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With Safety

WARNING: This story contains mature content, such as sex and violence. And, it's in English, so yeah. 

My character: Anthony Edward 'Tony' Stark

Your character: Steve Rogers

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And I'm beginning, even though I suck at beginnings, so here is my part of this story c:
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‘Jarvis!’ I called out, walking towards the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. ‘Yes, Mister Stark, what can I help you with?’ ‘Where’s Steve?’ I asked the computer. ‘He went to get some groceries, sir. He left a note for you on the kitchen table.’ ‘Thanks,’ I muttered and I walked a tad faster. When I arrived at the kitchen I shot a look outside and the sun lightened up most building, just like it seemed to do every day. It was around eleven o’clock, so it wasn’t much of a surprise Steve had already left. I snatched the note from the large kitchen table, but before I read it I walked to the bar. I was going to pour myself some scotch, before I remembered what Steve always told me about how terrible my lifestyle was and I put the bottle down. I hated Steve’s speeches; they were annoying and just a waste of my time. Something inside of me knew he was right, though. Keeping that in mind I turned around to the sink and I poured myself some water. I sighed when I had taken a first sip. Scotch was so much better. So, so much better. I then took a look at the note.

Good morning, Tony (:
I’m out for shopping, call me if you need anything (;
I’ll be back ‘round one or so, see ya then (;

Steve

Not a lot of relevant information, except for the time of Steve’s return. One o’clock... Would he notice if I’d drink something? He probably would, but who cared? He’s not my mother, anyway. 

When I finished the first cup of scotch, I was still in the kitchen. When I’d poured the second cup, I went downstairs to the workshop. I loved being down there, it was nice and quiet when I wanted it to be, but if I wanted music, I’d just snap my fingers and it was there. Everything I needed was within reach, except for the scotch. At some days scotch would be the only reason I got into the elevator and went upstairs. Today was one of those days. Around twelve o’clock, when I had finished the first of probably many bottles, I went upstairs to get a second bottle. I was already wavering, but it only made me giggle uncontrollably. After a while I had finished the first cup of the second bottle. I didn’t bother going downstairs anymore, so I sat down on the couch in the living room. I couldn’t help but look around in the huge tower. I’d seen it a million times, but now it was different. I noticed something; I was alone. The depressing thought suddenly popped up in my drunken head and settled immediately. Soon after that more thoughts followed, mostly questions. Since when am I alone? Why didn’t I notice before? Why am I alone? Doesn’t anyone care about me? Doesn’t anyone love me? I stared in the distance, while more and more of these thoughts knocked my narcissistic, egocentric and conceited wall down, a tear silently ran down my cheek. How did I ever end up like this? I used to be loved, adored even. But now, I was a lonely, old, pathetic ass, crawled up in some sort of hideout, only to be slowly and painfully forgotten by the world. Who would care if I wasn’t here anymore, who would look for me, mourn over me? Why wouldn’t I just end this miserable life? Without really thinking about it, I got up and walked towards one of the cupboards. I bent over, slowly opening the bottom drawer. With a couple of tears still running down my cheeks, I took a look at the contents of the drawer. My hand moved to the only gun in the Stark Tower since I became Iron Man. I took it and let my fingers examine it. This would do the trick, wouldn’t it?

Somewhere behind me I heard some screaming, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything at all. This would be the end anyways, why would I care? After taking a last look at the gun and crying the last few tears, I tilted the gun towards my head. I would be the fastest way. Even though I was drunk, I felt like everything I did was completely clear. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, after which I felt the cold metal of the gun pressing to my temple. The screaming then got louder and everything that happened after that seemed to be accelerated, like someone hates a part of the movie and just wants to get this over with. The first moment I sat there, ready to end all of this misery, and the second one Steve was here, holding me. The tears that had just stopped streaming, started again. I can’t even describe what was going through me at that very moment. Confusion, hurt, pain, angst, sadness, even slight anger. Why did he stop me? I was so damn close! ‘Stop it,’ I whispered, but then screamed. ‘Stop it! You’re lying! I’m not worth this, I’m not worth anything! Everyone’s better off if I’m not here, I’m a monster, for crying out loud!’ And I did. I cried my eyes, punching at Steve’s chest, though he didn’t move, not a single bit.

I violently shook my head and tried to escape from Steve’s grip. ‘Stop it!’ I whispered. ‘Please, stop!’ I squeezed my eyes shut to avoid his look. With my eyes still closed, I didn’t stop fighting against his grip. It wasn’t too late, after all, I could still end this... this Hell on earth. Keeping this in mind, I tried everything to free myself. ‘Let go of me!’ I yelled. ‘Please, Steve, let me go! Let me...’ I lowered my voice. ‘Let me...’ I couldn’t finish my sentence. Alcohol and tears blurred my mind, poisoned my thoughts. And one in particular. One sick, twisted and downright horrible thought. Something I’d always regret and never forgive myself. I finally stopped struggling, I opened my eyes and the tears decreased. I took a moment to calm myself down a little bit more, before the most horrifying words I would ever say out loud left my mouth. ‘Steve?’ I said, staring into his blue eyes. ‘Steve, listen to me! We can work this out. We can, I promise! You... can kill me.’

My eyes widened in shock and I froze immediately. Never had I seen Steve this angry; yelling, face all red, veins in his neck appearing. When he had finished his tirade, he turned around and started walking towards the elevator.  He wouldn’t seriously leave me here, would he? I had fallen to my knees when Steve had shoved me away from the calming warmth of his chest and it seemed impossible to get up; I just couldn’t find the strength. I felt hopelessly confused, alone and forgotten. I didn’t want Steve to leave, but I also didn’t want to continue living this horrible life. How badly I wanted to end... this, seemed to fade away slowly, though. Little by little my mind gave in to my desperate need for the only person that seemed to love me. I shouldn’t let him go. Not now, nor ever. I looked up at him, but because he was turned away from me, I couldn’t look at him straight is his eyes. ‘Steve?’ I whispered close to inaudible. ‘Please, stay?’ I spoke a little louder this time, though I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t hear me or just chose to ignore me. Especially the latter wouldn’t exactly shock me. Why would he help me, anyways?

When I woke up, it wasn’t as dramatic as I expected. I wasn’t laying on the cold, hard floor with a broken glass scattered on the floor next to me, together with a little leftover scotch. There weren’t any nurses crowding around me, hoping to stop the constant stream of blood coming from my head and trying to get my heart to beat again. None of the Avengers were there, crying over their loss. There was just me, laying on the soft mattress, under a couple of even softer blankets, next to Steve. It actually took me quite some time before I realised he was there, but when I did, I couldn’t help but enjoy his warm body pressed against mine and his strong arm pulling me even closer to him. Maybe... maybe he wasn’t lying, yesterday. But how couldn’t he have been? He got mad at me himself, he knows what a horrible person I am! Even though it was peaceful, next to Steve, a giant hangover started kicking in and it made me start questioning my actions last night. It made me question the accuracy of my memories as well. A big part of it was one gigantic blur, but I could swear on my life he had said some... things. Some things I hadn’t said out loud in years and wasn’t exactly planning on saying in the near future. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it... how could he love me? Just how? Why? It felt so damn impossible and I felt so damn lost. How could I solve this equation, without all the variables? 

Even though every single part of me screamed to answer Steve, to let him know how miserable I felt about yesterday, to just stare in his gorgeous eyes for a moment, I didn’t. I couldn’t. The shame caused by my very own actions crushed my desire to do all said things immediately. I tensed when Steve’s warm breath hit my forehead and I clenched my fist, digging my nails in the palm of my hand. My breath left my mouth shakily. A headache started pushing all other thoughts away, making me focus only on the pain and so did my stomach-ache. I suddenly noticed how my body was trembling, though I didn’t feel any cold at all. Without thinking really hard about it, I snuggled even closer to Steve. I wanted him to comfort me, but I didn’t exactly realise it, yet.

I once again avoided Steve’s look, I still could not bear to look at him. I didn’t want to talk to him, nor anybody. Because, well, it wasn’t his, nor anybody’s business; it’s my life, my faults, my problems and eventually it’d be my solutions as well. Second, I’d burst into tears if I opened my mouth and I didn’t need any more shame to dawn upon me. I felt him looking at me and couldn’t deny that it made me feel a tad uncomfortable. Somewhere, I wanted to be alone. Just to enjoy the silence, the peace, to get rid of the damn hangover, to think clear. With Steve silent, however, I managed to get a couple of things straight. First, I wanted to not do anything under pressure for the coming days. SHIELD could treat me like Bruce for a while, whether they’d like it or not. Second, I wasn’t going to a shrink, never. I had my reasons, but I wasn’t sure if Steve’d understand them and I really didn’t feel like telling him at all. Third, I wanted to feel loved again. Sincerely and genuinely loved. I wanted to feel like there actually was a reason to live – something that didn’t immediately occur to me at the moment. The first thing wouldn’t be that hard, I mean, I’m Tony Stark, Iron Man, people will treat me any way I want them to. The second shouldn’t be that hard, either, though annoying, “caring” people could cause some problems. Then there was the third. I didn’t have a clue on how to accomplish that – which made me feel utterly miserable again. Even though Steve’s voice had been small, I had heard it and even though I hadn’t looked up to him, I did know how his face must have looked like. I suddenly felt a little guilty for not answering him, but I just didn’t know what to tell the blonde. What if I’d say something wrong, would he get angry? Would he just ignore me? Would he... would he hurt me? Those thoughts caused me to panic a bit, I mean, he was one of the most powerful men in the world, he could easily beat the crap out of me! I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came. I then did realise I wanted him to stay there, to be with me. It was like a switch, being carefully flipped. ‘Just...’ I started, ‘Just hold me, please.’