Second Chances

Thirty-three

If Steve grumbled to himself the Gaelic obscenities he learned from his mother as a boy as he walked out of Stark Industries Tower then that was between Steve and God. Maybe he only knew four, but he wasn’t going to admit that. He was too pissed off.

Steve was never gonna fucking help a person again.

Okay, that wasn’t true. It was his job to help people, but that didn’t mean he would help Tony Stark again.

The narcissistic, petty, stubborn, vain, cocky, arrogant, gorgeous bastard. Who had been nothing but kind to Steve, only to prove himself as the arrogant sonofabitch he truly is. Steve had been so love-drunk on Tony Stark, blinded by his charisma and grandeur. He was such a good man to the public, but when you got up close you saw all the narcissistic, petty, stubborn, vain, cocky, arrogant interior. And that wasn’t even the worst of it! The moment anyone tried to help the man, they were pushed away, only putting the icing on the fucking cake that was that man’s ego! 

Tony was in danger, but noooo. He could do all of this on his own. He could handle two rich men wishing him dead behind his back because Tony Stark was just so great! Wasn’t he? 

I would like to order some textbook narcissism, with a dash of petty and a glass of arrogance. Oh, and some stubbornness too! Be generous with it! 

Was Steve repeating himself?

All Steve wanted to do was protect Tony, a person he cared about so very much. A person who Steve constantly thought about. A person whose smile captivated his mind. Whose genius delighted Steve. Whose witty humor had Steve bending over, laughing until he was in tears. Whose kind heart helped millions across the planet with jobs, and healthcare, and fought their unjust laws.

He was such a fucking asshole.

The narcissistic, petty, stubborn…

Steve shook his head, stopping before he could start that cycle all over again. He climbed onto his motorcycle and started driving back to Brooklyn.  

Steve was really the idiot here. He had been fine before all of this; before that stupid fireman dinner. 

He should’ve just gone to hang out with his friends. It would’ve been fun too. They would’ve gotten drinks, joked about crazy days at work and crazier days in their youth. The dinner would’ve been boring, but Steve could have just leaned over and whispered to Sam about how pompous all this was. Sam would have laughed too! 

When the dinner was over they all could’ve gone to the bar and got drinks. Maybe Steve would even have worked up the nerve to flirt with the bartender! But if he didn’t, that would be fine too. Steve had his shot at love, and he lost it. It was as simple as that. 

It's not over, a voice sounding suspiciously like Peggy's whispered in the back of his mind. 

“Shut up, Peggy,” Steve said out loud because he was crazy now.

Tony Stark had driven him crazy. That narcissistic, petty, stubborn─

Steve had told himself that he was sparring Tony. He told himself it would be better this way.

So why was he so angry?

You’re in love, Stevie. And why the fuck was that Bucky’s voice?

“You’re going crazy, Stevie,” Steve whispered to himself. “You’re going so crazy, that now, you’re speaking to yourself in the third person.” 

Steve quietly snickered.

He continued driving, not quite paying attention to the cars around him. He spotted the red lights of course, and the pedestrians quickly running across the road just as the light flicked green. He saw the happy expressions of kids looking up at their parents as they walked out of an ice cream parlor, and he glared his heart and soul into the Stark Industries billboard where Tony was smirking at the camera in a firm fitting suit that showed off his biceps in their crossed position. His tie was deep red, the color somehow making his brown eyes dance even though it was a photo.