Knowing is Half the Battle || Tony and Steve
Tony frowned at the offending object that had been at the forefront of his mind for months- the same object that now sat otherwise unassumingly at the top of his office desk. Taking another long drink from his glass, the billionaire was momentarily grounded by the burn of whiskey that crept down his throat. For a moment the man was worried by the fact he no longer winced at the taste. The cellphone stared back at him, taunting him with the conclusion he had come to.
 Find Rogers before Ross does, and you could do something right⊠for once.
 Tony swished the liquid dregs that still coloured the bottom of his glass as he wondered when he had stopped mixing his hard liquor. Gone were the days and nights of multi-coloured, sweet beverages that burned their way up his throat in the form of the next morningâs rainbow-hued vomit. Here were the days of one-toned, diluted stomach acid.
 You could have saved us. Why didnât you do more?
 The implanted memory of Steveâs dying words rang out from the back of Tonyâs inebriated thoughts, encouraging the wince that the whiskey had failed to inspire. Tony blinked dumbly at the phone in front of him as his stomach began to churn. He rolled his chair away from the desk as his free hand moved up to push through his hair. Luckily, the product from that morning provided some resistance to the action, and helpfully pulled Tonyâs mind away from the oncoming panic attack as his hair was tugged.
 âSir, your vital signs indicate-â
 âNot now, Friday.â
 The AI fell silent; Tony was well aware of his change in demeanour. Still, the billionaire was glad he hadnât muted her when he had started drinking. Lately, it seemed that it was only Fridayâs voice that broke the silent expanse of Tonyâs day-to-day. Phone calls, press conferences, and impromptu interviews were short lived alongside this eerie quietness. Rhodeyâs therapy sessions had taken him away from the manor, Vision seemed a ghost these days, and Pete might as well have been-
 You could have saved us. Why didnât you do more?
 Tony rolled his chair back towards his desk as his arm reached forward for the almost empty bottle. He wished the Expo had commenced before Ross had decided to inspire a fleet of Boba-Fetts to hunt down and kill everyone he cared about- loved? Cared about.
 Tonyâs hand brought the bottle to his lips instead of his glass; the alcohol-induced dulling of his mind seemed to dampen his desire for cups. Tony shrugged to himself, allowing for the change as he attempted to place the empty cup on his desk. At the last moment, his hand weaved and, instead, released the crystal onto the floor, causing it to shatter. Tony groaned, realizing he was drunker than heâd thought.
 âShall I alert the custodial staff, or would you prefer to ignore that too?â
 âDonât sass me, Friday.â
 Tony pitched forwards slightly as he reached into his pants pocket for his own cellphone. Bruce had not answered any of his calls. The phone was gone, or Bruce was dead. If alive (which the lack of a kill confirmation in Rossâ database suggested) then Bruce would more than likely be in contact with Steve- birds of a feather, and what not. If that were the case, then the phone on his desk was his last tieâŠ
Tony wondered if he was drunk enough to do something stupid.
 âFridayâŠâ
 There was a short pause.
 âSir?â
 âCan⊠pull up theâŠâ
 Tonyâs hand was on the disposable phone as he tried to figure out his orders. Tony had tried to use the phone once before, but-⊠but he couldnât. Steve more than likely had decided against keeping in contact with him and had destroyed his phone by now; if not before the press conference, then certainly after it. Hell, he couldnât blame him- Pete had been driven away by his personality, and heâd known Tony for less than a year.
 Steve Rogers, Tony. Make sure you remember him- remember that name- your school will probably ask you about Captain America; I knew him. Tony, if youâre good- and I mean actually behaving properly during the Expo, Iâll show you the prototype for his shield again- no, you canât touch it- itâs important.
 Tony pushed the stray, piercing memory away. Now was not the time for thinking.
 âSir?â
 âActivate all of our available camera tech. Keep Ross in the dark. Use our uhâŠâ
 âSystem?â
 âYeah- use that and- and track the call that⊠track this phoneâs outgoing call. I donât want this conversation or any pinned location to escape this room- do not alert Ross. I wouldnât last long in prison.â
 Tony felt his gut tighten as he clicked onto the only number entered into the contact list. Tonyâs heart hammered in his chest as his thumb hesitated on the touch-pad.
 You could have saved us. Why didnât you do more? Tony hit âcallâ.
Desperation.Â
Steve had known the feeling before, felt it when his mother passed and he felt so alone in the universe. The days he could barely scrounge up enough change for groceries, living day to day in the midst of the depression, were the most taxing. His body would rebel in the winter months, and his lungs would fill up, leaving him to a slow torturous life, wondering what moment was going to be his last.Â
Heâd seen soldiers and civilians alike be maimed or killed - Hell, the Captain had killed people in the crossfire, it was part of being in the army. Steve Rogers watched his best friend fall to his death, and if that wasnât enough, he had to watch the same man be pulled apart and recreated into a weapon.Â
All of the desperate times in Steveâs life had a common denominator though - Bucky. He was there through the tragedy, the sickness, the war and casualties - and then he became one.Â
Those facts alone were the only ones keeping Steve from calling Tony.Â
Even thinking back, he wouldnât change his actions, not if it meant putting Buckyâs life in danger again. The outcome wasnât favorable, but if being back in Tonyâs good graces meant denouncing Bucky as an ally or complying with the governmentâs plan to control them, then he wanted to no part of it. Now really, that part was all speculation. There was no telling what would earn Tonyâs friendship back - though there was only the beginning of one anyway. But this war was getting much more complicated than that.Â
He couldnât take the chance of Tony outing his location, because with the intel Steve had one where others might be, he could be putting everyone else in danger who had already put their asses on the line for this cause. So he left the line open, put the ball in Tonyâs court. If Tony was half as stubborn as his father - and Steve could almost confirm that fact if they ever got around to talking about Howard - it would take another alien invasion for him to call.Â
So contacting him was the last thing on Steveâs mind, especially given that he had a few people to find. There was no telling what kind of progress the government had made in finding out where people were. As a strategist, Steveâs first thought was that they had to at least have an idea of where they were in order to make a threat like that so public. Though a small part of him sensed fear - insighting panic among the people would make the good guys feel like bad guys, and isolating them with the fear of being shot on sight.Â
It was in a safe house in Missouri that Steve stopped in his tracks, setting aside the research he had in favor of digging through his bag for his phone. For a moment, he hoped it was Sam was maybe some good news, some sort of breakthrough that could make all this running around a little less fruitless.Â
Tony calling...
This wasnât happening.Â
He blinked a few times, and when he still saw that name flashing on the screen of the cell phone, his stomach dropped, guilt welling up at the thought of having to hear his voice. Would he be able to keep a lid on his own resentment? Would he be apologetic?Â
Would there be a heavy silence because they arenât friends anymore?
They never were
But there had to be a reason for the call, and if it wasnât a trick, which he assumed it wasnât - even Tony wouldnât stoop that low, he knew that. With one click, he answered, not able to wait for even a momentâs pause.Â
âTonyâ he was practically breathless, and in that one word - in just the otherâs name - Steve poured out much more relief than he meant to. There was still anger, and they would likely still disagree, but for the first time in months, Steve felt grounded.Â









