And then we were two (Tony stark's daughter fic)

This is the trail that wouldn't end

Addy sat in her pajamas, knees drawn to her chest, lips pursed in an angry pout, and glared. "No!"

Bruce sighed and shared an uncertain glance with Thor.

"Lady Addy..." Thor began carefully, "you must eat..."

"And You must find my daddy!" She huffed. "You guys are supposed to be his friends! You left him out there!"

"We did not-" Clint cut off as Natasha walked in and raised a brow at him.

"Stop arguing with Addy," she sighed. "We're still looking, дорогой. We will find him..."

"You guys don't rescue my daddy," she scowled. "Daddy's the one that thinks about all of you. Daddy's the one that tries to take care of all of you. None of you care about him! You guys suck! I want my daddy!"

Natasha sighed and settled beside her. "I think you're right, дорогой. I don't think we always notice..." she agreed. "I promise you, alright? I promise we're looking. Your daddy wanted to save a little girl, a little bigger than you...and he did. Right now that's what we know for sure, okay?"

That wasn't strictly true. After picking up Shiloh the night before she'd learned plenty. None of it was good, none of it would lead to Tony and Steve, and so none of it was necessary to tell the little girl staring up at her. She sighed and wrapped an arm around Maddy, running her fingers through her hair. "We both know, if there's one thing your daddy's doing, it's trying to get back to you..."

Maddy's lower lip trembled, great crystalline tears blurring her eyes. "I'm tired of losin him..."

"I know," she sighed. "I know, дорогой."

_______

"Cold," Tony muttered, scowling toward the window as the storm raged around them. He'd been muttering single words off and on since the moment he'd tried to repeat alright earlier in the day. So far they were mostly how he felt about things.

Steve nodded and pulled him a little closer, doing everything he could to keep him warm.

Those whiskey brown eyes studied him thoughtfully, one callused palm running over his arm. "Alright?"

Steve smiled and gave him a little more of the blanket. "Fine, Tony. It's alright."

Tony shook his head, frustration filling his eyes.

Steve chuckled fondly. "When you make that face you look like-"

"No!" Tony cut over him like a toddler. He scowled up at Steve, all those heavy emotions clear in his eyes. He was terrified. Terrified and angry.

"We're going to get out of here," he promised softly. "I'm going to get you out of this."

Tony's frown deepened. His brain was still fuzzy, more emotions than thoughts, and he didn't want anyone seeing him that way. Of course, he didn't have words for all that so he only whined in frustration as he stared up at Steve, wondering if he'd understand.

Sadly, he did not. Steve frowned back at him, fingers fiddling absently with the curls at the top of Tony's dark head. He hadn't realized Tony had curls until this trip and he wanted nothing more than to play with them indefinitely. "If you were smirking at me I think I'd know exactly what you were thinking..." he murmured. "But, this...I'm not used to you looking like this..."

Tony groaned. That was sort of the point, wasn't it? He couldn't protect himself like this! He couldn't even defend himself like this! He groaned and dropped his head to Steve's chest miserably. "Wrong," he mumbled.

"What's wrong?" Steve frowned cluelessly. He almost missed the silence. At least then he didn't feel so stupid, like he was failing the man currently laying against his chest.

Tony could only shake his head helplessly. "Sleep," he ordered.

Another night came to mind, Tony shifting beside him until he wanted to pin him down. This was easier, more comfortable, it just...wasn't noisy enough. Steve snorted at the realization. "You're infuriating, do you know that?" He huffed. "Actually managed to make me miss your incessant yammerin."

Tony's head lifted, forcing his chest and arms more firmly against Steve and he began laughing deeply. "Sleep," he repeated after a moment, settling down again.

Steve was up with the dawn, staring out over the seemingly endless expanse of grassland and forest. It'd been days, surely the team was looking for them?

Tony sat up and made a sound to get Steve's attention.

He was perched cross legged on the cot, the blanket wrapped loosely around him, and Steve frowned, wondering if he'd always been lithe and wiry...skinny, or if Steve wasn't managing to feed him enough.

Tony huffed at him, as if he could read his mind, and motioned. "Goin?" He demanded, pointing toward the door.

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Cant stay here. No supplies, it's clearly abandoned so no one's coming here...we go back to the river."

Tony sighed and began patting their clothes. They were still damp and he scowled in distaste, immediately moving back to the cot in silent protest.

Steve laughed fondly and dragged a hand through his hair. "Alright. We'll wait a bit. But only a bit, we gotta get home..."

"Mad," he nodded.

Once more Steve felt he was missing something but he let it go, glancing outside. "We're going to need breakfast..." he sighed. "Any chance you'll come with me even with the clothes damp?"

Tony scowled, his dark eyes flitting hatefully toward the half dried clothes, and stood with a huff, letting the blanket slip off of him.

Steve tracked the movement, his eyes moving over the lines and edges of Tony's slim body. There were bruises there, dark nasty things, still healing from their rough landing, but beyond that were scars. He frowned, eyes cataloguing each one. Some of them he identified as burns, assumed he'd earned them working in his workshop, but others...some of them didn't make sense? What could Tony have done that would leave old, spider fine, scars at horizontal angles across his back? Some of them ended at a point. On occasion that point had matching corner points at the right and left. He frowned, something like dread settling in his belly as his mind struggled between answering the question, Where did those come from? What caused them? And avoiding the question entirely. Then the tshirt and soft pants Tony had been wearing beneath his armor slipped into view, covering visible scars, and he turned.

Steve expected that smile, the one that played the part of shield for Tony's heart and emotions, to follow suit, slip into place as easily as the soft clothing had, but his gaze was still painfully raw and open, something like shame there in the flit of an uncertain gaze and tense muscles. Steve frowned and draped the blanket around Tony's shoulders. "Let's go, Stark." He mumbled.

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Goodness this is finally getting fun again! I do wish I'd done a couple things differently here but I'm not going back to change the whole story so we're just gonna follow the muses where they take us lol anywhoo hi 🙋🏽‍♀️ hope you enjoy, hope it's going well, I like chatter so say hey and what not. Later friends

Oh ps дорогой means sweetheart. So says Google anyway. If you know Russian and I got that wrong by all means tell me lol. I don't even have a clue how to read that Ngl 😂 also if you do know Russian hit me with your favorite terms of endearment because I am a total sucker for that