s inability to work with the team and he certainly didn’t miss Steve complaining about all of the indecent things Tony chose to do in his free time, but after a few days he began to grow concerned. After all, Steve was nothing if not predictable and he hadn’t sought Tony out for an argument since last Sunday when he’d gone to the nursing home to visit Peggy.
Oh.
He dropped the screwdriver he was holding and grabbed his car keys. It took longer than Tony would have liked to make it across town and over the bridge to the apartment in Brooklyn that Fury had arranged for Steve after he’d finally decided that Steve had adjusted well enough to the new century not to need a baby sitter.
When Tony knocked on the door no one answered and he was tempted to just walk away and assume that Steve was out. He could have been busy this week, too busy to stop by Tony’s lab at all hours to talk about the latest hurdle in his adaption to the twenty-first century, but Tony knew better. He could hear the faint strains of “We’ll Meet Again” playing on the other side of the door.
He sighed and knocked again. “I know you’re in there so you might as well open the door.”
A moment later the door swung inward and a very tired looking Steve glared at him. “Go away, Tony. I’m not in the mood to deal with you.”
“Tough,” Tony said, pushing around Steve and into the living room. He walked over to the record player and picked up the needle.
“I was listening to that,” Steve said, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his face. His hands made a soft scraping sound as they dragged over his stubble.
“No wonder you aren’t in a good mood.” Tony jerked his thumb at the record still spinning on the player. “That music is fucking depressing.”
“I like it,” Steve said defensively. “It’s familiar.” He looked up at Tony. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
Tony shrugged. “I hadn’t seen you in a while.”
“Well here I am,” Steve spread his arms out wide. “Still alive.”
Tony nearly flinched at the way Steve’s face twisted in disgust as he said the word “alive.” He sat down next to Steve on the couch. “Try not to look so happy about it.”
Steve slumped back, rested his head on the back of the couch, and stared at the ceiling. “Would you like me to lie to you?”
“Not particularly,” Tony replied. He leaned back, mirroring Steve’s position. “There are a lot of cracks in your ceiling.”
“It’s an old building,” Steve said. “It’s starting to fall apart.”
“They aren’t structural,” Tony corrected. “They just give it character.”
When Steve didn’t say anything for several minutes, Tony glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” Steve answered. “If it makes you feel better I’ll be there when Fury calls with a mission.”
“I could care less about that,” Tony said. “What happened at the nursing home?”
Steve didn’t answer at first and Tony stayed silent counting the cracks on the ceiling while he waited.
“Peggy’s not well,” Steve finally said in a dull voice. “Seeing me upset her. She thought it was still 1943 and I had just kissed that secretary…”
Tony made a mental note to ask Steve to tell him the story about the secretary later. “I’m sorry, Steve.”
“It’s not your fault,” Steve replied. “I just…sometimes I wish I had died in that crash. I was supposed to die in that crash. I don’t belong here.”
“I was supposed to die in a cave in Afghanistan,” Tony said, suddenly seeing the dark walls of the cave instead of Steve's cracked ceiling. “But people like you and me, we’re stubborn. We don’t do what we’re supposed to.”
“It’s not the same thing, Tony,” Steve disagreed. He shifted around until he was looking at Tony. “You came home to your friends. My last living connection to my former life is dying slowly trapped inside her mind.”
Tony turned his head to meet Steve’s eyes. “I’m sorry, that sucks, it really does, but I’m not going to let you hide out here and trap yourself in the past.”
“Why do you even care?” Steve asked. “No one else cares what I do as long as I show up to fight.”
“The thing is, regardless of how much you manage to irritate me—and trust me you do—I’ve gotten used to your presence,” Tony said. He hesitated before continuing. “I may have missed you this week.”
The corner of Steve’s lips turned up a fraction. “Why Tony, I didn’t know you cared.”
“Trust me, I didn’t know I did either,” Tony muttered.
Steve actually smiled at that. It was a brief smile, but a real one, and Tony was happy to see it. “I think you’re the only one. Fury and Coulson could care less as long as they can put my name in the PR release.”
“Fury is a heartless control freak and Coulson needs to have the stick surgically removed from his ass,” Tony said with a scowl. “Did you know he threatened me with a taser once?”
“You probably deserved it.”
“That’s not the point,” Tony said. “The point is they are idiots if they think that Captain America is just a publicity coup or a special weapon to pull out on occasion.”
Steve sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. “But what about Steve Rogers? What is he?”
“He’s in need of a bath, is what he is,” Tony said lightly, not comfortable with Steve’s question. “Go take a shower, Steve, and then I’m going to take you out to dinner.”
“You don’t have to,” Steve mumbled.
“No, but I want to,” Tony said. “And Steve, I’m used to getting what I want.”
Steve shook his head, but stood up. “I bet you are.”
Once Steve had left the room, Tony called in a dinner reservation and then texted Pepper, telling her to clear his schedule for the next few days. Tony was pretty sure he was the worst person in the world to help someone through a breakdown or depression or whatever it was Steve was going through, but he was going to try his best. Steve deserved that much.
