He's immobilized. Trapped in his suit, unable to move as he stares at Yinsen moving around him.

"Yinsen," He gasps, "What are you doing? Help me!"

He gets no reaction from the other man. Yinsen pulls back, dumping an empty container of what Tony now realizes is kerosene into the corner of the dark, filth-ridden room. His suit is dripping, glistening with the flammable agent and Tony jerks around attempting to free himself. Panic sets in, a bubble of fear sliding up his throat, choking him, drowning him and he desperately thrashes. How ironic, Tony thinks, that what was made to save us will kill me. That something so beautiful, made from the scraps of metal and hope, would become so deadly to it's creator.

"Yinsen, please, this isn't funny." Fear creeps into his voice, "This isn't funny! Please! Please! I don't want to die, Yinsen! NO! NO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS! PLEASE, PLEASE, I CAN'T!" He shrieks, his voice pleading.

Yinsen tilts his head, leaning in close to the face plate. From the close proximity, Tony can read the madness in his eyes, too far gone to be brought back. He lights a match, the low light flickering, accenting the dark hollows, and if this were not a life or death situation, Tony would compare Yinsen to a Jack-O-Lantern; strangely haunting, dark, mad. The taps on his faceplate bring Tony back to the present.

"You could have saved me. Why did you get to live when all you did was damage the world, inventing the same weapons technology that captured and enslaved us? Why did you get to walk away and resume your life of partying, wasting your money, and avoiding responsibility when I had to leave my family? You are worthless scum. You have no family, you fool around with anybody who even breathes near you, you designed weapons that slaughtered millions, you deserve nothing, not even a shred of happiness. I should have been the one to survive. It should have been me!"

Tony swallowed, shaking, and breathed out in a weak voice, wavering, "I know. I know, I don't deserve to live. And I'm so, so sorry about what happened in this cave. I've never been good enough, I shouldn't have made it out." His voice began to strengthen. "You don't think I know how unworthy I am? Or about how haunted I feel? How what happened in Afghanistan doesn't plague me to this day?" He let out a self-deprecating laugh; harsh, short, and angry. "It's been over a decade since then. I'm constantly troubled with nightmares, I contemplate suicide, I used to drink to forget. I hide in my workshop for days. Not eating, or sleeping, or drinking. Even my team is worried about me and I lie to them every. Single. Day. About how I'm fine, or that it's nothing. And in reality I'm not okay. Not even remotely close to being okay. And honestly, I deserve to die. But you know why I am not? Because I, Anthony Edward Stark, am a coward. Yes, I have suicidal thoughts. And yes, I have suicidal tendencies. But the truth is that I am afraid to die."

Yinsen paused, a condescending smirk planted on his face. "My, my, my. How interesting. Tony Stark admitting his fears." He cackled, a shrill pitch that sent shivers down Tony's spine. His face smoothed into a serious expression, the mask betraying nothing. "Tony Stark, time to die." And he threw the match.

The world went up into flame. Brilliant light sparkled off the armor, glinting along the cavern wall. The flames licked up his legs, lapping at his torso. It felt cool, though he knew it was due to nerve damage. It was blinding, but worst of all was the heat. It seared all along his body as he yelled out, screaming until his lungs filled with ash and then he was drowning. Blacking out, the last conscious thought was about the persistent tapping. If it wasn't from Yinsen, where was it coming from?

He jolted awake with a harsh gasp, scrambling to all fours and curling his body up as tight as it could, pressing against the headboard for safety. The knocking persisted, and for a moment of disorientation, Tony began to think it was due to Yinsen, standing outside his door. Unconsciously he rubbed his arms to soothe the burning sensation, to remind himself it was just a nightmare. Taking a few breaths he calmed his racing heart and stood up, slowly walking to the door. Not fully back in reality, just to double check his safety he asked, "JARVIS, um, who is knocking on my door at this hour?"
"Sir, it's currently 3:37 in the morning. Captain Rogers has been knocking for approximately five minutes. Shall I let him in?"

Tony immediately relaxed at the mention of Steve. Over the years they had overcome their differences, and though they still frequently argued (they both agreed that they were both too stubborn), they were quick to make up, and had since then become the best of friends. "Yeah J, let him in."
The door swung open, and there stood Steve… Looking just as bad as Tony felt and probably looked. His hair stood in sweaty spikes, styled due to him stressfully running his hands through it. His shirt was soaked with sweat, face and arms glistening. He was trembling on the spot, eyes red from rubbing, hallow and haunted with past memories. "Tony," He breathed out, "I… I… Oh, Tony." And he swept the smaller man up in a warm embrace.

Tony melted into the hug, holding on for dear life as tears silently fell down his cheeks. Thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the tower a bit, startling Steve who dropped Tony by accident. "Sorry Tony. I just needed to see you. I… I'll just get out of your hair now." He ran his hands through his messy hair nervously and turned, taking heavy steps towards the open doorway.

"Stay," Tony squeaked. "Please." It was quiet. Too quiet. Tony almost broke down.

Then Steve was turning, shuffling back to him. Tony crawled into his bed, made a face at the dampness, and promptly jumped out of it, reaching for new sheets. The blond appeared over his shoulder, grabbing some of the new bedding and helping Tony strip the bed and apply the new sheets. It was silent, but not oppressive. It was domestic, a lapsing silence that allowed both men to collect their thoughts and snap out of the haze of their nightmares. It was Steve who broke the lack of noise.

"Bad dream, Tony?" The brunette nodded. "Yeah, me too." It thundered again, paired with a hot flash of lightning and flinches from both Steve and Tony. "I was drowning. There was gunfire and screaming and I couldn't save anyone. I was trapped under water. And it was cold. All I could feel was ice, Tony, and then I woke up, thinking about seeing you, making sure you were safe. I'm sorry if I startled you."

"No," Tony croaked, voice hoarse and abused, "You didn't." The room lapsed into another silence.

"Oh, Tony," Steve sighed as he reached out to take Tony's hand. "Here, let me help." He led Tony into the washroom, sitting him down on the toilet lid as he soaked a washcloth in warm water. Steve turned from the sink, lightly wringing out the cloth before applying it to Tony's face, gently washing away the grime. Sweat, salt tracks, fresh tears, and drool were all washed away under Steve's gentle ministrations. He turned to leave the bathroom but the grip Tony had on his hand tightened and the brunette let out a tortured whimper. "Hey, hey, Tony. I'm not going to leave you. I promise. I'll be right back, I'm just grabbing some fresh clothes for us, okay? I promise that I won't leave you. I'd never leave you, okay Tony?" With that, Tony relaxed his grip, allowing Steve to slip out of his grasp and head back into the bedroom to gather clothes, being sure to keep the bathroom door open. With how many sleep overs, watching over injuries, and movies nights they had, it was natural for Steve to have some clothes in the drawers, so he grabbed out the softest pairs of pajamas for both him and Tony before heading back into the bathroom, spotting Tony right where he left him. He spoke softly, not wanting to spook him, "Hey Tony, we're going to take a quick shower, okay? I promise I won't take advantage of you, okay? I just want to clean us up and get us into clean clothing. Plus, a warm shower will relax you. Are you okay with this? I absolutely swear on my life that I would never do anything to hurt you, Tony. And I will never ever take advantage of you like this. I swear it."

Tony nodded, "Yeah, Cap, sounds good. And I know you wouldn't do anything of that sort to me. I trust you, Steve. You don't have to stress so much." With the new pinch in his brow and a small frown appearing on his golden face, Tony lightened his speech, "But thank you Steve, I really appreciate the sentiment."

"Okay, but you say the word and I'll stop." And with that he moved to turn the shower on. The heavy pounding of the water blocking out the thunderstorm. He stripped himself first, not wanting to scare Tony in his vulnerable state. Then, he moved towards the other man, who had begun shedding his clothing. Steve helped with the rest before half carrying him-half supporting him to the shower. He quickly soaped them both up, massaging Tony a bit before rinsing them off in the warm spray. After shutting the water stream off, he grabbed two fluffy towels, wrapping them up in the warmth before dressing Tony and then himself. During the toweling off, Tony spoke. A wow, Cap, if you wanted to see me naked so badly you could have just asked, making Steve laugh because with that joke came the knowledge that the genius was feeling much better.

Both warm and dry, they headed off to the clean bed, Steve tucking Tony in, smoothing back his damp hair before turning to leave.

"Mmm, whe'r d' y'u thin' you're goin'" Tony slurred, relaxed, sleepy, and all around content.

Steve looked abashed, a nice flush painting his cheeks a rosy pink. "I um, well, I thought you wanted to sleep."
"Stay."

And stay Steve did. Tentatively he climbed into the bed, cuddling Tony. "Is this okay?" he whispered.

"Cap, Steve, seriously. If it wasn't okay, I would let you know." Tony rolled his eyes.

Steve shifted closer, the creaking of the bed springs and the headboard making the whole scenario much more real to Tony. Strong arms banded around his torso, pulling the smaller man into the warm, firm chest of the blond. Tony shivered, though this time it wasn't because of the cold. As he was embraced by Steve, he stiffened, eyes widening and heart pounding, he slowly began to relax. Melting into the hold, the soothing warmth and the scent of Steve – not, like apple pie like as he had originally he suspected (yes, because if Steve was tall, muscular, blond and blue eyed, with a typical American name, whose birthday was the Fourth of July, and his codename was "Captain America", then it would be no surprise if Steve proved himself to be even more patriotic), but of a mix of earth, clover, something sweeter, and something that was just Steve. It screamed safety and love, and Tony knew that unless Steve moved, Tony was going to do everything to stay in his arms. Like a home, keeping out bad guys, Steve kept the nightmares at bay and Tony could feel himself being lulled back into the sweet embrace of the dreaming realm.

"Hey, do you want to talk about it?"

"I…" He hesitated, not eager to dive back into that can of worms, but couldn't seem to stop the words. "It was Yinsen. He kept speaking 'bout how worthless I was, that I didn't deserve anything, not even happiness. About how I let him die and that he should have been the one to live since he had a family and I was just fooling around, partying, throwing out my money. And I believed him. He reminded me about all my failures, about the millions I have killed, about how he had a family, I took their father and husband away from them. Because I'm selfish. And I told him about how I'm afraid to die, and how I deserved to…" He trailed off as the tears began to flow down his face. He took a deep breath, counting the steady drips of the tears hit the pillow. "And then there were flames. I couldn't move, Steve." He took big gulps of air, extremely close to losing it. "I had to stand there and take it. The stinging words, the burning flame. And I knew I deserved it. But it scared me so much." He turned to Steve, "I was so scared." And he broke. Crying steadily, he ducked his head. Steve allowed him a few seconds before he gently grabbed his chin, tilting it to face himself again. Tony laughed in a condescending manor. "God, I'm pathetic." He sniffled, blinking the tears from his eyes. "Stark men don't cry."

A quiet 'hey' caught his attention. He turned his head, tilting it to view Steve's profile. Goodness, the jaw on that man! But really, Tony thought, this man is absolutely beautiful. Sure, on the outside he is drop-dead gorgeous. With golden hair catching the light in marvelous ways, or his chiseled abs, or, Tony's favorite physical feature, Steve's eyes. It really is true. Steve's eyes, ocean blue, lightening and darkening with emotion, were really the windows to his soul. Wow, maybe I should become a poet with all of that waxing. And Tony loved him for that. But for all his looks, it was his personality that had hooked Tony in. He was just so caring, loving and passionate about what he believed in. He had a strong moral compass, not afraid to speak up about what was bothering him, unable to be swayed into a more corrupt, less ethical perspective. And he listened to what everyone had to say, always having a solution to keep everyone happy. Oh, boy, Tony was screwed. And that wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. He could go on for days about Steve's exceptional leadership skills, massive heart, courage, skill, everything. And, he wasn't afraid to speak up and stand up for others. But for some reason that he couldn't understand, Steve had picked Tony to be his best friend. And with all his flaws and douchebaggery behavior, plus with his embarrassing past full of drugs, alcohol, and women, he didn't understand how Steve accepted him. But he never complained.

"Tony?" Steve was looking down at him with heavy concern weighing at his eyes, drooping his mouth into a frown. He was sort of curled into himself, with a light flush dusting his cheeks. Tony would have called him adorable had it not been for the fact that Steve was looking mighty uncomfortable.

"What's up, Capsicle?"

"Sorry, I was just wondering if you were listening to me. I just want to say that you're my best friend. You know that, right?"

"Sure, Cap, you're my best friend too. I thought you knew that."

Steve let out a loud sigh of relief, body stretching out once more. "So you trust me, right?"

"Of course, Steve, why wouldn't I?" Tony asked, concerned. He patted Steve's arm as a sign of reassurance.

"Okay, then you would believe me, right?"
"Steve, you're beginning to freak me out here, buddy. Of course I believe you. I will always trust and believe you. Remember when my armor was destroyed in that battle a few months ago and I was stranded on a building? And you told me to jump, that you would catch me? Without hesitation I complied. Steve, if I didn't fully trust and believe in you, I would have never done that for you, okay? Please, I didn't know you thought I didn't fully trust you. You trust me, right?" There was a sharp pang in his heart, a feeling of sorrow ran it's way through his body adding to his list of insecurities. Steve didn't think very highly of Tony if he didn't have confidence in him.

"Of course, Tony, with all of my heart." And if that didn't make Tony shiver, well then he was totally lying. "I do believe you, Tony, and I trust you with every fibre of my being. With every cell in my body. I just want you to know that everything that I say is true. I don't say what I don't mean, okay?"
Tony relaxed a bit, less unnerved. "Of course, buddy."
"You deserve so much. I can't even put it into words. Tony, don't even say to me that you don't deserve to live, okay? And don't even say anything!" He scolded Tony as he opened his mouth to parry what Steve was saying.

"But Steve, you and I both know that that isn't true."
"Tony, you just agreed to both trusting me and knowing that I don't lie. Please, take the complements. No. They're not even complements. Complements are like 'hey, I love your shirt', whereas what I'm telling you, Tony, is the truth. The whole truth, nothing but the truth."

"So help me God?" He quipped, "I swear, any time I think you couldn't possibly become any more patriotic. Sorry, Cap, but you left that door wide open."

"Tony." Steve's eyes, his wonderful eyes, morphed into a deep marine blue, hardening with frustration. "Stop. Deflecting." He gritted out.

And things became serious.

"But I can't take those, Steve," He began. "If I don't deflect them, then what can I do?"

"Take them, Tony, that's what we do."

"I don't need your pity comments, Steve." Tony's voice hardened like steel; cool, sharp.

Undeterred, Steve pressed on. With a heavy huff that jostled Tony, he stilled, collecting his thoughts. "What about the trust, Tony, or about how what I say, I mean, hmmm? Those aren't pity complements, Tony. Far from it, in fact."

"But as a Stark…" He trailed off. "The Starks don't show weakness. Weakness causes gaps that can be exploited."

"But Tony, as a team we are stronger together than apart. Can't you see that?"

Tony looked up into the blue of Steve's eyes. Watery eyes just barely not leaking, barely containing the raw emotion causing turmoil deep in his soul. "Steve, I don't want to talk about this right now. Please." He mumbled, starting to turn away, "'M tired. Wanna sleep."

Heavily sighing, Steve submitted, the soldier in him although screaming to keep fighting understood that the battle was lost. However, though Tony may have not realized it yet, the war was not over.

The two men turned away from each other, silently licking their wounds, but as soon as Steve's enhanced hearing picked up the sound of stifled breathing and heavy teardrops hitting the silk pillowcases he turned towards the smaller man, wrapping a solid warm arm around his waist and tugging him into the warm and comforting haven that was Steve. And with one final contented sigh from the brunet, he was out like a light, Steve following suit shortly after. A mantra of I love you's and I'll never give up on you's running though his mind.