Marvel 616 Fic: Undo | Chapter 8

[vail_kagami]

summary and story information this way

 

“Be honest with me,” Jim says halfway to the airport. “Did you wait until you could walk before having this conversation so you could walk right out on him?” He looks over to where Tony is sitting in the passenger seat, but Tony is only looking out of the window. It’s dark by now; in the irregular illumination of the streetlights his face looks washed out and old.

“I feel like by getting back my memories, I killed the guy Steve fell in love with,” Tony says to the window.

“Wow, you’re a barrel of laughs.” Jim can already tell that the way back to Seattle is going to be very long.

His job had been to sit in the car outside the mansion and wait for Tony, so he knew Tony wanted to leave, and quickly, but hearing why still came as a surprise. He doesn’t disapprove, though. Well, of the reasons, perhaps, but not of the act.

Tony doesn’t say anything else all the way to their destination. Jim pulls into a free parking spot and Tony still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t make a move to get out.

Jim waits patiently, just checking if his friend has fallen asleep. To be honest, he’s a little worried. Tony shouldn’t be up and about yet. He can hardly walk. And he’s heartbroken, even if he made the decision himself. He’s not good at taking care of himself in times like this.

But he also really needs to get away, and Jim can support him in that, if nothing else.

“Having second thoughts?” he finally asks, dreading the answer, when Tony hasn’t moved for almost ten minutes.

Tony turns to look at him, his movements slow, as if in a trance. “Can you take me to Penn Station?” he asks, his voice oddly small. “I’d like to go by train.”

Well, that’s unexpected. But whatever. Tony is the boss, and it’s not like they already had the flight booked. “Whatever you want.” Jim starts the car and programs their new destination into the GPS. It’s not a place he's had to go often, at least not by car.

Looks like the journey to Seattle will be even longer than he thought it would be.

 

-

 

Jim gets them two tickets to Seattle and Tony picks the longest route with the most layovers he can find. Apparently, the idea is to make it last as long as possible before he gets anywhere and may have to do things again. Like face life. It’s better than crawling into a bottle, though, and honestly, Jim gets it. He’s had thoughts about just getting up and getting away more than once in his life, mostly during college. Although usually, those daydreams didn’t involve trains.

Tony seems honestly surprised that Jim is determined to come with him, but Jim doesn’t think he could tie his own shoelaces at the moment, and Tony doesn’t protest. He just looks at him every so often, as if he can’t figure Jim out.

That’s fine by Jim. He likes being the mysterious one for once.

Meanwhile, Tony settles into being the quiet one. He doesn’t do much but stare out of the window whenever he’s not looking at Jim. He doesn’t read. He doesn’t doodle on the sketchbook Jim knows is in his bag. Maybe he’s designing things in his head, but Jim doubts it. He knows how Tony looks when he does that. This isn’t it. This is what Tony looks like when he’s trying not to cry.

Their train has WiFi, but Tony never once gets out of his laptop or his phone. He doesn’t even check his e-mails, apparently either convinced that now he’s not running any companies and is off the Avengers’ rooster due to his injuries, no one could possibly want anything from him. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. Jim knows his phone is turned on, but he’s blocking everything but emergency calls.

Better that way. Jim doesn’t even say anything about it. He does get on the internet with his own phone, though, while Tony watches the world go by and the sun come up. Pepper sent two e-mails to him; one to ask if everything is alright and one to complain that Tony is ignoring her. Jim sends a short reply, tells her they are on the train and about to arrive. In Pittsburgh. Seattle is going to take them a few days, but then, there is nothing in particular waiting from them there, either.

He knows Pepper will understand. She’s known Tony long enough to have seen him get like this more than once.

The ride to Pittsburgh takes over nine hours. The only time Tony interacts with Jim at all is when Jim goes to get himself a snack and Tony shakes his head to the question if he wants something to eat. Jim dozes for an hour or so. For all he knows, Tony doesn’t.

His friend looks like death warmed over when they finally climb out of the train at their first stop, with hollow cheeks and dark rings under his eyes. He doesn’t look at all like Tony Stark, not the way the media knows him (his friends do; they know him like this and they know what he looks like when he’s falling to pieces) and that is, for once, perfectly fine with Jim. He’s moderately certain that Tony doesn’t even know about all the media outrage about him and Rogers, and he certainly doesn’t want him to find out because someone recognizes him and asks about his relationship with Captain America. (Jim wonders if Tony would have acted differently if he had known.)

Tony gives him a strange look when Jim takes a hat out of his bag and puts it on his head, but doesn’t say anything. He probably gets it. They are lucky no one has recognized Tony yet, but then, people simply do not expect Tony Stark to show up on public transport.

The next best train to get them closer to their destination is leaving around noon, and it's going to be another ten hours to yet another layover. Jim isn’t looking forward to it, though he’s traveled worse ways.

He also isn’t particularly surprised when Tony just wanders away from the station, stops a taxi, and asks the driver to take them to the nearest motel.

“Really?” Jim asks once they checked in under a fake name and he dropped their two pathetic bags that are entirely inadequate for a several days journey to the floor. “A motel, Tony? Are we running out of money this quickly?”

“I’m not as rich as I used to be. And I’ve stayed in motels before,” Tony points out, his voice a little raspy, and Jim thinks, Yeah, you did. When you were trying to kill yourself with booze.

“I could have paid for a hotel room,” he says, just in case that really is the problem here.

“I felt like this.”

“I wonder why,” Jim remarks drily. He actually does have a pretty good idea. It goes along well with Tony’s hat.

The room isn’t too bad. It’s clean, there is a queen size bed that should fit them both, and nothing is living in the bathroom. Jim even saw a fast food place around the corner when the taxi dropped them off, and that’s foremost on his mind right now. “I’m running over to grab some food,” he tells his friend. “What do you want?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“No? You’d better work up some appetite anyway, or else it’s not gonna be fun when I cram a burger down your throat.”

Tony glares at him but doesn’t say anything more as Jim leaves, so he thinks there might be a chance Tony will eat—or at least that the door won’t be bolted when he comes back.

Fortunately, there isn’t much going on at the fast food place. Jim, ravenous as he is, picks a big combo made of fries and two burgers and a giant coke, and he gets a salad and a spring roll for Tony, knowing anything else would be pushing it. Considering until two days ago Tony was taking all his food in liquid form, the salad might be pushing it already, but Jim has to try, at least.

He gets Tony something Jim likes to eat as well, because he’s pretty sure he’s going to be eating leftovers.

When he gets back to their room, the door is not locked. Good. Tony is nowhere to be seen. Bad. The sound of running water comes from the bathroom, indicating someone taking a shower. Good. Unless it’s someone other than Tony because someone came in here, killed Tony and is now washing the blood off, or because Jim ended up in the wrong room, both of which would be bad.

But the door opens and it’s Tony who comes out, dressed in the same jeans and sweater as before, but running a towel through his damp hair. Now it’s wet and hanging down, Jim can see all too clearly how long it has gotten.

A drop of water runs down Tony’s neck and disappears in the neckline of his shirt.

“I borrowed your razor,” he tells Jim, almost cheerfully, as if he hadn’t spent the last ten hours playing mute. “I thought about shaving off everything but I don’t think anyone really pays attention. Do you? I mean, I lost a lot of weight and the hat should do its job. What do you think?”

“I think you look weird without the beard,” Jim says. Shaving it off would probably better, though. But Tony already looks strange; tired, thin and pale. Shaving off the beard would make him look like a stranger.

“That’s what I thought. I think I need to go out and buy some clothes. I didn’t really think we’d be traveling for more than a few hours; this was bad planning. At least I have a toothbrush. Do you have a toothbrush? I can buy you one when I go shopping. And underwear and stuff, I guess we need that, too.”

Jim needs food, and a shower, and a nap. In that order. “Sit down and eat,” he says sternly. “Then we’ll go shopping together, else you’ll forget half the stuff we need and buy a lot of shit we don’t.”

Tony doesn’t even argue that. He waits while Jim sits at the small table and starts wolfing down his burger, but he doesn’t seem to see the salad that was placed in front of him, and he’s actually bouncing on his chair a little while his eyes look far away at something he’s either excited about or really needs to do.

“Eat your food, kid,” Jim growls at him. “What are you, five? Food is good for you and I’m not carrying you home when you collapse into a box full of socks at the store.”

“Not hungry,” Tony insists.

“Don’t make me play airplane with you.”

“I’m considering being really annoying just to see you try.”

“You are really annoying. Now eat or I’ll tie you to the bed and force-feed you.” Too late Jim remembers that that might not be a smart thing to say to someone who only recently got through two pretty harmful kidnapping experiences. But Tony doesn’t seem to take offense in any way. He just scowls at him and picks up the plastic fork.

He makes it through half the salad in the time Jim needs to finish his combo and not be starving anymore. Overall, that’s as much of a win as this situation allows.

He does drink all off the coffee Jim brought him, though, so there’s always that.

They go out shopping afterwards, as Tony wanted. Jim is basically dead on his feet, only coming along because he feels that a babysitter is needed here, but Tony is filled with manic energy and doesn’t seem to feel the long train ride or his injuries or anything else. (His injuries are really fucking bad even now. Aside from being shot, someone cut through his ribs and broke open his chest, and that hasn’t fully healed yet. How he is even walking is beyond Jim.)

They grab a few pairs of socks and boxer shorts, two t-shirts and a pair of jeans for each of them, as well as another cap for Tony to wear as a disguise. Afterwards, Tony runs through the stationery section and seemingly at random takes three notebooks of different sizes, a ruler and a bunch of pencils.

Since Tony is still hurt, Jim carries their stuff while his friend hurries down the sidewalk in a weird mix of limping and bouncing. It’s not far to the motel, but Jim would still have preferred taking a taxi. Tony insisted on walking.

Maybe Tony just has a lot of unnecessary energy to spare.

Once they make it back, Jim drops the bags and shuffles into the shower. He doesn’t take his time. When he comes out Tony is sitting on the desk, scribbling something into his new notebooks. From a distance it looks like designs. With Tony, designs are a pretty safe bet.

Maybe Tony thought of them while he was staring out of the train window. And now he’s very eager to get them out. Because he forgot he had a notebook with him on the train. Yeah, that sounds likely.

Jim leaves him be in favor of falling face down onto the bed. He just wants to…

Nope. It’s not happening. Jim can close his eyes and try to give in to his exhaustion all he wants, but part of his mind is always acutely aware of the sound of Tony’s pen moving over the paper when he applies too much pressure, of sheets being torn out of the notebook, of Tony shuffling in his chair. Whenever he’s completely still Jim just has to open his eyes to see what he’s doing, and what Tony’s doing is staring out of the window, only to then pick up his pen again and get back to work.

Jim lies awake like this for hours. It’s too early to sleep anyway, he tells himself as he pulls the pillow over his head and tries to ignore Tony’s presence in his life. He’ll have all night for sleep; no point in sleeping now and waking up long before dawn. No reason to be frustrated. Tony has to go to sleep eventually.

What does happen eventually is Jim drifting off. He doesn’t notice it happening so he doesn’t get to appreciate the fact. All he knows is that at some point he wakes up. It’s dark, the only light coming from the screen of the laptop Tony set up while Jim was asleep. Paper is scattered around the room. And Tony is still working with that almost manic gleam in his eyes.

When Jim drowsily tells him to come the fuck to bed, he doesn’t seem to hear him.

 

-

 

The next morning, Tony is in a ridiculously good mood. According to him, he designed five random household tools, discarded four of them, and taught Jim’s laptop how to speak. Jim eyes the thing warily but it doesn’t greet him, which he finds vaguely reassuring.

They have breakfast, meaning Jim eats the stale leftover salad from yesterday while Tony nibbles on his spring roll, and then Jim has the leftover spring roll. They make it to the station, board the train, and spend the next ten hours listening to the sound of the wheels on the tracks.

This time, Tony is cheerful, if distracted by typing furiously on Jim’s computer. Jim watches him closely and occasionally texts Pepper to keep her updated. She’s worried about Tony being recognized and confronted with things that might speed up his nervous breakdown. Jim tells her that Tony is wearing a baseball cap so it should be okay.

In between, Jim sleeps a little, has some snacks and drinks a lot of coffee. Tony drinks a lot of coffee. Jim kind of wants to make him stop so he can sleep, and make him eat so he doesn’t die, but there are people around and he doesn’t want to cause a scene that will draw attention to them.

By the time they arrive in Chicago, it’s getting dark. Jim is tired and his limbs are aching, and he longs for real food. At least, he thinks, he got the chance to get up and walk around inside the train, and there was a bistro with overpriced sandwiches and non-disgusting restrooms. He should be grateful that Tony didn’t feel like taking a Greyhound.

Because Jim would have been on that with him as well. And it would have sucked.

Again, they are taking a room in a motel, not far from the station. This time they have no reason to go out. Jim orders a pizza, getting Tony’s favorite in the hope of getting him to eat something. In the end he manages to do so by cutting one slice into tiny pieces and holding them before Tony’s mouth as he’s working. Basically, Tony has no other choice but to eat if he doesn’t want to either stop typing and scribbling or get melting cheese all over his face.

Why didn’t Jim think of this before? It works with little kids, doesn’t it?

He also doesn’t order any coffee. If Tony wants any, he’ll have to go out and get it.

“It’s like dealing with a child,” Jim grumbles around midnight, when Tony is yawning once every two minutes and still doesn’t slow down. Jim himself is not nearly as tired as he was the day before, but just watching his friend makes him want to lie down.

Eventually he puts his foot down and snags the laptop from Tony, closing the screen.

“Hey!” Tony glares at him. “You’re ruining my work!”

“It’s only in stand-by mode, nothing lost. You’ll get it back after you've slept.”

“What the hell, Jim? I’m not a fucking child!”

“You behave like one. And besides, it’s my laptop. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

Tony growls. With the inky rings around his eyes and his face mostly in shadow, he looks like something alien and unreal. “Make me.”

It’s not even a challenge. Jim takes him around the waist, lifts him over his shoulder, and dumps him on the bed. Tony struggles and curses but has no chance of getting away when Jim pins him down by the wrists. “You’re cheating!”

“I’m stronger than you. That’s not cheating.”

“Let me get my armor and we’ll continue this discussion.”

“That would be cheating on your part. Tony.” Jim lets go of one of Tony’s arms and grabs his chin when he looks away. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“You’re not okay. I know that. I know I can’t help you. But please, at least try to take care of yourself. Or let me take care of you. I don’t want… ”

“I can’t sleep,” Tony says, saving him from having to finish that sentence. “I don’t want to.”

“Nightmares.” Jim doesn’t even need to ask. “I know. Just. Let me help. You need sleep. I can wake you when it looks like you need it.”

“Rhodey.” Tony says his name with a sigh. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t.” Jim finally lets go of him and sits back, confident that Tony won’t try to run. “You can make it up to me by not being a pain in the ass.”

“I’ll always be that.” Tony smiles but Jim knows he means what he said. He’s right, too. And he won’t get that it doesn’t matter. “I don’t even know how to… Thanks for being there for me when I was losing it. Did I say that yet?”

“Kind of. But you may again, if it makes you feel better.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know. That’s why I was there.” Jim runs a hand through Tony’s hair. “Try to sleep, okay?”

“Not yet.” Much to Jim’s disappointment, Tony sits up. He doesn’t leave the bed, though. “I can’t just now. I know it. Give me another hour or two and I’ll fall over.”

“You’ll just get lost in work again and forget about the passing out. I’m not giving you back the laptop.”

“You don’t have to.” Tony sinks forward until his head is resting on Jim’s shoulder, and Jim’s arms wrap around him automatically, feeling him very warm and solid against his chest. He strokes Tony’s back, the too wide t-shirt riding up with every motion of his hand. After a minute or so, Tony turns his head so his mouth is against Jim’s neck and…

The feeling that shoots into Jim’s stomach at the sensation of Tony’s lips moving over his skin is a curious mix of excitement and dread. He hasn’t had this for a very long time, not with Tony, and a part of him just wants to lean into it and let his hands find their way under this damn t-shirt that keeps getting in his way. And, hey, Tony remembers that spot under Jim’s ear that makes part of his brain shut down immediately.

There’s a larger part, though, that is actually a sensible adult and in charge of his actions because being a sensible adult is what he is here for. It’s that part that pushes Tony away gently and keeps him at a distance.

Tony’s hair is falling into his face and his eyes are very large and very blue.

“This is a bad idea,” Jim tells him, not unkindly. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Tony doesn’t try to kiss him, but he fixes his eyes on Jim’s lips like he wants to. “I’m not taken. You’re not taken. Are you?”

This is the point where Jim should lie and put an end to this immediately, because if he’s in a relationship, Tony will respect that. “No, I’m not. But you only just left Captain-freaking-America, the man you wouldn’t shut up about even while he was still stuck in the ice. I can see how much you’re struggling with that, it’s written all over your face, dumbass.” He runs his thumb over Tony’s neck and wishes he could forget Tony’s lips on his own.

“If you think I’m just trying to get over Steve—”

“Of course you are,” Jim interrupts him. “And that’s okay,” he clarifies. “You’ve done it before. I’ve done it. Hell, I have no problem with you doing it now. But not with me.”

“Why not you?”

Jim was afraid of this question. “I can’t do this, Tony,” he says. “Not like this and not with you. Not now. I won’t be your Steve Rogers replacement.”

“Jim.” Tony leans in after all and kisses Jim before he can be stopped, but it’s only a brief brush of lips against lips before he leans back again. “I want you. No one else. I’m not using you to hurt Steve, or make him jealous, or to prove anything to myself. But I don’t want to hurt you either.” He leans against Jim again, but this time he’s facing away from him; seeking his closeness and nothing else, even though the way they are sitting, Jim can feel his erection, almost digging against his own. “I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

It sounds like giving up and giving in. There’s no attempt at manipulation in it, Jim knows that. Tony said what he wants but he’s going to submit to anything Jim decides without fighting him on it and that’s what settles it, that’s what makes him slide his hand under Tony’s shirt after all and use the other to turn Tony’s head and kiss him. Because he knows that if it’s not him, it will be someone else. Possibly anyone else. And Tony will give in just this easily to whatever they want, will do his best to lose himself in that affair and to please his partner, and Jim has no way of knowing who that will be, or if he even knows them. No way of knowing they won’t take advantage because Tony has a hard time recognizing when someone is bad for him and in times like this, he might not even care.

He does it because he loves Tony and wants Tony and right now, that makes him the best thing that can happen to Tony.

As he wraps his arms around Tony’s shoulders and guides him to lie on his back, he’s still telling himself that this is the rational thing to do.

 

-

 

This is not the first time they are doing this. The first time they had both been drunk.

It’s happened a couple of times and it has always been fun and it has never meant anything. That’s what’s different right now. This time Tony needs him and Jim isn’t sure if he’s taking advantage of that or being taken advantage of or if everything is going to be alright. But he knows that this is not something that will be over in the morning, and he’d lose himself in doubt and commitment issues if his life hadn’t been committed to Tony for a very long time.

Mostly, he doesn’t think about it. He tries not to think of anything but taking control of this and making a point of making it about Tony, about doing things that he knows Tony likes. Of giving pleasure rather than receiving it because Tony is in a fucked-up place right now and Jim needs him to understand that he doesn’t have to bend over and go out of his way to keep him happy in order to make him stay.

He doesn’t even know if Tony is overly aware of everything that’s going on. He’s so tired and so high-strung and desperate that he just gives in and writhes on the sheets in a way Jim has never seen him before; with his head thrown back and shudders running through him and fighting for breath. Jim doesn’t tease him much, knowing this is not the time, and when Tony comes with a breathless moan that dies stillborn in his throat, the sight alone is almost enough to make Jim come as well.

Afterwards, when they are both spent and messy and their hearts are beating far too fast, Jim holds Tony close, feeling every soft tremor that runs through his body, and thinks about how the metal armors they like to hide behind never protect them from things like this.

 

-

 

The ride to Sacramento takes fifty hours. One the one hand, Jim is not surprised because he knows it’s a long way. On the other hand he’s fucking shocked because fifty hours. On a train. That’s more than two days.

At least this time they have beds. Tiny, narrow beds, but beds. For lying down and stretching out. And staring out of the window, if they could find the right angle.

Jim would have planned to spend a lot of time in the lounge drinking, but that would have been plain unfair.

At least it’s just them in the tiny two-cot roomette. Not that anything is going to go on. Jim has already crossed Sex On A Train off his bucket list a long time ago, and he’s sure so has Tony. He’s actually happy if he can just get Tony to get some sleep some time in the fifty hours this is going to take.

If he's ever seen a sign that he’s getting old, this is it.

Predictably, Tony doesn’t sleep. At all. In two days. It’s not something unusual, but he’s still recovering. Jim can’t wrestle him to these beds, they’d break.

The train ride is made up of Jim hanging out in the dining car and in the lounge and doing push-ups in the corridor and sleeping at night, and of Tony working and doodling and communicating with Jim’s laptop, it seems, though the thing doesn’t seem willing to talk to Jim yet. In between, Tony stares out of the window a lot, though he never does it for long while Jim is watching. He barely eats and doesn’t even try to rest.

That night in Chicago, Tony slept like a corpse for five hours and then started crying and twitching in his sleep. Jim woke him up because he promised he would, knowing it would be a long time before Tony was willing to try again.

Just two hours or so before Sacramento, Tony falls asleep where he has been working on his cot. He lies still and quiet and Jim is glad; is glad until Tony comes awake with a twitch, and rolls out of bed with haunted eyes and a hand clutching his shirt, over the RT.

Jim didn’t notice anything was wrong.

 

-

 

The last train had beds; in theory, they are well rested. The next train will have beds as well because it’s another twenty hours to Seattle. There is no real point in staying the night in Sacramento, except that it’ll be another day before Tony has to be in Seattle and face life. He gets them a room in a hotel this time, on the fourteenth floor with view over the city and crisp sheets and room service if they want it.

Jim doesn’t think that Tony will sleep, though he needs it. For a moment, he finds himself missing the sedative they had for him when he was crazy.

He’s not very tired himself but he won’t sit around all night watching Tony work and his mind disappear to wherever it is he goes. He won’t go out and leave Tony alone. He takes the paper away and the laptop and this time Tony doesn’t fight him but moves to sit on Jim’s lap facing him, kissing him. He smiles a lot. He looks content and happy.

“There are messages from Steve on your phone.” Jim’s hands are resting on Tony’s hips, the bones sharp and hard against his palms. He saw him check his phone earlier; there were messages and Tony didn’t listen to them.

“I can’t talk to him.” Tony doesn’t say won’t, or shouldn’t. “If it was important, they would contact me on my other phone.” They.

“Tony.” Jim knows he sounds sad. He knows this can’t work. In this very moment he knows.

“That is over, Rhodey.”

“It’ll never be over. You two were together long before you started having sex. This is the one ongoing relationship in your life and it doesn’t end because you decide to not have sex anymore.”

“It’s not that I won’t see him again and change my number. You have been in my life longer than he has. Relationships change. Steve’s and mine has changed.”

“But you didn’t want it to.” There is no point in lying to anyone; Jim hopes Tony agrees.

“It had to. I fucked up. I don’t understand why he took me in the first place.”

“Your logic is screwed up. I agree that he should have told you more. I’m happy you’re not with him anymore.” No lies. Jim moves his hands up Tony’s back and feels the knops of his spine. “And if this had never happened—” He presses a quick kiss to Tony’s lips. “—I would still have been happy about it.”

“After you just told me he’s the love of my life.” There’s mirth in Tony’s voice. “You’re right, I’m not good for him. That’s why I left. It makes me an asshole but he’ll understand. Someone had to be the bad guy here.”

“Someone is the bad guy and it isn’t you. You’re frustrating.”

“I made him want to kill me and then I lived with him in domestic bliss as if it hadn’t happened.”

“He wanted to kill you and left you unaware of that when he moved in. Does that sound okay for you?”

“It sounds like he’s a better person than he should be.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“What do you want? I ended things.”

“And you’re suffering for it. You wish you didn’t have to.” Jim runs his thumb over Tony’s cheek, the bone underneath his eye. “You wish you were still with him.”

“I wish a lot of things. None of them come true. Accepting that is the trick.”

“Tony,” Jim says gently, just holding him now. “I can’t be Steve’s replacement for you. I refuse.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Tony is the one who kisses him this time and Jim shouldn’t let him. “I know who you are.”

“And it’s not who you want me to be.”

“I want you to be you. I want you. Why is that hard to understand?”

Jim could ask the same question. “You’re looking for something to keep you from drowning. I get that. I’m glad to be that for you, Tone. But I won’t spend forever being the second best choice.” He can’t, not for Tony. He’ll rather go back to the role that is his alone.

“You’re no one’s second choice, Ace.” Tony’s lips twitch and he smiles, if only a little. “You’re something else. And you’re not committing to anything. I’m not asking for forever. Just for here and now.”

“Wise words.” Jim finds himself smiling back. “Can’t be your own.”

“Rumiko said that to me once,” Tony volunteers, without bitterness. It’s a surprise; Jim hasn’t heard him say her name in years. But he remembers Tony from the days after her death and the ring he was going to offer her. Rumiko wanted here and now, a moment, and a moment is what she got, in the end.

And just like that, this seems like something Jim can do. Steve Rogers might be the one, but he was never the only one. Tony has loved before, and he has lost before. He can move on and move past them. Without forgetting, without replacing anyone. Letting them be a part of his past.

 

-

 

Contrary to Jim’s belief, there is no bed on the train to Seattle. Well, there are, in fact, many beds. But not for them, as they are all sold out. So they sit in their seats all day, waiting for their limbs to go stiff. Jim could have moved around, of course, except that apparently he managed to actually wear Tony out last night since the bastard is finally sleeping, with the baseball cap obscuring most of his face and his head resting on Jim’s shoulder.

So Jim sits very still. Naturally.

At some point, some five hours into the ride, Tony sighs and shifts, and mutters something Jim can’t make out. He doesn’t sound distressed so Jim lets him sleep. He just takes the cap that is sliding off Tony’s head and takes a moment to press a gentle kiss to Tony’s forehead and brush the hair out of his face, marveling at the contrast between Tony’s pale skin and jet black hair and Jim’s dark brown fingers, touching both.

Then he places the cap back and settles into his seat, only to notice the stare of a fifty-something woman on the other side of the aisle who doesn’t even pretend not to watch them. She looks disapproving. Jim kind of wants her to make noise so he’ll have an excuse to shut her up.

But she doesn’t. They both go back to looking out of their respective sides of the window.

 

-

 

An hour later, the train stops at another station and Tony comes awake with a gasp and Rogers’ name on his lips. He looks lost and broken for a second. Then he looks out of the window. Jim goes back to reading his book.

One hour from Seattle, Tony runs a hand over his face and sighs. “I need a shower.”

“A lot of people in this wagon need a shower,” Jim remarks drily.

“I need a suit, too. I need…” He sighs again. “Some sleep, actually. Or a lot of coffee and makeup. Pepper used to be good at that. Do you think she’d help me this time? It’s for a good cause,” he adds hopefully.

“What good cause?” This sounds suspicious. Tony has obviously been thinking and Jim can’t follow because Tony doesn’t always give context to what he’s talking about. “What are you going to do that you need a suit and makeup for?” Makeup to cover how crappy he looks, probably. Something official, then. Possibly with the media involved…

“I’m going to give a statement to the press.” Tony is looking down at the paper in his lap as if it holds all the answers, but for all Jim can tell he’s been doodling trains for the last hour. “Need to clear some things up.”

“If this has to do with Rogers and you… ” Tony has had access to the internet for the last couple of days. Of course he knows what’s going on now.

“I’ll take care of that.” He sounds determined. “The sooner the better. They need to leave everyone alone. And Logan needs to stop giving them answers, that never looks good for anyone. Can I bunk with you? You have a place in the city, don’t you?”

The question is unexpected and clearly a deliberate change of topic. “So do you.”

“No, I sold it when I moved back to New York. Need something new one of these days. Not sure I can stay in a hotel until then, that’s too expensive.” He laughs drily. “Never thought I’d have to say that.”

“You ran a pretty successful company there,” Jim reminds him. “And sold it.”

“For a dollar,” Tony points out, and that’s just him, that’s the Tony Stark the media is never interested in. The guy who once decided to start over with another name and gave all his money to charity.

Jim has no doubt that Tony has some reserves, and he knows he’ll make a fortune in no time once he sets his mind to it, but right now Tony’s mind is pretty far away, and Jim does have an apartment in Seattle, if not a big one. They don’t need big. Tony has lived on the streets. He’s not as picky as he likes people to believe.

Besides, one bed will do. Just enough room for Jim and Tony and the shadow of Steve Rogers.

So they climb out of the train an hour later, with aching and stiff limbs and Jim wondering if he should offer to pay for part of the trip because it was expensive and he has money and maybe Tony doesn’t. But it would be silly, and Tony’s not spending money he doesn’t have.

He even pays for the taxi that takes them to Jim’s place.

Then he takes a shower, tries on one of Jim’s good suits that looks big and ridiculous on him, gives up and calls Pepper since he’s pretty sure there’s a spare suit of his somewhere in the offices.

While Jim prepares some simple food in the kitchen, Tony listens patiently while Pepper yells at him for half an hour.

“First time I talked to her in weeks,” Tony grumbles after the call, his eyes fixed on the food Jim places in front of him like it’s something alien that might attack him.

“Is she sending the suit?”

“Yeah. I think so. She might burn it. Apparently Splitlip did something horribly inappropriate during an AA meeting and that’s my fault because I wasn’t there to prevent it. Or something. If the suit isn’t here tomorrow, she burned it.”

“Eat.” Jim points to the plate. “Look good and healthy for the cameras. They all love you, you know.” He’s not talking about the cameras.

“I know.” But he doesn’t, he just doesn’t want to have this conversation. His shoulders are hunched as he picks at his food. He looks like a man who fucked up his life and knows it.

Jim tries not to take it personally.

 

-

 

So Tony gives a statement to the press. Fortunately, the suit arrives in time. It arrives with Pepper attached to it, and with makeup she applies to Tony’s face, which looks like he spent this last night tossing in Jim’s bed and not sleeping one second, which is what he did. When Tony goes out, he looks human; like a human who has spent some time in captivity and suffered some injuries, but is well on the way to recovery and just needs some calories and exercise. He doesn’t answer any questions. He just tells them what he wants them to know.

When he is done and they are alone, Pepper slaps him. Jim doesn’t, but he would like to.

Tony doesn’t looks sorry, just devastated.

He spends the rest of the day in Jim’s garage, working on a new minimum-noise engine for trains.

 

chapter 9