Stony One-shots

And Isn't that Cruel? (AU?)

⋆ ⋆—~—~—~ Info About One-shot ~—~—~—⋆ ⋆

Short Summary: Based on the song "Drift Away" by Cristina Vee but only a bit.

Side ships: None

Trope: Angst

Word Count (including info abt one-shot and A/Ns): 1500

Timeline: A week or two after Civil War.

Other - A/Ns: "Isn't that lovely? Isn't that cool? And isn't that cruel? And aren't I a fool?"

⋆ ⋆—~—~—~ Tony's POV ~—~—~—⋆ ⋆

I pulled the duvet of my bed over my body. My body. How disgusting. Ever since... what happened... I have been more insecure than ever. I rested my head on the pillow below me. I kept my eyes open in the jet-black darkness. Thinking. Something I really shouldn't do. I can't trust myself to be alone with my thoughts.

To be alone with myself.

I sighed quietly, sinking deeper into self-loathing. My self-worth is measured by my reputation. And, God, was my reputation low. I inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Is that what I have been reduced to? A breathing sack of meat? A waste of space?

Like I said, I can't trust myself to be alone with my own thoughts. It's pathetic, honestly. The only thing keeping me going is the thought that, maybe, one day I'll get back to them... him.

Seconds turned into minutes, and those turned into hours. I arise from my slumber and go back to work. Work. A pathetic attempt to distract myself from my ever-growing boredom of living.

Quite a while later, Peter walks into the tower, I am made aware of this by FRIDAY. "Sir, Peter Parker has entered the building." I hear her robotic voice from the speakers above me, "Should I let him in?" She continues. A moment of silence, I swim through all the possible reasons for Peter to be here.

"Let him in," I speak, deadpanned. Minutes later, he arrives at my floor, "Mr. Stark?" He calls out to the wide space he is presented with. My Living room. I quickly put on a jacket that smells decent and cleaned myself up before entering the room with him. He sees me as some sort of "role model", I can't let him see me like this.

"Kid, what's up?" I say, trying to give emotion, as I walk into the large space. "Uhh, Sir... Mr. Stark... I just came here to bring something to you..." He seemed hesitant to say those words... like they would hurt me or something. "Continue," I encourage. He takes a deep breath before speaking.

I could feel the once peaceful atmosphere suddenly become what I would call stressful. "Mr. Rogers," He spoke, once again hesitantly. That was it. That... name. That one mention of his name was enough to send me spiraling down a deep, deep pit of despair, agony, pain.

But worst of all, love. God, did I love that man. That beautiful, beautiful man. He lives rent-free in my head. That's probably why... what happened... hurts me so much. Ever since I laid my eyes on him, I wanted him. That was so long ago... when I met him.

His golden blonde hair, and, God, his blue eyes. I could drown in those eyes for the rest of eternity, and I wouldn't mind if he would just let me.

It's pathetic. These feelings. I'm so head-over-heels in love with him it makes me look stupid. "Love". Don't know her.

"Mr. Rogers," Peter said, trying not to sound so serious, "Mr. Rogers, he... he wrote you a letter." As those words left the boy's mouth, I could feel heaps of insecurities and fear bubbling up in my mind. "Butterflies" entered my digestive system. I wanted to throw up. But I also wanted to see what he wrote.