The night was silent; the kind of quiet that made the world seem as though it had been drained of all its sound. Leaving the air thick and hard to breathe, with an unease to the atmosphere that surrounded you. There was an eeriness to the darkness that encapsulated the living room you sat within, something in the way that you could hear the sound of your steady breaths hiting the air in front of you. A silence that crept up your spine and left a chill down your flesh, for everything was intensely intuned to even the smallest semblence of a sound. For it seemed so out of place in the dense void you found youself trapped inside of. The low hum of the air conditioning, and the rustle of the rain blowing through the trees just on the other side of the wide window across the way. They were the faintest of sounds, mixing with the soft breaths you made yourself take every few seconds, but they seemed overwhelming in the silence that nearly suffocated you in the darkness. 

The compound felt coldest at night, you quickly learned. It's large windows and overbearing walls making the structure wide and unmissable, and yet when it came to the interior, none of the fancy machinery or functions or even the grand size could compare to the feeling within the walls that encased you. There was a time when it felt warm, when it felt full, but the second Steve Rogers crossed over the threshold, it was as though he had stolen the sun and had taken it along with him. Leaving the beautiful structure empty... lifeless. 

The raindrops trickled down the far window like teardrops running down your cheeks, it was as though the dark night sky cried for you. Knowing that you had shed more tears in the past couple days than you had in your entire life. There was no storm trailing behind the soft patter of the rain falling against the roof, for there was no anger in the clouds. There was no storm raging inside the sky. It simply needed the cry that you yourself had taken comfort in. And so, in the darkness of the living room, you watched as the skies teardrops coated the glass. Lost in the trance of the emotion rolling down the siding, for once feeling what it was like to cry out the pain in your heart, without the sting of a single tear touching down across your skin. 

"I'm pretty sure that there's nothing out there that you haven't seen during the day, that you need to see at two-thirty in the morning." The voice came from the doorway behind you without warning, and the very presence of another made your heart nearly hammer out of your chest. Your body jumping at the sudden voice ringing through the once silent room, and causing the mug--that you had begun to forget you were even holding tightly in your hands-- slosh from the jostle. The hot tea splashing onto the cotton sweatpants covering your left thigh, but still wincing at the initial burn of the warm liquid soaking through. 

"Don't you know better than to sneak up on someone in the dark?" You asked with a slightly furrowed brow, but still didn't turn your head around to look at the man the voice belonged to. Instead, you stayed still with your legs tucked under you, as your eyes stayed focused straight ahead on the falling rain. 

Tony Stark entered the living room with soft steps, but you could hear him exhale a deep breath as he sauntered across the hardwood floors towards the couch that sat to your right. Just beyond the short coffee table dividing the two peices of matching furnature, and you could see from out of the corner of your eyes as he slowly rested himself down upon the cusions. Crossing one ankle over the opposite knee, as he relaxed back with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. As he settled into your meloncholy company, the silence that once penatrated the room slowly eased back in. For the sound of the rain coated the atmosphere, and soon Tony's steady but deep breaths were audioable in the quiet. But just as it came, it disappeared, for a quiet moment didn't often stay long with Tony around.

"How long have you been sitting down here?"

You lifted your shoulder, as your gaze dropped from the far window to the pale and barely steaming liquid that swirled inside the porcilen mug warming your hands. And instead of answering his question, you brought the mug to the edge of your lips and felt the warmth fan softly across your face as you tilted it back. The light scent of peppermint soaring through your senses, as you allowed the calming tea to run down your throat, warming you from the inside out.

"I know you haven't been sleeping in your room," Tony remarks, as you set the cup back down onto your lap. "I walked by your door tonight, and saw the bed looking exactly how it has been for the past few days. Completly made, like a single person hasn't even touched it. Not a pillow out of place, not a single crease in the sheets. It's like it's just sitting there for decoration."

Shutting your eyes at his words, you leaned over and set your mug down on the coaster resting on the glass coffee table. Before leaning back into the couch cusions, and wrapping your arms around yourself as though they could protect you from the inquiry aimed your way. But there's something about Tony's intent gaze on you, that makes you feel as though you're as translucent as the window across the way. Like the words he says and the way he can see straight into your pained heart, tears down any of the protective walls you had just begun building in defense to his questioning. For you feel the tears build once again in the back of your throat, and the pierce of tears in the corners of your weary eyes, as your lips move to speak.

"I can't sleep in there Tony," You whisper as your voice cracks in the suffocating void you feel trapped inside of again. But this time, it's that familiar pain constricting your chest and making it hard to breathe. Crushing yourself from the inside, your own heart tearing you apart. 

You hear him exhale another deep breath before he dips his head down, and says three single words in a matter of fact tone. Not a question and no wondering to be found. He says it in the way that he already knows it's the truth, and he's only saying it outloud so you know it too. 

"You miss him."

As those three words step upon the open wound gracing your racing heart, your eyes flicker upward and your head swings to the right to stare at the man who let them out into the void. Even with the tears beginning to blur your vision and the darkness, in which you both sit in, heavy, with only the pale glow of a plug in light near the edge of the room, you can see Tony clearly. Even as you can hear the faint disdain in his voice, and the rigidness in which his muscles sit, there isn't a speck of judgement clouding his brown eyes. He sits slouched against the couch with his arms still loose across his chest, his body clothed in heather grey sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. His matching sweatshirt unzipped as his hair lays faintly disheveled as though the rain had woken him up. And although you can feel the discomfort from him regarding the subject palpable in the air, he doesn't look at you with eyes that make you shrink in shame. Instead, compassion and concern fill the orbs that look at you in the darkness. 

"I do," You croak out into the dense sufferable silence. "I miss him so much."

Wrapping your arms tighter around yourself, as you pull your knees inward towards your chest, the sound of another deep sigh fills the room. And as Tony runs a hand across his jaw as his body leans forward, you hear a snide comment fall from his lips just as you rest your forehead down against your kneecaps. But the emotion overtaking your body drains out the bitter joke of Steve and his perfection that always got under Tony's skin, and all you can do I cry into the soft cotton fabric covering your legs. 

"Maybe I shouldn't." You cry out softly, and slowly, you lift your head. Feeling the smudging of tears across your face and under your eyes like paint smeared across a canvas. And the words feel heavy in your throat, but looking over at Tony you find the will to express the pain you had bottled up inside of yourself. 

There was something comforting in Tony's company; there always had been. It was as though he was the father you never had, and he cared for you in a way only someone who loved you could. And even now, as you heart bled for the man who hurt Tony worse than any bullet ever could, he still listened. He allowed you to cry in his presence over the man you loved that he could never see eye to eye with. The man who his father never stopped talking about, the man that made Tony feel as though the world always had to be black and white. That there was always a clear answer to everything, right and wrong, all the while... Tony was stuck in the grey. But here Tony was, listening to your tearful admission of love for the man who betrayed him.

"Maybe it's better this way, maybe this is the way things are supposed to be now." You whisper as you wipe the back of your hand over your cheek. Feeling the remnants of salty tears absorb into the warm flesh of your hand. "but I can't stop seeing him in my mind and hearing his voice in my head. I can't close my eyes without the sight of his blue eyes there waiting for me. I can't sleep in that bed, because I know the moment I slip under those sheets I'll feel him. I can't fall asleep because I know he'll be there in my dreams. I can't stop missing him."

The missing him was the worst pain you had ever felt in your entire life. It was a heart ripping out of your chest, stomach twisting into a million tiny knots, cries tearing through your throat kind of missing him, and it nearly killed you every second you breathed knowing he was gone.  

Your tears had left you in a daze, your mind clouded and your vision completely blurred, until the gentle press of a hand against your tear stained cheek brought you above the crashing waves. And opening your eyes--that was no easy feat-- you were met with softened brown eyes that looked at you intently. Tony's hand gently cradled the side of your face, as the pads of his fingers slid across the salty rivers. And with a small exhale that blew across your shoulder, he spoke up in a low voice. 

"I might not understand it, and I might not be able to forgive him for what he's done to me," Tony says in a steady voice, his eyes never leaving yours. "but that doesn't mean I need to bring you into my suffering." 

Pulling away from you, his hand leaving a cold chill across your cheek, Tony stands up slowly. And reaching down into this pocket, you watch as his hand retracts with something tightly grasped in his palm. It sparkles as the very faint hue of light glints across the silver, and with a deep breath from the both of you, Tony Stark extends his hand out to you.

"You need him..." He whispers. "tell him that."

And as your palm reaches up, he presses something warm from where it sat close to his body heat in his pocket, and looking down as you draw it towards yourself, a cellphone looks back at you. Your thumb running over the simple silver and matte black casing, and just as your mouth opens to ask Tony what it's for, your eyes look up and realize he's disappeared from the room. Sitting up straight, you look around but know he's left. He's left you alone with the cellphone he gave to you. And looking down at it, as it sits gently on your thigh, you pick it up with a shaky hand. 

Flipping it open, you see that there is only one number programmed, and with a simple press of a button, you dial.

The silence of the room fills your ears as the dial tone fades into the background, until it's suddenly cut off, and what comes next leaves you breathless.

"Hello?"

"Steve?"

A/N: This idea came to me suddenly and evolved quickly, and I absolutely fell in love with the emotion and the dialogue I created for this one. The last few lines were really what sparked this one, the last three lines were one of the first things that actually came to my mind when the idea struck me, and I think it really pulls at the heart strings. I'm so happy with how this one turned out, and I hope you enjoyed!💙