Irondad and Spiderson One Shots

Aftermath

Words:1902
Warnings:, angst, sad everyone, mainly just depression x100000, don't read near ppl ull probably cry lmao

:)

(Civil war never happened)

Also this more on the avengers, not as much as irondad but that's okay

It's been three years. Three years after thanos attacked Earth. Three years after half of everyone was gone. Three years of Peter not being with Tony. Three years of Bucky not being on Steve side. Three years of Sam no longer being there to make jokes with Rhodey. Three years of Natasha hiding away from the loss of her best friend. All of these losses affected them greatly. Tony stayed in his lab. Steve never left he gym. Rhodey never smiled. Natasha was never seen. The avengers were no longer a thing. You never saw Ironman or Captain America out and about. No villains, criminals, or bad guys existed. And even if they did, they stayed in hiding.

"Tony." A voice from behind Tony Stark brought him out of his mind. It was Bruce Banner. Bruce didn't loose anyone specifically on the battlefield like the others did, but he was still affected. The Hulk was pretty much gone. He wasn't the soft nerd he was before. He lost most of his emotions and feelings. Sure, he continued his work in his lab, but not normally. He was either drunk (a habit he accidentally picked up from Tony) or just sitting there. The only thing he created in his lab was a little scrap of metal with carvings in it. The carvings created a symbol representing Valkyrie. After Thor came back to Earth from his vacation away with Rocket Raccoon in space, he had informed Bruce of her death. He couldn't find any signal of her in space. She was lost. Maybe she escaped the ship when Thanos attacked. Maybe she's alive. But, who knows.

"What?" Tony turned around slowly in his swivel chair to see Bruce standing. His eyes were bloodshot. He had heavy bags under his eyes. His hair was messy and tangled. Alcohol stained his breath. He never slept, ate, showered or talked. All he did was stay in his lab. No one knew what he did. He never allowed people in. The doors were always locked shut. The only person he allowed in was Bruce, but it's not like he had much need to be in there. After Peter died in his arms, he completely changed. There was no longer any happiness in his life. Any giggles or smiles. Everything that happened, he blamed himself. Peter dying? His fault. Peter coming along with him? His fault. Peter being unsuccessful? His fault. He was the one who made the suits. He was the one who encouraged him. He was the guilty one. He trained him. He helped him. He brought him into this life. It's almost like he was asking for Peters death. May didn't handle the death well either. She hid her emotions around anyone, but let it all out when alone. She sobbed and begged Peter to come back. All she wanted was a hug from him. To feel his soft curls. To smell that peppermint gum he's always chewing. Tony wanted to help May cope, but how could he help someone when he couldn't even help himself.

"Steve needs help. He's passed out in the gym. I need your suit to help me carry him to my lab." Bruce replied. Steve Rogers didn't handle Buckys death well either. First few days, he tried to stay strong. He was always thinking of ways to stop Thanos, or reverse the affect. After the fourth day of Bucky being gone, he lost it. He just started sobbing uncontrollably in front of everyone. No one knew how to react. Steve was the strong and heroic one. He was the one helping others when they needed it. Now, the roles are switched. Steve needed love. He needed a partner. A friend. But the problem with this was he never accepted the love an friends. If anyone tried to help him out with anything, he'd insist he was fine. In reality, he wasn't. After weeks of meltdowns, panic attacks and being alone, he finally found a solution. He went down to the gym and started punching bags. He broke nearly every single one with two punches. After all the bags were gone, he'd use other objects. The wall, dummies, metal poles. Anything to distract him. He thought it would distract him, but it did the opposite. Without his knowledge, he's whisper inside jokes or small moments he had with Bucky while punching. The memories would flood his head and he'd have to stop punching. He would let himself fall to the wood floor and not get up. He'd cry, apologize, blame himself. Anything a man could do. Sometimes, he's ignore his exhaustion and get right back up. He would fall back down, then get back up. Over and over and over. He'd do this until he was passed out. He enjoyed being out. He didn't have to remember the death of Bucky. He'd just be in a dark world. If anything did happen in that dark world, he wouldn't remember. The next thing he would remember would be waking up with lights shining in his eyes. The next day, it would continue. He did this almost everyday for three years.