Avengers Imagines

Don't Look Back (Pt. 6/6)

The conspicuous phone call, to Steve, solidified Tony's guilt. How did he know what Steve had found? More importantly, why had he not attempted to exonerate himself? Against his better judgment, Steve made his way down the stairs.

The silence in the car was deadly as Tony drove it to god-knows-where. Steve compulsively stared straight ahead, afraid that the moment he turned to look at the brown-eyed man has heart ached for, he would combust. Tears clawed at his throat. “How did you find out?”

“There's a reason you, or most people, don't know about her. Years ago when I was burying all official records of (Y/N), I've been actively trying to stay on top of it since. So when your friend came sniffing around, naturally I was made aware of the fact that soon as possible.” The airy quality in Tony's voice was intrinsically hunting.

Steve realized where him and his friend had gone wrong. Bucky was not only actively searching for a person whom someone rich and powerful had relentlessly tried to erase from reality but he also went around researching a conspiracy that was too close to the truth. There were questions awaiting being pondered upon, although before that could come to pass, Steve noticed the other man was still talking.

“That night you left my building so awkwardly, you were onto me already. I know because you went to the manic woman's place right after. It was about the scratches on my arm, wasn't it? That how come I had them and you had none? I swear no other person could connect those two dots except you. And, well, there's the conversation you had with your buddy Bucky this morning.” There was a humorous undertone in Tony's voice, until he turned and saw Steve was staring at him with eyes the size of Jupiter.

Tony winced as he slid out of the car, clearly having reached his desired destination. “Oh. Almost forgot to tell you, after you left that night looking like you had discovered the cure of all ills, I tapped your phone. Is it legal? No. Do I care? Also, no.”

The effortless lack of conscience stunned Steve into numbness. So numb, he forgot to register the establishment they were at, until Tony opened the door on his side and ushered him out. In front of him stood the very café he had spent his first date with Tony in. Blush of newfound romance was swiftly drowned in images of your casket.

“You're really about to confess to murder in a room full of people?” There was more sharpness in his tone than intended, but then again, Steve had no way of knowing what level of acrimony was appropriate for the occasion. Tony chuckled as he led the way in. “Of course not. I bought the place. It's special for me, for us. I don't like seeing it invaded by strangers.”

The first half of the sentence gave hope to Steve and he hated himself for it. He hated himself for pleading to whatever higher power that existed to make it so that Tony came up with ample evidence to exonerate him of the crime he was suspected of committing. So far, he had been provided to opportunities, two at least deny the allegation, of which he had optimized neither.

“I was twelve when she was born. Halfway groomed into being the sole inheritor of my father's estate.” Tony leisurely dropped himself into a chair, as though he were merely discussing the weather on a Sunday afternoon. “Dad was always busy with work to spend time with me but at least I didn't have competition. Until her. She was smarter, better than me in nearly every way. See, I'm big enough to give the devil her due.”

“So all those times she nearly died, it was you?” Steve would wildly disagree as to who the devil was in this situation, but as of that moment, he had other concerns. Tony leaned back, his expression owning up to the act as though it were a thing of pride. “Would you believe they fired three different sets of household staff just to shift the blame from me? My parents couldn't let their only son be tried for attempted murder.”