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“I didn’t know he would come back.”
Tony sighs deeply, and turns back toward the doorway. It is 3 am, and the tower is silent with the exception of the running heat, and the electronic hum of equipment. He stands from the stool he is seated on and grabs the already open bottle of scotch, and pours himself a more than generous helping.
“I didn’t know,” Steve says, again, his arms crossed almost defiantly across his chest. He seems to wilt slightly under Tony’s eyes, but shakes it off and toughens his stance.
Tony leans back against the bar, and closes his eyes, pressing the glass lightly against his forehead. There is a headache blooming there, almost perfect in its intensity.
“I know that,” Tony says. “’I know.”
It has been a year. A year of lawyers, phone calls, congressional meetings and fights. Fights amongst former friends and attempts to rebuild bridges that had been burned beyond repair. Or at least it feels that way on days like today. The team has been living back in Stark Tower for a little over 2 months, and he has done his damndest to avoid this very conversation. Hiding in the lab, showing up for meetings instead of skipping like usual, and even agreeing to a few speaking engagements. Pepper, well aware that he is avoiding, has taken full advantage.
He hears Steve move slowly forward, and drop into the chair beside him. Tony opens his eyes to find Steve watching him. Curiously. As if waiting for something. The electronic hum seems to have dulled into the background, and Tony turns toward the window, and takes another gulp of scotch. It burns his throat, but that is nothing new.
“I never wanted to…hurt you, Tony.”
Tony can’t help the almost hysterical bubble of laughter that escapes his throat. His chest suddenly feels tight, his focus and clarity slipping away. God bless alcohol.
“Is this funny to you, Stark?” Steve asks, rising abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor. He steps back, arms refolding crisply across his chest. Tony doesn’t miss the use of his last name. The change in address.
Tony shrugs and moves towards the window, keeping Steve in his peripheral vision. “She was my mother. I find very little humor in her death, Cap.”
Steve deflates almost instantly, and rights the chair he knocked over. “And the laughter?”
Tony shrugs. It is too hard to explain.“She was the only person that honestly ever loved me. Besides...Pepper.” He scrunches his nose at the painful thought. This is not helping his headache.
Steve shifts and moves toward him. He places a hand on his shoulder. “She was your mother. Of course she loved you.”
“Not true, Stevie. There is no biological edict that makes every mother love her child. None at all.” Tony sighes again, and finally locks eyes with Steve. “I was, well, am a spoiled princess. She was my first friend. And only ally at times.” His stomach turns at the thought of Howard. He pushes the thought back.
“Tony…” They are back to first names. He smirks.
Tony waves him off and takes a deep breath. “You should have told me, but you didn’t. The Winter Soldier….”
“Bucky,” Steve corrects, and jams his hands deep into his pockets.
“Bucky, then,” he says with a hiss through his teeth. He stamps his foot and takes a long slow drink. “Killed her. I can’t let that one go, Steve-o.”
“I wouldn't expect you to,” Steve says quietly.
“Then why are we doing this,” Tony asks, gesturing between the two of them. He turns and heads back for the bar, but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He tenses, but turns back. Steve quietly removes the glass from his hand. He takes a drink, and licks his lips. His eyes meet Tony's without pause.
“Tell me about her,” Steve says, and walks back to the chair. He sits down and takes another sip of scotch.
“My mother,” Tony says, and shifts forward to the bar to get down another glass. He pours another drink and sits down quietly beside Steve. The hum of the heat picks up and Tony looks out to see snow falling. It suits his mood.
Steve snatches the bottle of scotch, and serves himself another glass. He looks expectantly back at him, and Tony feels the headache start to subside slightly.
He laughs. “She was unique.”
Steve arches an eyebrow. “Hard to believe.”
Tony reaches across the bar and plops two ice cubes in their drinks, respectfully. He holds up his glass and Steve clinks them together. He stops before he drinks and squints at Cap, watching him. Steve says nothing, but never breaks his gaze.
"To be clear..I still want to punch you in your fucking perfect teeth,” Tony says bluntly.
Steve blinks. "And you still need to watch your language, Stark."
He was more comfortable with the surname for now. Fucking perfect teeth.