Tony Stark-⎊-Oneshots

Scars

TW: Body shaming and past memories of abuse(not graphic or detailed)

It's been so long.

It's been so long since he didn't wear a long-sleeve under his t-shirts.

It's been so long since he put on shorts.

It's been so long since he even considered sleeping nude.

It's been so long since his torso and legs have seen the light.

.

So when Clint came into the common room, shouting about having a team bonding session at the pool, Tony was too excited to remember.

Too excited to remember there was a reason it's been years since he even placed his feet in the water.

Too excited to remember there was a reason his bathing suit still had the tag on it.

Too excited to remember why he shakes in the shower, bolting the door shut, anxious someone would burst in and see.

See his body, see what Howard did to it.

So when they got down to the pool, Tony didn't even think twice.

He watched Clint strip himself nude before jumping in, prompting everyone to groan and laugh.

He watched Natasha jump in after him in her skin-tight bikini, dunking the archer as soon as she hit the water.

He watched Steve and Bruce follow more sedately, pulling off their shirts so their bare, shivering torsos were revealed on top of their colourful swim shorts.

So he didn't think twice in joining in the smiles and pulling off his shirt. Just as he moved to cannonball into the pool, everyone gasped.

He frowned, frozen in jump-position and followed their gazes to his torso. It was then he remembered.

Remembered his horribly scarred body that was covered in jagged marks.

Remembered the cigarette burns that littered up his belly and arms.

Remembered the chemical burns that splattered his chest.

Remembered the stitches that barely held his skin together, even after all these years.

Remembered how horrible he looked.

Remembered how ugly he looked.

Remembered how freakish he looked.

So he ran. But he was stopped.

He didn't realize in his shock that Steve had come dripping out the water, walking towards him, gaze on his abdomen unmoving. "What did you do to yourself?" He gasped.

It was then Tony felt it.

His shame turned to shock.

His embarrassment turned to anger.

"You think I did this to myself?" Tony managed to choke out.

Clint nodded. "Well, you are horrible at taking care of yourself. I'm not surprised you look like Frankenstein," he chuckled.

Tony forced back the tears that ached to pour out his eyes. "You think I did this to myself?" He repeated. He took a deep breath and forced himself to stare into his teammate's eyes.

He pointed to a large scar that crossed along his lower stomach. "This one was for dropping a tool." He pointed to a chemical burn splatter. "Howard's experiment went wrong so he decided I should be the one to pay for it." He found another scar that had small shadows of stitches along its length. "Howard got mad that I left my toys in the living room."

"Tony, Howard would never-" Steve started.

Tony continued, showing the scars on his back. "Howard pushed me into a glass table when I was in his way." He pointed to several masses of scars. "Sometimes he would smash his beer bottle on me when he was mad."

"Please, stop," Bruce suddenly spoke up. Tony realized the scientist was crying just as much as he was.

"Fuck you," Tony said into Steve's face, suddenly angry. He pointed at the dozens and dozens of cigarette burns all over his body. "These are for every time a search for Captain America came up empty." He pointed to the largest scar on his abdomen. It stretched across the top of his bicep down to below his belly button. "And this is when he decided I could never live up to you. This is when he decided that he no longer wanted a son if it wasn't Steve Rogers, his proudest achievement. This is the moment I decided I hated Captain America." Tony turned and ran back inside.

"Tones, please," Bruce said, grabbing him from behind. Tony was in the middle of a panic attack in the living room. He was scratching every piece of skin he could reach and was screaming at the top of his lungs.

He was horrible.

He was ugly.

He was a freak.

Bruce wrapped his arms around Tony's back, restraining the man's hands and lowering him to the ground. They leaned against the couch as Tony fought to get loose, screaming. "You're okay, Tones. Let it out," Bruce said softly, simply holding the man.

It was minutes until Tony started calming down, going quiet and limp in Bruce's arms. The other Avengers stood in the doorway, watching guiltily. "I hate myself, Bruce. I hate what a freak Howard made me," Tony whispered.

Bruce turned Tony so he was facing him. "You are not a freak, you are a survivor. We love every piece of you. Every scar, every burn, makes you, you." Bruce ran gentle fingers along with Tony's scars. The genius closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. No one had ever touched them before, at least not as lovingly as Bruce did. "I love you, Tony Stark," Bruce smiled.

Tony cried because that moment was the first time he felt like a person.

He didn't feel horrible, or ugly, or freakish.

He felt loved.