#but this is Peachy Steve!! she is 1 year old today

[cosmicpoppies]

What a difference a year makes....happy birthday Peachy 🍑 💞🎉

[evenheroesbleedastonyfanfic]

Chapter 1 “Remembrance Day”

             It’s time. He doesn’t want to but he knows he has to get up. He could hear the alarm clock blaring across the room. Silently he cursed to himself. There’s really no need for the alarm. He doesn’t sleep deep enough to need one but he keeps it anyway.

             It was Steve’s alarm.

             He tried, a thousand times, to get rid of the damned thing. But he couldn’t even find the courage to change the time on it so it didn’t go off at such an ungodly hour. God, why did he always get up so early, he thought. Every time he tries his heart contracts and he’s left shaking and drenched in sweat. So he just lives with it—even though it’s a painful reminder that Steve would never wake up early to watch the sunrise again.  

             Somehow he managed to get out of bed and get ready. It’s Remembrance Day, a day dedicated to the fallen heroes of the war against Thanos. It’s also the day Steve died. A day he would rather forget. A day he can never forget. A day no one would ever let him forget. Because as the world celebrates the bravery and sacrifice of Captain America, Iron man should always bear witness. The husband. The widower. The one he saved the world for and gave up his life.

              To Tony Stark, it was pure torture.

              He’d rather be lying down dead beside his husband. But Steve made sure he lived. That fucking bastard,” he muttered as he made his way to the helipad where the Quinjet is waiting to take him to Washington. There, he and the remaining Avengers are going to be honored for the 7th year in a row. Dead for 7 years and Steve still drives him insane. He’d give everything to have him back.

               The flight was only less than an hour but he could already feel his head throbbing.  He’ll definitely be in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Good, he thought. Maybe then they’ll let him skip the ceremonies. As soon as the thought came to him he knew it was never going to happen. The world needed a symbol for their superficial annual grieving. Why they can’t understand that he is still living with the grief is beyond him. All he wants is to be left alone. He doesn’t need to be reminded of how selfless Steve was—he sees the proof in the mirror every day.

              He found Rhodey in the standby room, already finished with his coffee.

             “No Peter and Harley again?” Rhodey asked as soon as he saw Tony by himself. Tony shrugged. He’s used to going alone to this charade now. Peter refused and begged Tony not to force him to attend the ceremonies from the beginning. I can’t do it Dad! I can’t let him go! Meanwhile, Harley stopped coming after the 3rd year. If Peter doesn’t have to go, then I don’t want to go. He wanted to get mad at his children, but he knew how hard it was for them. Things weren’t exactly peachy between Peter and Steve when Steve died. Steve was still trying to make amends for leaving him for Bucky. Peter, who was old enough to understand what his Pops had done, couldn’t forgive him.

             “Isn’t this supposed to start at 8? Where is everybody?” he asked, changing the subject. Before Rhodey could reply the door opened and in came Nat and Sam.

             “Bruce isn’t coming,” Nat spat. “And so is Thor. It’s just the four of us today. I can’t believe those shitheads, missing something this important!”

             Tony and Rhodey exchanged curious looks. Natasha is in one of her moods—something they’ve seen getting more frequent over the years. She used to be one of the hardest people to read but ever since she lost Steve, the person she trusted the most, she had become temperamental and careless. Sam subtly signaled them not to engage with her. And they didn’t. Tony had no desire to further agitate his already massive headache. Hesilently wondered how Sam could tolerate her temper tantrums. Maybe the rumours about them being a couple now are true. Whatever. It wasn’t really not his concern. As long as Sam is there to make sure Natasha doesn’t go off the edge he could care less about their status. He just wants to get this event over with so he could go home and sleep.

             These days nothing hardly ever happens in the world. Yes, they still had the occasional nuisance. But nothing major enough to require the services of the Avengers. They’ve become nothing but figureheads. Perhaps the hullabaloo with Thanos wore out would be bad guys. He couldn’t decide if it was a bad thing. Yes, they had peace. But all he wanted was peace of mind. And since he couldn’t really get that he craved distraction—which is so hard to come by these days.

             Tony silently thanked the heavens when one of the organizers finally fetched them. The presidents were already onstage. It was show time.

               Skies were blue. There was a gentle breeze. Everything looked and felt perfect.

              Fuck me. It was all Tony could think.

              Fuck me. Fuck you. This is all your fault you selfish sonafabitch.

              They were playing a tribute video for Captain America. The background music was deep and sweeping and full of drama. It was supposed to bring tears to everyone’s eyes. He didn’t need an audiovisual cue. All he needed to do was think of his husband’s smiling face, the one he will never see again, and he is lost. Lost in an ocean. Adrift and drowning at the same time.

              His memories took him to the night he first met Steve in person.

              He grew up in the shadow of the super soldier. Steve Rogers. Captain America. All his father could talk about while he was growing up was this man who was the very definition of hero. A man who was so selfless he died to save literally the whole world. To Tony he was like the perfect older brother whose perfectly timed death cemented his place on a pedestal. An older brother he was striving to be, while secretly hating on because he could never be him. He resented him, even though he was nothing but a memory. So when he found out from Fury that Captain America had just been recovered and revived, he just had to see him. He wanted to know if his resentment was misguided. He never imagined that seeing Steve for the first time would take his breath away. He was the most beautiful human being he had ever seen.

              He was still lost in that memory when the first explosion went off.

             “Get the presidents out of here!!!” he heard Rhodey scream. It took him a couple of seconds to register what was going on around them. Another explosion was heard, followed by rapid gun shots.

             “Tony! TONY! Get your head out of your ass! We’re under attack!” Natasha was already running towards the end of the street where the explosion came from. Sam was already airborne, ahead of the swat team assigned to this event. It was pandemonium everywhere.

             He stood frozen for a second.

             Shit.

             And then his muscle memory activated.

             “Friday, get me my suit,” he spoke to his AI. Nowadays he doesn’t wear the automated suit that lets him gear up in seconds. It’s always just nearby though, in this case, in the Quinjet.

             “Already on its way, boss,” his AI replied. A minute later he felt the familiar weight of metal around his skin. It has been so long since he was dressed this way. It almost feels uncomfortable.

             “Look mom! It’s Ironman! He’s back!” he heard a kid scream while he was being dragged away by his mother to safety. The word seemed so foreign.

             “Tony? Are you suited?” he heard Rhodey through his coms.

             “Yeah. Where are you?”

             “I’m escorting the presidents. Sam and Nat are headed east.”

             “Do you have visuals on the bomber?”

             “Bombers. And they’re armed to the teeth—“

              Another explosion shakes them. This time, near the Lincoln Memorial.

              ”Fuck!” Nat’s curse rang in his ear and another memory ate at him.

              Language. The first few years of Captain America’s 2nd life was a source of fond memories. His propriety and naivety gave them all quite a few laughs. But he was also a great leader.

              “I’m on my way to the 2nd location,” he said. He flew towards the Lincoln Memorial, suddenly alert and focused.

              “Tony, please be careful,” said Rhodey.

              “Of course,” he replied. He wanted to be offended but knew his friend only meant well. He knew Rhodey thinks he’s emotionally compromised.

              Nothing could have prepared him for the devastation he found. He smelled and heard it before he saw it. Bodies everywhere. Death. Destruction. The screams of people in pain or running away were piercing. He surveyed the area, looking for the bomber, but all he saw were more bodies, dead and alive. It never used to derail him whenever they were in battle. Sure, he grieved after every fight but during the fight, all he focused on was the enemy.

              He struggled to keep alert.

              “Tony, do you have visuals on the perps?”

              “No, not yet—“

              “HELP! SOMEONE HELP US!”

              A voice steals his attention.

              No. It can’t be.

              “Please! I need help!”

              He followed the voice, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

              “Please, someone, anyone! Help us!”

              There’s ringing in his ears—but the voice was crystal clear. He knew that voice.

              He searched frantically. He didn’t care that the bomber had been forgotten suddenly. All he cared about was that voice. He cannot be mistaken.

              Steve.

              It was Steve’s voice.

              “Help!”

              “Tony, what’s going on?” he heard Rhodey. But he dared not reply, afraid that speaking would break it—whatever spell it was that was letting him hear his dead husband’s voice so clearly.

              “Tony?!”

              He turned off his coms.

              Where are you? Oh God, please let me find him—

              And he did.