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scrthaddct-blog · 5 years

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I’ve struggled with an addiction to opiates for most of this decade, and before I swallowed that fateful Percocet I was an alcoholic. This blog will not celebrate or glorify the addict lifestyle. I am not proud of the fact that I am hiding my addiction, but I am not currently ready to either come clean or get clean. My goal is total abstinence from drugs and alcohol. Quitting drinking was fairly easy, but quitting heroin has been quite the opposite. A big reason I am in this mess is because I didn’t take my habit seriously enough at the beginning. I have gone to meetings and will continue to go to meetings but I have not found them helpful (I’ll get specific about this in future posts). I am constantly worried and frightened. I am always broke and my partner is getting sick of my increasingly desperate excuses. I want to quit but I don’t want to quit.

I am currently in a methadone program but I still use heroin anytime I have money to pay for it, which is most days. I’m a fairly typical case. I hit the pharmacy on my way to work, get through the day, and then start the search for drugs after work. I have two different dealers on opposite sides of town, and they don’t deliver. (Heroin dealers almost never deliver. Most of them are hooked on their own product and therefore try to avoid exertion because it kills the opiate high.) One dealer is thirty minutes from my house by transit, the other is forty-five. This may not sound like much but it is. Taking into account the amount of time they make me wait outside their respective buildings (one often forgets I’m waiting there and nods off, which is fucking MADDENING, especially in my pre-methadone days as I’d be dopesick). I live within walking distance of my workplace, so it makes no difference where I start from. Best case scenario, it takes an hour round trip. Worst case, 2.5 hours. Both scenarios are rare, as I spend an average of 80 minutes every day en route to buy heroin. (As for the obvious question of why I don’t just stock up or buy bulk, it’s because I’m always quitting tomorrow. Always.) I spend a minimum of $20 for a point (that 0.01 grams), but that too is a rare occurence. I am usually able to scrounge up $30 for a point and a half. For my east side guy, I try to show up as late as possible because he gets progessively higher as the day passes, and when he’s high he often can’t be bothered to open up a flap and tosses me 2 for the price of 1.5.

I’m sure the more financially prudent of you are astounded, thinking to yourselves “HOW THE FUCK CAN THIS GUY AFFORD TO SPEND $30 EVERY SINGLE DAY?” That’s a fair question. The answer is...

I can’t. I can’t afford $30 a day. I couldn’t even afford $20 a day. Back when I tried Suboxone for 3 months, a maintenance drug my insurance wouldn’t cover, I was barely able to find the $11 it cost each day.

I cannot afford my addiction, so I have to do things I never thought I’d do, things I can’t describe here. I’m sure you can imagine. Things aren’t as bad as they were a few years ago, but I still feel like I’m not in control. It’s unbelievable, the way my mind goes blank en route to my dealer. It goes blank so I don’t change my mind. I am forcing myself not to think about the things I want to think about, like maybe finding a 12-step group instead, or just going home to watch a movie. Every day, unless I’ve truly exhausted all options and have no money, I go somewhere to buy drugs.

Lately I actually have been using less, but only because I haven’t had the money, not because I am getting help or altering my habits. For the last 2 or 3 months the cycle goes like this: Every other Friday is payday. My paycheques aren’t consistent but I usually receive between $1100 and $1300. Peanuts, I know. The money is deposited into my account at five in the morning, but I am awake, manically refreshing my browser on my phone while walking to the nearest ATM. The instant the money comes in I withdraw my daily maximum of $500 and make a hopeful call to each of my dealers.

This call is a Hail Mary. Coke dealers might stay up all night, for obvious reasons, but people who peddle dope are safe and secure in their beds, snoring softly or jerking awake with a gasp because heroin causes sleep apnea. I continue to call both numbers until one of them picks up and tells me to come by. I use over the weekend while spending time with my partner. I am in a terrific mood the entire time. I am usually running low by Sunday afternoon so I re-up later that night. By either Tuesday or Wednesday the drugs are gone and I am broke. I mean completely broke. I spend every cent I can on drugs. And I say drugs because I often grab a gram or two of coke. It’s never been my drug of choice, but most heroin users start doing coke around the two year mark because we don’t really get high anymore - we just feel normal - and the coke gives the heroin a sharp glimmer. Also, heroin is stronger than it was even 2 years ago, and I get tired and coke helps. I like to be awake to enjoy my heroin. (PS: ALL heroin has fent in it nowadays. Unless you’re a filthy rich lawyer spending enough cash to get a direct source, which would be 100k a year, you are doing fent every time you use heroin.)

Where was I? Right! The cycle of addiction that is holding me captive and ruining my life.

This Tuesday or Wednesday is always pretty rough. I don’t get dopesick, thanks to my trusty methadone, but the physical symptoms have never been the bane. It’s the mental stuff. It is indescribable. I’ll try anyway but I’ll miss. The only point I hope you take away is that this depression, or despair, or black hole, goes way beyond the personal. It’s not “I am sad. Poor me.” It’s...wider than that. Denser. It is inescapable. My thoughts seem to think themselves, without my consent. They don’t arrive in full sentences, or even words, but blood-deep feelings, forbodings, certainties that nothing is worth getting out of bed for, that you will never feel joy, or even a gust of mild pleasantry, that you are a fucking asshole junkie loser and even if you could get sober, which you won’t, there would be no point because the world is a sick machine bleeding a massive shit...etc etc etc. I quoted Green Day somewhere in that run-on sentence. Bonus points for finding it without Google or any other internetz.

Anyway, I call the first day back after a binge Day One, for a few reasons. One, because what else would I call it? Two, it’s the name of a really pretty song by a band called Kyuss. And three, it’s kinda funny because it’s one of Amazon’s core values, repeated over and over by the Amazon army, those poor souls who work there for fractions of what their selfish psychotic CEO hoards.

Day One. More often that not I make it through, and the second is always easier. But sometimes I do stupid shit. My lone suicide attempt was on a particularly desolate Day One. I woke up in my own vomit and took a shower. Then I called my dealer because I’d consumed all my heroin with my Death Dose.

So that’s a summary of where I’m at these days. Trying to get through. Tomorrow is another Day One so wish me luck. I’ll need it.

#heroin #harmreduction #sober #abstinence #scrthaddct

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llexeh · 6 years

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Santa Baby (2-2) - Steve Rogers / Tony Stark

Part 2-2 of “Steve Is Going to Lose His Damn Mind”

Summary: All Steve wanted was to make some nice memories with his new family. You know, get a tree up, have a nice dinner, sing some carols. So what if he got a bit overenthusiastic? He absolutely did not want to google Tinder, or be struck by how attractive Tony Stark was. Again.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, ridiculousness, sad handjob, mild angst

Potential trigger: Brief scene that can be construed as self harm on Steve's end. Just for full disclosure purposes, he uses scalding water knowing it would heal almost instantly. This is not done in a fit, or with the self harm end goal in mind. But I know first hand it can be triggering so I thought it would be worth mentioning. (Stay safe x)

Rating: mature

Pairings: Steve Rogers / Tony Stark, Darcy Lewis / Bruce Banner

Tags: pre-slash, crack treated seriously, slowburn, everyone is alive, Christmas fluff, group chat trope, auto correct trope

Word count: 5592

Pietro was allowed around the tower on the 24th. They’d visited him and decorated his hospital bed and even put a nice wreath on the door. Wanda tied bows on it, and Darcy covered it in glitter and silver beads. They took to singing loudly whenever Pietro’s whining got too much, which was roughly eight times a day that they knew of. Bruce kept feeding him sweets to quiet him, and Clint smuggled pizza in one night.

When he was finally allowed to leave the room, his anticipation was palpable. He literally shook with excitement, although if it was for the holiday or for being anywhere else, Steve didn’t know.

He shrieked when he saw the tree, trying to make his wheelchair go faster. “It’s so great,” he said in awe. He turned to Wanda, then to all his teammates gathered around it. “It’s been -”

“Yeah,” she said and ruffled his hair. “Come on, we saved the star for you.”

Pietro’s eyes widened. “Really?” he asked Steve, who was always the man he turned to for confirmation and orders.

“Really,” Steve replied and handed him a large silver star. “Darcy and Clint insisted that we put the A on it,” he said and pointed to the cardboard letter that was glued to the glass ornament.

Pepper pushed Tony in, throwing a sweater at him. She put the large box she was carrying on the floor and joined them. “Hello Pietro, are you excited?” she asked, a beaming smile on her face.

“Yes!” Pietro said and turned to Wanda. The girl gently lifted him up to the top of the tree. He slid the upright branch into the ornament and clapped loudly. The A was truly ugly. Steve loved it more than anything. Wanda lowered Pietro to be at their level.

“Do it, Tony,” Pepper ordered. “Remember I have blackmail material and I am not above using it to make you do things for me,” she said, her voice getting that singing lilt again.

“You used to be such a nice girl, Pepper,” Tony said, sliding the sweater over his head. He emerged with crazy hair and a scowl. When he rolled it down his torso, the knitted Grinch on it was his spitting image. “What happened?”

“I started working for you,” she replied and pushed the box towards them. “Come on, grab a sweater, put it on, stand around the tree. Someone help Pietro, please,” she instructed quickly. “We need a photo of the official team - Rhodey go next to Tony, maybe some of your maturity will rub off on him. Photo for the auction first, and then we can take some for us.”

She arranged them and fixed the camera on the tripod. “Okay, on three say ‘Avengers’! And because that doesn’t work, also smile. One, two…” The shutter went on a couple of times. Pepper went through the photos she took and consulted Darcy. “Okay we got it! Now for the other ones.” She urged them all to gather up once more for their personal photos before setting the timer. “Go crazy, guys, it’s our first Christmas together.”

Steve could have kissed her.

They had to take a vote on when to open presents. Some of them advocated for Christmas Day, others for the Eve. Once they started on the eggnog, the vote swayed towards the Eve, and in the end it was settled for midnight.

Steve had been prepping for the dinner for days. He had a lot of help from Darcy and Clint and even Vision, and it was a labour of love but he was extremely ready to not cook for a while. He was also nervous about the food; he tried cooking people’s favourites, and foods that were traditional to where they were from. Some ingredients were impossible to get, and he improvised the best he could. When they sat down to eat, Steve was so tense he could barely touch anything. It was a litany of appreciative noises from around the table, and Steve felt his shoulders relax slightly.

“Kholodets!” Natasha exclaimed as she lifted a lid. “Steve, kholodets!” She turned to look at him and leaned over the table to kiss his forehead. Pietro joined her in wondering at the traditional Russian dish while Wanda mouthed her thanks.

“We normally celebrate on the 7th of January,” Wanda said casually.

Steve stopped eating. “Why didn’t you say something? It’s not fair to -”

“Hey,” she interrupted him, “Christmas on the 25th is better than no Christmas. Pietro and I, our parents weren’t religious and back there it was religious for a lot of people. So it’s the thought, the family,” she told him, trying to keep the conversation private. It didn’t work at all, of course.

Natasha smiled. “I remember when Christmas didn’t exist. They moved it to the 1st of January. In the… in the Red Room we knew there was a celebration on the 7th and we knew what it was, but we were never allowed. It was just another day.”

Bruce coughed once to draw attention to him and immediately regretted based on his lost look. Darcy touched his hand and smiled. “My aunt gets drunk every year and slaps the turkey,” she offered with a shrug.

Natasha snorted and turned to look at the large bird on the table. “Do you take after her side of the family?”

Darcy grinned and fluttered her lashes. “I guess we’ll find out,” she said and winked at the turkey.

Clint shoved pigs in blankets in his mouth, throwing Steve a thumbs up and an enthusiastic nod. Bucky thanked him for making the roast potatoes the way his mother used to. Steve smiled widely and pointed towards the turkey. “Not that slapping it wouldn’t be amazing to watch,” he rolled his eyes, “but who wants to carve it?”

They looked at each other, trying to figure out what he meant. Tony was surprisingly the one to answer, not even lifting his head from his potato salad. “You, of course. And hurry up, I want to get to that crisp skin sooner rather than later.” When no one said anything, he looked up. “What?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s your tower, Tony. Maybe you should do it?”

Tony made a show of leaning back and rolling his eyes because he was the biggest drama queen, no matter how many tantrums Steve threw. “This is your tower as well. You all have rooms and little nooks of happiness and the building is actually in all of our names.” He sipped his mulled wine. “What?” he asked again in that impatient voice.

“Tony did you forget to tell them?” Pepper’s voice taking a slight shrill quality. “Tony, I sent you thirteen god damned emails and got Friday to sing to you. What did you do, sleep through all of it?” Tony stayed quiet, looking anywhere but ahead of him, where Pepper’s hand shot up to rest on her hip. “You’re an idiot,” she announced and kicked his shin under the table.

“I was working on a space suit and then I passed out and when I woke up Mr Fantastic was calling me and I just flew out to beat the crap out of a Doombot and to avoid Reed’s annoying voice. And I guess I forgot,” he finished lamely.

“Tony.” Steve’s voice was serious, he knew, but there was no accusation behind it. Tony forgot to eat and sleep and sit down, this was not new.

“When we rebuilt this,” he gestured around him, “I put it down with the Avengers as the owners. Then I kept adding people to the list of what the Avengers mean. It’s not a big deal, your name on the papers or not this is your home.” He pushed the turkey symbolically. The bird was huge. “Now carve it and feed us, Captain… Captain? I’ll have to think about it,” he told Steve, and that was the end of it.

On his part, Steve did his best to carve it as neatly as possible. It wasn’t like he had a lot of experience, or any really. Steve didn’t know a lot about a great deal of things. So he stood and tried to remember any circumstance in his life where carving a turkey had been a thing. If he’d known this was going to happen, he would have allocated three minutes to a youtube tutorial, risking the merciless teasing from Tony. In all fairness the scientist had been good with mocking Steve about his searches, but there was a knowing look. Maybe Steve was also paranoid on top of everything else he was discovering about himself.

He picked up the fork, feeling very self conscious about how slow he perceived his movement. Maybe they had drunk enough not to notice the slight tremor in his fingers. Steve bashed people’s heads in with his shield. This was ridiculous. He went for one of the legs, trying to position the knife as well as possible. The small shriek when a manicured hand shot out and slapped the turkey’s breast absolutely did not happen. Steve would go to his grave claiming that. Darcy howled with laughter at his little jump, and the others were in various degrees of hysterics. Steve hated all of them. He cut through the crispy skin with a scowl on his face. This was ridiculous. Again. He pushed the leg down with the fork, then cut straight through the ball joint.

The drumstick went on a plate, and it was out of Steve’s hands how they were all going to fight over who wants what. He kept going, piling up slices of almost-evenly-carved meat on a large platter. He was about to sit back down when he remembered. He picked the fork up again and poked through the skin on the remaining breast, then pulled slightly.

“Plate,” he said quietly to Tony, whose head snapped up looking around frantically.

“Don’t let them see us,” he whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear him.

“Stark give me the damn plate before I eat all the skin off this bird in front of you and make you watch,” Steve said in a normal voice.

“Promise? I love watching,” came the reply and Steve was about half a wrong breath away from smacking Tony’s hands with the carving fork.

“I’ll make sure to put on a show,” he said sitting down, trying hard for unimpressed and annoyed. That should definitely be the title of his autobiography if he ever decided to write it. Actually, a couple more words: frozen, frustrated, confused - the usual.

Dinner was a success as far as Steve was concerned. The teasing was familiar, and they shared stories of the few happy things they could remember about Christmas. When the conversation turned darker, Vision starting blasting “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and then awkwardly singing along. They tried to keep Steve from helping with clearing the table, but he still managed to sneak past them and start loading the dishwasher.

There was a sharp poke between his shoulderblades just as he was bending to rearrange some plates. It didn’t hurt, but it was uncomfortable enough to make him turn and look up.

“Come on, you can do dishes tomorrow as well,” Tony said and started pulling at his shoulder and then tried to push him towards the door. “There are about eighteen mugs in my lab and at least six bowls you can wash if you feel like it. Tomorrow,” he added, and tried moving Steve again.

“Just go sort out the drinks, I’ll be done here in a minute,” he tried for reason.

“No more doing things around the house tonight, you’re too big to be a house elf. And they’re not as cute. Now move,” he kept prodding at his chest, pulling at his arms, and even yanked his hair a little.

“Harry Potter, right?” Steve checked.

“Yes, yes, now come along.” When there was no sign of success Tony sighed, cocked his head, tutted, sighed again, and lightly backhanded Steve’s shoulder in the quickest succession Steve had seen. “Wanda!”

“Told you,” came her voice, and Steve found himself being floated away from the almost loaded dishwasher. He scowled and waited for it to be over.

“Why do you have to be so stubborn? Literally one more minute, Stark.”

“Yeah, yeah, and then you’d have wanted to scrub the oven, and polish the silverware, and knit some warm tiny socks for homeless kittens, and we’d have been here all night waiting for you. Now sit down,” he said just as Wanda lowered him on the sofa, between Bucky and Pepper.

Getting presents was always an uncomfortable experience for Steve. After his mother died, Bucky was the only one who got him anything, and even that was cut short when he left. So Steve was awkward and a bit uncertain what to do with his hands. He tried to be as normal as possible when he unwrapped them, and he was grateful at everyone’s enthusiasm for not noticing the slight shaking of his fingers. He was amazed at how much thought they’d all put into what they got him. Steve received a new sketchbook, all the Star Wars movies, new pencils and -

“T-shirts that fit. Yeah, that’s right, no more gallivanting around the tower looking like your arms are being strangled,” Sam said with a smirk.

“What is wrong with you?” and “Are you actually insane Wilson?” and “What’s next, getting him in a bin bag?” and “Pepper, now! Take them away now when he’s not looking!” and Steve was honestly baffled.

“What are you talking about?” he asked looking around the room.

Natasha patted his head gently. “You don’t worry about this now,” she told him slowly.

“Nat…”

“Oh, it’s about your clothes.” He shook his head. “You know, the two sizes too small, match the sky blue colour of your eyes… the usual.”

“What?”

“Some of us have an appreciation for nice things in life,” Pepper offered. “Like how your back looks in blue t-shirts that are two sizes too small. And Sam Wilson The Traitor,” she added casually, “wants to take that away from us.”

“Pepper, I don’t -” Steve tried, but got interrupted again.

“Pepper, just take the damn things away and we’re all going to be okay!” Tony shouted and Steve reacted by holding his new clothes tighter.

“I think I’ll keep them,” he told them with a smile. “I wouldn’t want Sam to be offended.”

“You ruined Christmas,” Darcy shouted and then turned to Bruce. “You know I don’t -”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” he said, and kissed her temple.

If Steve was more conceited, he could have sworn Bruce said “I know he’s hot”, but he refused to accept it. He urged them all to keep shredding wrapping paper and they mercifully agreed. He caught Tony’s eye for a second and was left confused about what the scowl on his teammate’s face meant. There was a distinct annoyance in the way Tony stared at the t-shirts. Steve moved on to unwrap a cologne from Natasha and a foldable easel that had his initials brutally carved on the side. He could recognise Bucky’s ugly handwriting everywhere.

“What did you use, a butter knife?” he asked.

“My teeth,” came the quick reply and Steve burst into laughter.

Clint’s new controller set was a great hit with him, and Bucky caught the one the marksman threw at him. They settled on the floor quickly and immersed themselves into their usual friendly competition that involved about twenty swear words per minute. Natasha kissed his cheek softly for her new necklace, and Darcy threw herself at him in “eternal gratitude” for her new taser.

“Tony can add to it, I’m sure,” he told her as she hugged him repeatedly.

“We can probably put a small arc reactor in it, maybe even make it sing,” Tony confirmed. “Come to my lab some time, we’ll talk,” he said and nodded at Steve. “Thanks for my mug, Darce,” he added, using both hands to hold on to the huge mug. It had bad drawings of the Avengers and it was absolutely glorious.

Pepper thanked him for the leather journal, and Bruce thanked him for his new fountain pen. Steve decided again he loved giving presents because it was never about him. He accepted the hot chocolate with a nod, and settled to watch his family rejoice in their gifts.

As a general rule, Steve could go with almost no sleep at all. Sure, he felt tired, but it wasn’t a tragedy. He tried to keep a balanced life, tried to sleep enough and eat right, and exercise - all of which Bucky called overkill, and used to mock him endlessly. Steve remembered what it was like to feel like no air would ever enter his lungs again, or how it felt to not be able to jog for ten feet. So Steve was grateful, and honestly? he actually liked salads and working out. Bucky mocked him for that too, saying that it was natural he liked it when he already had the body for it. Steve punched him then, and all was good in the world again.

Steve spent hours watching the ceiling after their casual party finally broke up around two in the morning. He got up and tried drawing, but his hands didn’t cooperate - it seemed a common thing these days. He tried reading the new book he got, but he couldn’t focus. He tried doing crosswords, but his mind was loud and eventually he gave up and waited. He could normally fall asleep as soon as he wanted, courtesy of years having to do it in various army settings, but it seemed not even that worked right. Steve was a downright mess.

He kept hearing Tony’s harsh words, then Tony’s protests towards the t-shirts that fit better, then what he thought was some sort of friendly flirting, and it took forever for him to actually manage to sleep. When the knock came on his door, Steve felt like it was too soon, and grunted his dismissal. Much later, when he finally got up and showered, his head hurt in a way it only did when there was a physical injury. He wondered if it was actually a memory of the headaches he used to get before the serum. It was close to noon when he emerged from his room, and his stupid fast metabolism reminded him that it needed food and it needed it soon.

It was one of those split second things when he saw the red and gold wrapping paper. He had actually shut his door when the thought sunk in, and walked back in to investigate. The second he realised what he was looking at he could have punched himself in the face. The present for Tony, the one he spent ages on was sitting on his desk patiently. Steve was an idiot.

He picked it up and hurried to the living room. As soon as he walked in, hair sticking out from running his hands through it, present perched on his hip, and eyes looking around wildly, Steve felt it. The same train from last time, with the same precise speed and the same merciless power. Steve felt like someone stabbed him in the kidneys. The force of his recurring epiphany was enough to make him stop abruptly and any words he might have thought of saying died in his constricted throat.

Tony was on the floor, wearing a Christmas hat and his Christmas sweater, surrounded by children who rallied around him. There was a little girl on one of his knees, and a little boy on the other. They both kept touching his beard and his face, as if to make sure he was real. Steve had a very distinct urge to do the same. Behind him, the tree was revolving slowly, and Steve checked around the room for Wanda. There was no one else there except for Tony and the children. Wouldn’t that be a great band name? Even a great superhero team name.

Outside, the snow had some fairy tale qualities to it, falling down peacefully with large snowflakes that were sure to stick to everything. Steve wasn’t fond of the snow or the ice, or even the cold really, but it bathed the room (and subsequently Tony) in some dreamy-fairy-crap light and Steve found that he could start liking it.

“Look kids, it’s Captain America! In his glorious tracksuit bottoms and mercifully tight t-shirt, and sans shield but with a present inste - Steve that won’t help in battle,” he said, tickling the two kids on his lap slightly.

Steve was in love. This was it.

Some of the kids looked up and their eyes widened dramatically before they ran up to him. They all stopped just shy of jumping up into his arms, and turned back to look at Tony. “Go on, he’s not gonna get mad at you! Are you kidding me, this is Captain America! You could shoot at him and he’d still hug you!”

Steve would have denied it, but he knew it was true. He put the gift down and squatted to be closer to their heights. “Hi, I’m Steve.” he offered simply.

The kids smiled and started shouting their names at him. He shook every single one of their little hands and accepted that Ben, who was almost five, wanted to hug him. He picked up the kid and walked back to sit down opposite to Tony.

“Did you know our tree’s called Ben?” Steve asked the little boy who shook his head from his hiding place in Steve’s neck.

“It is?” Tony asked.

“Oh, yes,” Steve said and patted Ben’s head slowly. “Darcy named it when she was riding around it on her mighty steed.”

“There was a horse in here?” Tony asked, his tone even more perplexed.

“Not a horse, Tony, a mighty steed!” he emphasised. “How about you bring the box of decorations over here,” he asked the kids, “and I can get you up on my shoulders so you put them in the tree?”

Ben leaned back and looked at Steve. “Is that okay?”

“Of course! Go on, we’ll be here.” As soon as the kids were half into the box, Steve turned to Tony. “Did you seriously think there would have been a horse in the tower?”

Tony shrugged. “There’s a Norse god, The Hulk, and two enhanced kids who can kick as - butt! I said butt, Steve!” Tony yelped at the kick in the shin.

“Tony said butt!” one of the kids yelled and Steve loved the blush spreading on the scientist’s cheeks more than anything in the world.

“Would it be hard to believe there was a horse? Our washing machines sing ‘Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?’ when we put them on,” he whispered.

“When was the last time you touched the washing machines? Actually when was the first?” Steve whispered-shouted back.

“When I made them sing!” Tony said and burst into laughter.

Steve was gone. This was it, he was gone. Good bye forever. Tony’s eyes crinkled and it physically hurt Steve because he just wanted to hold the man. He wanted to hold the man and sit on the floor and look at the stupid revolving tree -

“Tony why is the tree moving?”

“Ah, well. You see. There was a sort of. You know, I don’t actually know why. Maybe it’s some Christmas miracle -”

“Tony.”

“I just fiddled with this scrap metal I had in the lab, put an engine on it, it’s no big deal,” he finally replied, looking around the room to avoid Steve’s face.

“When did you even have time to do it?”

“Well, last night when I didn’t sleep?”

Steve didn’t know how it happened, but he just found himself blurting, “I forgot to give you your present!”

Tony nodded, then shrugged. “It’s okay, I just figured you didn’t get me anything.”

Steve spluttered. “How? I got everyone something.”

“Sometimes you don’t like me much, and I don’t blame you, it’s not a big deal.”

Steve honestly, honest to god, as honest as he could possible be, felt like crying. He also felt like kissing Tony, and punching him a little, and hugging him, and kissing the stupid lines in the corners of his eyes, and run his hands through his hair, and Steve needed to get a fucking grasp on reality sooner rather than later.

“That’s bullshit,” he whispered, wary of the kids hearing him.

Tony gasped and clutched at his chest. “Captain! America! How could you? Kids, Steve says we should all sing some carols while he picks you up and you can ride him like a horse - AH I see!”

“Told you. And I’m a steed.”

Marie had a lisp so when she said “steed” repeatedly while perched on Steve’s shoulders, he struggled not to laugh and shake her even harder. Tony started singing ‘Santa Baby’ before it dawned on him that it was not exactly appropriate or a carol, and moved on to ‘Deck the Halls.’

All the Avengers came in to say hi, shepherded by Pepper who brought them cookies and hot chocolate. Jane was a hit with a couple of little girls who wanted to be scientists, and Natasha showed some of them how to get out of a hold before she was rushed away. “I’ll be good,” she shouted, “just let me tell them what not to do when they’re attacked from the side.”

Vision let all the kids touch him, and giggled when tiny fingers poked at the Mind Stone. “I don’t think it likes the tickling,” he said trying to stifle his laughter. The kids were fascinated by Bucky’s arm, even though he wore a long sleeved top to try and hide it. They lifted the sleeve and started counting the segments, asking what it could do and if they could draw on it. When Bucky informed them crayons wouldn’t show, he offered the alternative of paper and his company. They readily agreed.

Steve found Tony sitting on the kitchen counter by the fridge. He was waiting for the coffee to be ready, idly rearranging magnets. “You okay?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, just a bit tired. I’ll be back to belting out Rudolph’s name in a minute.”

“Please don’t,” Steve said with a smile. “I don’t think the serum was meant to protect me from such things.”

Tony smiled back and it warmed Steve’s heart. “Is that for me?”

Steve nodded and handed him the box. “I don’t know how I missed it, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, how dare you not reciprocate my thoughtful gift of an improvement on the shield that isn’t ready because I didn’t get round to manage to steal it from you and now it’s too late cause you already know so can you bring it downstairs soon?”

Steve huffed, trying not to get closer to him. He was leaning on the kitchen island, safe from giving in to his now constant wish of touching the man in any way he could. “I thought you gave me the Star Wars boxset?”

“And the Avengers figurine collection,” Tony added patiently.

“The shield’s fine as it is, don’t worry about it. We had a spending limit anyway!”

“Steve, I’m Tony Stark, I’ve never had a spending limit,” he said and sipped his freshly poured coffee. “Now hand it over and let me see.”

Steve fiddled with it. “It’s really not that great,” he told him. He really wished he’d remembered to give Tony the present the day before so he could have opened it then and it wouldn’t have been that big of a deal.

“Shhh, hand it over, there you go, that’s a good Captain, okay now let go, okay? Okay, great, now step back a little? Perfect, thank you.”

Steve was more nervous than before battle. Battles were routine, he trained for battles. They ran scenarios, sparred, tried to plan for unpredicted, and Steve was a soldier so battles gave him a rush of sorts. But this was new and horrible and Steve really wanted his shield.

“I’m gonna go back to -”

It wasn’t like Tony said anything, but he was halfway through unwrapping the box - and this time he didn’t just tear at it like a savage. Steve wanted to go, maybe even to get the shield and bring it back, and he was sure there was something to do with the kids, but Tony took the lid off and gasped and Steve was rooted to the marble tiles he was standing on.

It took weeks to be able to put together the photo album that Tony was currently caressing, apparently afraid of opening. Steve had talked to Peggy and Peggy had directed him to some other old SHIELD members, who then pointed out archives for him. Then he had to physically spend time sifting through papers and reports, then to make more phone calls and pull rank in order to get copies of the photos. A couple he actually stole because there was a limit to his patience, and rude people were not a helping factor.

The pages were filled with black and white photos of young Maria and Howard, of baby Tony, of Jarvis holding Tony, of Peggy cuddling him on the floor, of a toddler Tony sleeping with a toy Captain America shield. There were photos of Howard trying to calm Tony down as he was holding a meeting with what looked like officials. It spread out over years, and Steve had to persuade Vision to put in a good word with Friday to get some photos of teen Tony, and he was now torn between regretting everything and moving to the depths of the Arctic Ocean, and kissing the man’s watery eyes.

“How?”

“Called in some favours, talked to Peggy, the usual. Is it okay? I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped the line or -”

Tony hopped off the counter and took the few steps to where Steve was standing. “No no don’t. I mean I could have lived three content lifetimes without you ever seeing that photo of me and the toy shield. Or the one where I’m drooling on Peggy’s shirt - that’s not even really cute and I’m pretty sure I don’t do that anymore, I don’t actually know, there was no one to comment on it so I don’t -”

“Tony.”

“It’s perfect,” he said quietly, “thank you so much.” He placed it next to Steve and slowly lifted his arms to envelop Steve in a hug. On his part, Steve was still, letting Tony do his thing at his own pace. Once he was sure the man settled, he hugged him back; they stayed like that for a few moments.

“Tony, why are there children in our living room?”

The man burst into laughter, shaking both of them as he pulled back. He went to wipe the dampness under his eyes that were not fully formed tears, but Steve knew. “You played with all of them for hours before asking, really?”

“I don’t mind!” Steve said defensively. “I love spending time with them, I was just curious.”

“I just forget how accepting you are of things,” Tony offered as a very subtle apology in case he offended Steve. “Pepper looks after them through the foundation. They’ve either been abandoned or orphaned. A couple of them… their parents were killed in action. She called this morning and asked if she could bring them over. Their caretakers were delighted with the idea and I said yes because Christmas is hard.”

Steve wanted to hug Tony again, but there was a time and a place and probably a limit on how many times they could do that. If Steve had his way he would hug Tony at the smallest of prompts. Oh, Tony woke up? Better hug him. Oh, Tony walked? Better hug him. Now there was a precedent - Steve thought fleetingly there were quite a few of those happening recently - and Steve knew how it felt. Things were not going to get any easier.

“I know you’re not a fan. I really wanted us to have a kind-of-family thing just to make some nice memories, you know?” Tony nodded. “Thanks for making the tree spin, Clint is ecstatic.”

“Thanks for making the tree happen,” Tony countered and they left it at that.

The silence was oddly not uncomfortable. Steve ended up getting coffee for himself and Tony would occasionally open the album at a random page and smile. It was a good feeling to have done something nice for someone he cared about.

“Come on,” Tony said, packing the album back in its box and heading towards the door. “The kids will leave soon and I wanna say goodbye. Pepper’s got gifts for them, as well.”

Steve nodded. “Go ahead, I’ll tidy up a bit and -”

“Seriously? You’re going to load up the dishwasher now? This is deja vu. Why are you doing this to me again?”

“Just go!”

“Fine. But Steve?”

“Yeah.”

“You know you could have ordered all the decorations and everything on Amazon, right? I mean we do have Prime and just saying, you could have if you wanted.”

Steve was mindful of the kids hearing, but he still couldn’t help himself. “Fuck off, Tony.”

A/N: Natasha’s talk about Christmas is based on her age according to the MCU wikia and historical developments in the Soviet Union. “Khodelets” is a traditional dish in Eastern Europe, although whether this is the word actual Russains use or not, I really can’t be sure. My apologies if I got something wrong.

The 7th of January is the actual date of Christmas according to the Julian calendar. Many Orthodox people celebrate it then. Sokovian customs are influenced by the Eastern European customs I grew up with since it’s not an actual country.

Part 1 / 2

Masterlist

This can also be found on Ao3.

Send me opinions and thoughts and random things, ily all x

#tony stark x steve rogers #steve x tony #stony #stony fanfic #avengers fanfiction #llexeh writes #long fic #my fanfiction #steve is going to lose his damn mind #pre-slash #domestic avengers #christmas avengers

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talesofgrace · 5 years

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I’m on the flight home from Ibiza to Liverpool and this flight couldn’t be any more opposite to the one going. Everyone is pretty much done in and I must admit I’m no different. I’ve just spend a week in Ibiza the difference for me this this time is that I traveled as a solo traveler, not knowing anyone and with no real plan only thing I wanted to do was see Camelphat at Hii (they didn’t disappoint but we’ll get to that on another post).

I know Ive harped on about this before but as fun as being single is its hard sometimes when you want to do stuff and there’s no-one to do it with, be it gigs, walks or holidays. Ibiza is always somewhere I’ve wanted to go but no-one else has really wanted to go there. over the past few years I’ve muted the idea that I’d go on my own but I checked out and people laughed at me. last year was the first year I’ve been and it didn’t disappoint I was able to go with my sister and cousin and we had a ball. This year we planned to do the same again but one thing or another cropped up, life got in the way and no-one else was able to come. So after years of talking about going on my own I decided just to take the plunge.

This little post is about the general trip and little tips I picked up from people and what’s on offer for solo travellers. Im going to write one about the places we went separately, mainly for my memory so I don’t forget what went on!

Now Ibiza isn’t somewhere i though that people head by themselves unlike places like mainland Europe, Thailand backpacking or Australia but let me tell you I couldn’t of been more wrong. Soooooo very wrong!!! Yes there are huge groups of people on lads lads lads holidays, hen doos, stags doos and little groups of people with their mates but I found there was equally as many people on their own too. To make sure I was stalked at sorry safe at every step of the way my beautiful little friends added me on find a friend. My mum as sister all ready stalk sorry I mean have me on there (I often forget this and my mum will ring asking how the motorway traffic is and ill be super confused but she’ll inform me that she checked the app before ringing.)

After a little bit of googling I managed to find a Facebook group of people that were heading out on their own and I also joined a few workers groups on Facebook too to see about cheap places to stay and things to do that wasn’t just clubbing (I know, I know what can I say Im cultured too). This started to give me a little bit of confidence that I wasn’t a total loon doing this and it was something people did.

I was torn about where to stay. I couldn’t find any hotel rooms for just 1 person and any that I could were so expensive and I really didn’t have the money for it. I ended up finding a hostel in San Antonio called Amistat. I’ve only ever stayed in a hostel once and that was with 5 other mates so it wasn’t bad but this was a week with 5 other strangers. However after a few reads of reviews and chatting to people on the FB I decided to book it. There are different rooms you can have a 10 bed mixed dorm for £12.65 a night, single sex female dorm with ensuite for £21 a night. They also do private rooms for 2 people that are ensuites for £75 a night. I opted for a female dorm facing the pool with breakfast included (although I only made it out of bed once for breakfast) I though “ah fuck it” (that phrase came up a few times this week). On reflection I wouldn’t get the breakfast again and save myself €6 a day and just use the lovely cafe called Cafe Hunza that’s opposite instead. The only thing I wasn’t sold on was the green pool. The colour was just a little uninviting. They did have a schedule things that the hostel were organising however we didn’t go on any of those and due to the shite weather that was forecast (bloody rain in Ibiza) a lot of stuff was cancelled in advance.

view from balcony

green pool….

Speaking of weather in Ibiza. One thing I did learn was that never trust the weather report. It changes literally by the second. At one point I was looking at the weather and it was saying it was raining for the next 6 hours however I was outside and I could see the moon. Not a cloud in the sky. But when it rained. It really rained. Thunder lightning and flooding in the streets. But even when it rains on Ibiza it’s still better than a night back home. I’m from up north, weather doesn’t stop us going out. We just adapt.

So back to the Facebook group. Someone on there had created a WhatsApp group for everyone that was going and I got added to that. I’d never felt as popular in my life my phone was pinging constantly. From that a few people who were there the same dates as me set up another WhatsApp group and started to plan our week about what wanted to see what where. While this was happening I made a friend on the internet (don’t worry she was an actual real person) who was staying in the same hostel and coming out and leaving on the same day! Winner winner chicken dinner. And it turns out she was bloody lovely and such a good laugh too. [Hayley you helped to make a awesome week even more awesome.] we also made another friend off the internet who was over 30 too Andy. And just like that we became the Brit’s abroad.

Up cropped another WhatsApp group for guest list entries which gave you a heads up as to where you could get in for a little cheaper. This came in very handy indeed!!

As I was trying to save as much money as possible I used the buses wherever I could or shared a taxi with other people. The buses are actually really good and run all through the night. The bus station was super close to the hostel (10 min walk) and the disco bus took you to pretty much all the places you wanted to go and also took you home. It for a bit crowded at times and it was a bit sweaty but the tunes and atmosphere on it was pretty much the same as this flight – bouncing on the way out and everyone passed out on the way home.

I think I actually lucked out a bit with the hostel because it was only full on the first day and the last day too. For the rest of it there was only me and Linda in there which was pretty good!

Depending where you eat over there will depend on how much you spend. Cafe Mambo actually in the day time is quite reasonable for very good portions but if you found little local cafes you could get a coffee for €1.60 and a breakfast for €5. The other thing we were doing to save money was getting food from the supermarket and storing it in the kitchen of the hostel. The only issue with that was it’s not open all the time. The first night on our way home we went in search of a kebab place and took a wrong turn and stumble upon a late night supermarket we ended up getting mini cheddar and a soggy baguette. I didn’t actually eat it I passed out and woke up cradling it with one bite missing from it!!

We pre drank every day and when the drinks are €20 each it’s pretty much the only way. Some places do drinks packages which do work out ok and once or twice we split this between 2 because there was no way we were drinking 6 drinks in on sitting when we had to make sure we got to the next place on the agenda.

The hostel check out was 11am and my flight home wasn’t until 2040 so I made use of the lockers and went for a wander. I got the bus to Ibiza town and went for an explore and then hopped on a bus to Playa d’en Bossa for another mooch. I found a place that I could store my case and bag in and they also did showers for a freshen up. I was as happy as a pig in shite about that bit cause I was bloody roasting and needed to cool down before heading to the airport. That cost €26 and Linda told me what she did last time was had an early flight and her mates were in Ushuaïa so instead of checking in and heading back she went there dumped the bags had a shower and went out. Turns out this is pretty standard. Again also very ducking handy it’s cheaper and quicker than paying for a taxi back and too.

So the cost overall was

£65 for flights

£151 for accommodation

I used £900 for spends which when you say it sounds a lot however an entry to a club ranges from €20-€60 depending where you go and we went to and we went to 9 different places in total that we had to pay on the door for which is about €300 just for getting into places.

I can honestly stay I’ve had the best time ever. And this has spurred me on more to do more things on my own. I’m already thinking about where I can go next for a little weekend away. It’ll be the place with the cheapest flight and a few hostels. I’m not letting being on my own stop me from doing anything again.

I actually have a ticket for The Amsterdam Music Festival in October but due to a lack of funds I highly doubt I’ll be going unfortunately. That will have to wait until next year I think. Unless I come into some money between now and then….Ill just have my own little rave instead

Ibiza solo style I’m on the flight home from Ibiza to Liverpool and this flight couldn’t be any more opposite to the one going.

#adventure #dance #explore #friends #fun #hostal #Ibiza #life #mental health #music #self #single #solo #solo travel #sun #travel

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