Tony decides he has to do this alone.

He would love to have Pepper here with him. He would love to have that emotional support. But he can't drag her into this. He'll tell her everything, of course, when it's over, but the conversation itself... That has to be between himself and Steve.

So he heads to Steve's room – FRIDAY told him the captain was in there, though why he is when he could be out amongst the other Avengers, he doesn't pretend to understand – and knocks on the door. He's glad it worked out this way. He's glad they get to do this someplace far removed from everyone else. He's glad he doesn't have to worry about any intrusions.

"Yeah?" Steve calls from within his room.

Tony takes that as his cue that he's allowed inside, so he opens the bedroom door just in time to see Steve pull his slightly damp shirt off over his also slightly damp head and show off his abs that are honestly way too perfect and should not be allowed to exist.

Steve looks over at him, a brow raised, and Tony briefly debates his options – namely, closing the door and waiting for Steve to be fully clothed before he attempts to enter again or just walking in and acting like he owns this place and that this isn't weird at all – and ultimately, he decides to go for the latter, because embarrassment is for the weak and he is not that.

So Tony steps into the room and kicks the door closed behind himself. "Hey, Cap. You got a few minutes?"

"Yeah, sure," Steve says. "Let me just put on a shirt that doesn't have a giant stain on it."

Tony huffs, amused. "Just finished your ridiculously early morning run?" he guesses.

"That obvious, huh?" Steve replies, running a hand through his messy wet hair. He tosses his shirt into his hamper – an impressive feat from that distance – and grabs a new one out of his bureau, throwing it on without paying any mind to which one it is.

Tony cocks a brow, a smirk on his lips. "Nice shirt."

Steve looks down at it, and he rolls his eyes when he sees what shirt he accidentally put on. "Well, I'm making use of your birthday gift for me. I hope you're happy."

"Oh, I am ecstatic," Tony says with a grin. As far as he's concerned, there's no better time to wear a Fourth of July t-shirt than the middle of May.

Steve shakes his head to himself, amused. "What do you want, Tony? Because I assume you're not just here to critique my shirts."

Tony's smile falters at the question. No, he did not seek Steve out to critique his shirts, but he'd sure like to continue doing it so he can procrastinate talking about what he actually came here to talk about.

Steve frowns, his brows creased with concern. "Tony?" he says cautiously. "Are you okay?"

Tony swallows hard and forces a smile. "Yeah, no, I'm totally fine," he lies. "I just..." He takes a deep breath. He's not going to beat around the bush. He's just going to say it. (Ask it? It's kind of a question.) "When I told you yesterday to ask Bucky about my night, did you...?"

Steve's brows shoot up. "You wanted me to ask Bucky?"

Tony scoffs, incredulous. "Yes, I wanted you to ask Bucky! What the hell did you think I meant?"

"You said my boyfriend!" Steve says defensively. "I thought you meant Loki!"

Tony throws his hands up, exasperated. "Dammit, Steve, that is not the boyfriend I was talking about!"

"Then you need to stop calling everyone my boyfriend!"

Tony runs a hand down his face. This is not at all he expected this conversation to start. Even just a 'no, I didn't ask him' would have been fine, but this is a horrible opening.

Steve heaves a sigh. "Do you want me to go ask Bucky about your night?" he asks.

"Of course not," Tony says. "Why would I come here to talk to you and then tell you to talk to someone else first? That would be stupid!"

"Okay, then what am I supposed to do right now?"

"You're supposed to stand there and let me talk at you!"

Steve lolls his head back, clearly as exasperated as Tony is, and gestures for him to go ahead.

But this is a horrible way to have this conversation, so Tony takes another deep breath and prepares to start again in a much calmer, much more orderly fashion. "Steve," he begins.

"Tony," Steve replies, matching his tone to the tee. Is Steve mocking him? He's pretty sure Steve is mocking him. Fucking rude.

"You knew my parents," Tony says. It's more a statement of fact than a question.

Steve furrows his brows. "I mean, I knew your dad," he says, confused. "But you know that."

"Yeah, I do," Tony says, which he's sure doesn't answer any of his questions, and he's not sure he cares about that. "What do you know about how my parents died?"

Steve's confusion only seems to grow. "Well, I was in the ice at the time, so I just know what I was told."

"And what were you told?" Tony asks. What does he already know? Was he complicit in keeping Bucky's secret? And if he was, how long has he known? Days? Weeks? Years, even?

Steve sighs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "What's going on, Tony?" he asks gently. Tony hates that. He hates that Steve thinks he has to handle him with little kid gloves – especially over something that happened decades ago. He's not a child. He doesn't need his protection. He just needs to know. He needs to know if his teammate – if his friend – has been keeping something this big and this important from him.

"What were you told, Steve?" Tony asks again. That's what he wants to know.

Steve shakes his head helplessly. "I was told that Howard – that your parents – were in a car accident, and that they didn't survive."

"Is that all you were told?"

Steve leans against his bureau. "What's this about, Tony?"

At this point, he sees no reason to beat around the bush, so, as he feels the beginnings of those tears pricking at his eyes, he asks simply, "Did you know?"

Steve doesn't answer.

"Did you know?" Tony asks again, his voice only a whisper now in a desperate attempt to keep it from cracking. "That it was Bucky?"

Steve sighs, lowering his head solemnly.

Tony huffs, his hands on his hips. "You did," he hisses. He should have known. He should have fucking known. The minute Bucky told him the truth, he should have known that Steve had known, too.

Steve takes a deep breath before he answers, and he doesn't look up as he does. "I didn't know it was him."

Tony scoffs. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demands. Either he knew or he didn't. There's no in-between. Either he knew that he invited his supposed friend's parents' murderer to live here, or he didn't.

This time, Steve does meet his gaze. Tony hastily wipes the tears from his eyes before they can fall.

"There were rumors," Steve says. "Around SHIELD. People had said that there was more involved than just a car crash. But that's all they were: they were rumors; they were theories."

"Rumors that your buddy killed my parents?" And he didn't think to mention that? Ever? At literally any moment in the literal years they've lived together?

"Rumors that somebody had," Steve says. "Yes, I'd heard rumors that it was the Winter Soldier, but I'd heard rumors that it was a Widow, or that it was someone from SHIELD, or that it was an assassin hired by someone with a grudge to level. But they were just rumors, Tony. I had no more reason to believe them than I do to believe that Hitler secretly lives on the moon."

In a different situation, that might have gotten a smile out of him. Right now, he's just trying to keep the tears in until this conversation is over.

"Are you sure it was him?" Steve asks. If Tony wasn't pissed before, that question sure does it.

"Well, considering Bucky told me himself, I think I can be pretty damn sure," Tony snaps.

Steve's brows shoot up. "Bucky told you?"

"Mm-hmm," Tony hums. He sure fucking did.

Steve sighs. "I'm sorry, Tony," he says quietly. "I promise, I didn't know. I would have told you."

Tony just looks at him for a few moments, his jaw clenched, his eyes watering, until finally, he just turns and walks out.

Unfortunately, when he opens the door, Loki is standing on the other side of it, a look of much-too-mild shock on his face for the situation.

Tony rolls his eyes and pushes past him. He's not in the mood to deal with that right now. He just...

He needs to see Pepper.

That's what he needs.

He needs to go back to his room, to sit with Pepper, and to sob uncontrollably for at least eight minutes straight.

And that is exactly what he's going to do.