Steve And Tony Make Up (A Stony Love Story)

Step Four

Steve idly twirled a pencil pondering life. Again. It seemed all he done the past five days.

Why the past five days? That was how long Steve had gone without human contact, including from Natasha and Tony, for reasons unknown to him.

Before the reign of isolation had began, Natasha had dropped off a bundle of books, a sketchbook, and art pencils. That's the last time he had seen someone and he was starting to suspect that Natasha and Tony had disappeared off the face of the Earth (he couldn't picture Natasha being killed, and didn't want to think about Tony), or had finally reached the logical conclusion he had reached- and tried to implement- to cut ties.

Steve did continue receiving food by bot, so he had to assume they were still kicking and just ignoring him. Steve glanced out the window and the almost bird's eye view of the city reminded him of when he had to rescue Bucky.

Steve wasn't the type to reflect on the past. He learned and built on it, but tried not to dwell, which was ironic considering he was the man out of time.

Steve was beginning to realize, or, at least, the realization was surfacing into his aware mind that this was defiantly not a good coping mechanism. What else was he supposed to do, however? It was not as if jail/house arrest was exactly ideal for putting one's self back together.

Steve sat down on his bed, slumping.

Patience, remember?

As Steve slowly drifted off he wondered how Bucky and his group was.

*******************

This is how I die.

Seven days. Seven days Steve had wasted away.

He was limp on the bed, sketchbook still open to his amazingly well rendered image of a caged dove, olive branch still clutched firmly in its beak. It rested on his bare stomach- the provided black tee riding up to expose his abs. Steve's gray sweats only added to the image. It was a full drama queen pose, to be frank.

I miss Tony.

The thought was unwanted, and sudden- but still true. After having pie with Natasha and Tony he was thrown back into the comrade he had there, and now every fiber of his being was longing to have that back.

I wish I could just go back to being his friend.

Tears leaked out the corner of his eye as he stared at the ceiling.

Why am I crying? I don't even feel sad.

The tears weren't stopping. They came faster and hiccuping, random sobs escaped.

Stop. Stop. I am fine. I have seen and survived worse I AM FINE. STOP.

They didn't. If anything, they raced faster.

Steve curled up on his side, unable to make sense of his world. The sketchbook fell on the floor.

Steve was thrown back into the sensation of emerging from the ice, lost and confused, and different but the same and- and- and-

Steve grabbed at his head, fingers tangling in his hair. For the first time in heaven only knew how long he just sobbed like he had wanted to. Even when Peggy, someone he loved deeply, had died, he hadn't let himself mourn.