Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

December 16, 1991 (Stark x reader)

Angst

"Sergeant Barnes?"

Tony closed his eyes and grimaced, knowing exactly what was happening on the screen in front of him, having had seen this scene replayed at least a hundred times now. He wasn't sure why he had made sure to take it from the base in Siberia, and really wasn't sure why it had become a part of his daily life to watch it at any given point in his day, but he only knew that he couldn't stop. It was like some masochistic addiction that his mind wouldn't allow him reprieve from, filling a need within himself that could never be satiated.

"Howard!"

His eyes opened again at the same moment they always did, just as Bucky's human hand wrapped around his mother's throat, the quiet gasp and choke of her voice being extinguished beneath his hold.

"Why do I keep doing this to myself?" he whispered, tossing the tablet onto his bedside table. "I watch it over and over like there's something that I'm missing, but I know every frame in even the smallest detail. I can hear their voices in my head like I'm right there, but I keep putting myself through it like there's something I could do to change the outcome."

He leaned over and reached out to turn the small lamp off, taking a long sigh when darkness filled the room and he tried to prepare himself for sleep. Nightmares came to him nearly every night now, and he knew that watching the death of his parents everyday wasn't helping the situation at all. But that's the thing about addictions; they make sure that their needs are fulfilled with no regards to your own.

"I don't know, (Y/N), I'm starting to think I might be losing it," he continued, rolling towards your side of the bed, "well, some would say that I lost it years ago. But this time, I think I'm starting to believe it."

~~~

The next morning, after a listless sleep filled with dreams that played on repeat and burned their images into his memory, Tony stumbled wearily into the kitchen at the Avengers compound with his pajama pants on backwards, no shirt and one sock. His hair was more chaotic than its usual styled messiness, and the dark circles under his eyes startled even himself when he saw his ghastly reflection in the stainless steel of the toaster.

"Damn, who died?" he scoffed, turning the appliance away, only to see himself again in the refrigerator door. "Oh, I guess that would be me."

"Tone, you look like hell," Rhodey answered plainly, lowering his newspaper long enough to look, "and you lost a sock."

"I did?" he mumbled, looking down at his feet with a weary shrug. "Eh, I'll find it later. This is what I get for trying to dress myself. (Y/N) wasn't here to lay out my wardrobe for me this morning."

Rhodey didn't reply, but rather watched quietly with eyes filled with concern as his friend continued to stumble around the room, pouring a sloppy cup of coffee that left the counter wet and succeeding to burn toast only to throw it away without attempting to make more. He finally settled on an apple for breakfast that he took two bites from before tossing it back into the basket.

"Really, man? You're just wasting food now, and you can't survive on coffee forever."

"Watch me."

"I have been, Tony," James argued, slamming his paper onto the table top with a loud slap, leaning back in his chair, "I've been watching you for months, wandering around this building like a shadow of Tony Stark. You didn't sleep again last night, did you?"

"Get off my back, Rhodes. I'm fine."

"Yeah, you look great," he nodded with a stone expression, "and people are starting to notice. You've been missing meetings right and left, Stark Enterprises may as well just shut down now if you're just going to keep ignoring the fact that your stocks have dropped by the thousands in the last week, and let's not get started about how things are around here-"