Chapter Text
Tony loved Steve, he did, but the guy got him into more trouble than he could ever get into himself. Don't get Tony wrong, he was a natural troublemaker, he *loved* making trouble. He had no problem stealing one of Howard's cars for a joyride or pulling some prank or even getting drunk and making a public spectacle of himself. Hey, what were a few hours of community service?
But Steve took it to a new level. The sort of trouble he got into with Steve tended to be more of the "if we get caught, we'll wind up doing twenty-five to life in a federal penitentiary" sort of trouble.
You know, like hacking into the DOD or sneaking Steve out of the infirmary of a top-secret intelligence base so that he could break up with his boyfriend. That sort of thing.
Not that Tony had any regrets. Steve was his best friend and that's the sort of things you did; go to prison, hide the body sort of things.
That was why he was here now, even though that Fury guy kept coming in and glaring at him. And what the fuck was up with that eye-patch? Was Fury a pirate? Maybe Tony would offer to make Fury a cybernetic eye. Was that creepy? Maybe that was creepy.
"Are cybernetic eyes creepy?" Tony asked, staring up at the ceiling, stroking Steve's hair as he cried (and fuck feelings, seriously, fuck them) into Tony's shirt.
"W-What?" Steve rubbed the tears from his eyes. "Are you thinking about Nick again? Seriously, Tony, I don't think he's going to let you build him a robotic eyeball."
"But it would be so cool! He'd be able to see in the dark. Wouldn’t you like to see in infrared?" he asked, looking into the security camera, which promptly swiveled away. "Hey, don't turn away from me when I'm talking to you! I know you're listening, Fury." He turned to Steve. "He's probably taping us so he can sell it on the black market. There are probably some weird fetishists out there that'd pay top dollar to see two white boys cuddling on a hospital bed. Do you think he'd give me a cut?"
"I think you had way too many double espressos today," Steve said, laying his head back on Tony's chest. "You don't have to stay here, you know."
"Shut up." Tony tugged on Steve's earlobe. "I'm not going anywhere. I was promised hair braiding and a pedicure."
"I forgot my nail polish."
"Goddammit, Steve! Now the whole night's ruined."
"I'm serious, Tony. You should be out celebrating."
'Tony rolled his eyes. "Celebrating what?"
Steve lifted his head. "You just graduated summa cum laude from MIT, that's what. We were gonna drive down last week and surprise you with a special dinner. He didn't say anything? What about your mom, she didn't throw you a party?"
"Are you kidding? We're talking about Howard and Maria Stark." Tony snorted. "Mom called to congratulate me and berate me for not attending the graduation ceremony and despite the dinner I know that *you* planned, Howard's got his head up his ass. Like always."
"You shouldn't talk about him that way, Tony. He's your dad." Steve's breath hitched slightly and his lower lip wobbled, but he didn’t start crying again, for which Tony was grateful.
"I don't know why you're defending him, Steve. He was an utter asshole to you."
Steve rolled away onto his back. "I know it's sick, but I still love him. I miss him. And I know you're just trying to be a good friend, but I just… I can't hear that right now. I can't hear you say bad things about him."
"Okay. Okay, I can try, but no promises. After all, my history with Howard is longer than yours and I may have some legitimate parental gripes. You know, like the fact that he didn't fucking congratulate me on graduating from his fucking alma mater."
"What a jerk," Steve said, wiping his eyes. "But hey, when I get out of here, officially, we should do something. Go out to eat or go to a club or something. I bet my mom would make you a cake."
Yeah, yeah, Tony bet she would. Sarah was good about those sorts of things. "I wouldn't say no to cake."
Steve smiled. "You never say no to cake."
"I can't help it, it's a failing of mine. So when are they letting you out of here anyway. Officially, I mean."
"A couple of days. They want to make sure the fever doesn’t come back." Steve sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll be glad when I can get out of here. It's so boring and they keep sending a psychiatrist to talk to me. It's kind of weird."
"Psychiatrists are all weird. At least all the ones I've gone to have been weird. I usually just make up shit. You know, like dreaming about my dad stabbing me with his sword or flying through a tunnel with my mom."
"You want me to tell the psychiatrist that I dream about your dad stabbing me with his sword? That's sick, Tony."
Tony stuck out his tongue. "Your face is sick."
"*Your* face is sick." Steve flicked the end of Tony's nose.
"Ouch! Jerk!" Tony elbowed him in the stomach, gently. "I'm bored, let's watch another movie. What do you want to see first, Terminator or Aliens?
Steve stretched out on the bed. "Terminator."
"Terminator it is. Hey, Fury, order us a couple of pizzas. The works, no anchovies! Oh, and have one of your lackeys bring us some Cokes. And some nail polish, too, because I'm getting my fucking pedicure."
*****
After a few days, the novelty of hanging out in a super-secret spy base wore off and Tony was getting bored, so Steve sent him home to unpack and eat a home cooked meal and let Jarvis know that he was alive. Tony was willing to stick around, but after the third time Tony tried—and succeeded, thank you very much— hacking SHIELD's computers, Steve told him to get out and not to come back for twenty-four hours.
"Nick's eye keeps twitching," Steve told him. "That's never a good sign."
"How can you tell with that patch? Alright, alright, I’m out." He jumped off the bed and flipped off the cameras. "Down with jackboots and tyranny! Except for you, Fury." Tony winked and blew a kiss. "You really pull off the militaristic thug look."
Then Steve threw a pillow and it smacked him in the face "Get out of here, Tony."
Tony blew him a kiss, too. "Love you, cupcake. Be a good boy while I'm gone."
Ha! He managed to duck out of the way of the second pillow.
*****
"Honey, I'm home," Tony called out as he strode into the house. "Hello?" He rolled his eyes, of course no one came out to greet him. He headed straight for the kitchen, and, oh, yeah, judging from the smell, Jarvis was definitely there. "Are those cupcakes?"
"Yes, sir," said Jarvis, who handed him one. "Welcome home and congratulations on your graduation."
Tony smiled and blinked rapidly. "Thanks, Jarvis. How did you know I was going to be home today?"
"That would be telling, young sir." Jarvis poured Tony a glass of milk.
"Steve call you?" He licked at the chocolate frosting and Jarvis smiled. "So where's the old man? Off kicking puppies and setting fire to orphanages?"
Jarvis's smile faded away and he began to wipe down the already very clean kitchen island.
"What?" Tony narrowed his eyes. "Today *is* Sunday right? It's hard to tell when you're in an underground bunker."
"It is. Mr. Stark is in his bedroom." Jarvis rubbed at a spot almost obsessively. "He's been there all day."
"I don't think you can rub the color out of the marble, Jarvis. But thanks for trying." Tony took a bite of his cupcake, then washed it down with some of the milk. "Does he have a guy up there?"
"No, sir, he's alone." Jarvis gave up on wiping the counter and rearranged the cupcakes.
"It's one in the afternoon. What the hell is he doing up there?"
"I couldn't say, sir." Which, in Jarvis-speak, meant that he knew, but he wasn’t saying.
Tony finished his cupcake and milk. "I'm going to go unpack," he said and Jarvis raised an eyebrow because that was such a lie. He never unpacked his own clothes. Jarvis gave him a couple of weeks to do it himself, but he never did.
"Very good, sir," Jarvis said blandly.
Tony saluted Jarvis, then went up to find out what was making Jarvis so twitchy When he got to Howard's bedroom door, he hesitated a moment, but his curiosity got the better of him He twisted the handle and slowly opened the door. And, okay, wow, it smelled a bit like New Orleans at Mardi Gras, which, not a great smell for a bedroom.
Tony took a deep breath and slipped into the dim room, only to be greeted by Howard, who was sort of sprawled on the bed, the headboard propping him up. He looked like shit: his clothes were wrinkled and dirty, his hair was greasy, and his eyes were puffy and red like he'd been… huh.
"Hey," Howard slurred, lifting up a bottle of vodka, then taking a swig. He grimaced. "Ugh, even the good stuff tastes like paint thinner."
"You're disgusting." Tony wrinkled his nose and looked at the bottles littering the bed. "Did you drink of all of that yourself?"
"Don't worry, 'm pacing myself so I don't choke on my own vomit." Howard grinned. Well, he tried to grin, but didn't quite make it; it looked more like he was baring his teeth. "Hey, pull up a bottle and join me. Get a head start on your future. You got your mom's eyes and your impending alcoholism from me! You're welcome!"
Tony shook his head; he'd seen Howard drunk before, but never like this. Never several days into a bender drunk. "Maybe you should stop while you're ahead."
Howard brought the bottle to his mouth again, but didn't drink. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then did it again. "Yeah, yeah, maybe you're right. Gotta pace myself."
"Right," Tony said. God, Howard was pathetic. What Steve saw in him, Tony would never know. "I just got back from visiting Steve."
Howard cradled the bottle of vodka to his chest and gave Tony a stunned sort of look. "Is… Is he all right?"
"What do you care?" Tony went to the window and opened it to let in fresh air.
"Tony, please," Howard said, his voice shaking. "Tell me that he's all right."
Anger surged through Tony and he whirled around. "He's not all right, Dad. He almost died a week ago. He almost died and the one person he needed the most wasn't there! And not only wasn't he there, he made it quite clear he didn’t give a shit! So, no, Dad, I’m not going to tell you that Steve's all right when he's not."
"You have to understand. You--
"No, I don't. I don’t have to understand a goddamn thing!" Tony grabbed the bottle out of Howard's hands and threw it across the room. The bottle hit the wall and broke, splattering vodka everywhere. "You make me sick!"
Howard flinched at the words and Tony felt the slow burn of satisfaction in his belly. "I make myself sick. I… I had to let him go, Tony. I had to. You were right, Sarah was right. You were *all* so right! I try so hard to be *good.*"
"This is you *trying?*
"So hard." Howard hunched his shoulders, his eyes shiny. "But I'm not. I'm not good. My mom and dad knew, that's why they—" He squeezed his eyes closed and let out a choked sob. "I'm broken inside. I'm broken, Tony. That's why when Sarah—She knew, knows I'm broken. She had to protect Steve from me."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Tony suddenly felt uneasy.
"I wanted to stay." Howard opened his eyes. "I wanted to stay so bad. I promised Steve, I promised him. But they wouldn’t let me! They made me go!" His voice broke and curled in on himself, tears streaming down his face. "They knew I'd hurt him."
Tony took a step back because he wasn't… Steve crying was one thing, but Howard… Howard didn't cry. Howard never cried. Hell, Howard didn't let other people cry in his presence because it might contaminate him.
"I'm a monster," Howard said, his breath coming in gasps. "Maybe if… if I didn't love him so much. But I do, God, I do. And when he asks, he needs so much, and when he asks I just want to give him *everything.* God, what's wrong with me, Tony? What's wrong with me?"
Tony had a long list of shit that was wrong with Howard, but he found he couldn't do it. He couldn't kick Howard when he was down. Instead, he-- and oh, God, he'd regret it later—walked over and put his hand on Howard's shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Dad."
Howard sobbed and lunged forward, pressing his face to Tony's chest. And there it was, Tony's punishment for trying to be nice. Yeah, this was great, nice and awkward. Howard babbled drunkenly and his tears soaked the front of Tony's shirt.
Tony patted his back, murmuring softly, until Howard slumped against him. He carefully laid Howard back against the bed. "Why don't you rest, Dad," he said, surprising himself with the gentleness of his tone. "I'll have Jarvis bring you some coffee."
Howard turned away, curling into a ball. "Why can't I be good, Tony? Why do I have to be broken." He sounded exhausted and resigned. "It's lonely."
"I don't know, Dad. I just… I don't know." Then before Howard could ask any more questions, Tony turned and fled.
Jarvis was waiting for him at the top of the stairs, looking worried.
"Should we call somebody?" Tony asked, gesturing to Howard's room. "A doctor or 911 or something."
"No, sir." Jarvis put a hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezed gently.
"We can't leave him like that! He's going to drink himself to death or… or… hang himself."
"He'll be fine in another week or so."
Dammit! How could Jarvis be so calm! Tony flung his hands in the air. "You don't know that!"
"Actually, sir, I do," Jarvis said, quietly and Tony stared at him in surprise.
"He's done this before? When?"
"Only once." Jarvis swallowed hard and looked into Tony's eyes. "When your mother left. He locked himself in his bedroom with all the alcohol in the house and didn't leave his room for two weeks."
"He—" Tony's chest hurt and forced himself to breathe around the pain. "He said that he wanted to stay with Steve but he was forced to go."
Jarvis raised an eyebrow as if that piece of news wasn't a surprise. "Indeed?"
And Tony fucking hated that tone in Jarvis's voice because he knew what it meant. "He doesn’t deserve Steve, Jarvis! He doesn't!"
"That's not for you to decide, sir."
"No, I won't tell him! I won't!" Tony clenched his hands into fists and shook his head.
"You would leave your best friend in pain just to spite your father?" Jarvis gave him a disappointed look.
Tony cursed because dammit, Jarvis was right. Jarvis was always right; he couldn't do that to Steve. Fuck, he couldn't do that to Howard either. "This is a train wreck waiting to happen. Another train wreck. A *bigger* train wreck."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Stranger things have happened."
Tony gave him a dirty look. "You're a freaking ray of sunshine, you know that, Jarvis?"
"So I've been told."
*****
Tony stretched out on his bed and tried to quiet his mind long enough for a nap. A micro-nap. A few minutes of relaxation. But his mind kept returning to Howard. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! He ran his fingers through his hair, sat up, and grabbed his laptop.
Maybe if he worked on a few projects that would help.
His mind flitted from project to project to project, until, you know what, to hell with it. He hacked into SHIELD's computer—easier now that he put in a backdoor, and seriously, SHIELD needed to hire a better class of IT staff—and pulled up the security footage from the night Steve was brought in. He fast-forwarded through most of it, until he got to the part where Sarah decked Howard. He watched that in slow motion, then at regular speed.
And immediately wished he hadn't because… because…
He listened to it several times, his eyes closed so that he could concentrate on the tones of their voices. He swallowed hard against the sick feeling crawling up his throat as Howard… Howard didn’t deny it. Didn’t deny anything. Tony opened his eyes and rubbed away the wetness.
He snapped shut his laptop and fought the sudden urge to storm into Howard's room and kill him. No, no, Steve didn't need that. Tony took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Tony'd let the bastard drink himself to death. He was halfway there anyway.