Multifandom Oneshots

Tony Stark x Reader

"Hey, Tony." You call, knocking on the door as you let yourself in. "Hey, JARVIS."
"Hello, Ms. Y/L/N." JARVIS says. "Mr. Stark is asleep."
"At five in the afternoon?"
"Yes. He's had trouble sleeping lately."
"JARVIS, tell me this--" You begin.
"Mr. Stark says I'm not allowed to tell you anything."
"Mr. Stark's gonna get his ass whooped if he doesn't watch it."
"Yes." JARVIS agrees.
"How long has he been asleep?"
"Three hours and forty-six minutes."
"Do you think he'll be up soon?"
"From his heart rate and eye movement, he should be awakening any minute. Perhaps you should go awaken him."
"No, I don't want to wake him. I know he hasn't been sleeping--"
"He has nightmares. It's okay to wake him. But remember: I'm not supposed to tell you anything."
"Don't worry, J. I won't spill the beans." You smile a bit.
"He's in his laboratory."
"Okay. Thanks."
By the time you get there, Tony's standing at a desk, leaning his hands on it.
You knock to avoid frightening him too badly.
He jumps anyways and turns around. "Oh, hey." He flashes a smile but it quickly fades. "I was just about to have a drink. Care to join?"
"No thank you." You pick your way through the things on the floor to join him at the desk. "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine. I'm always fine. You know that." He gives a little grin.
"And you know that I'm a licensed psychologist. Why do you insist upon lying to me?"
"'Anthony Stark, you have to be strong. Even if you have to fake it, you have to be strong.'" He says, like he's repeated it several times too many.
"And who told you that?"
"My dad. Me." He shrugs and reaches for a glass.
"I thought we talked about the drinking, honey."
"You're a licensed psychologist. You figure it out." He grabs the glass anyway.
"Okay. You want a diagnosis? Because I've written up a detailed--" You pull a filing folder from the stack of books in your arms, but he interrupts your speaking.
"What?" Tony jerks the manilla folder from you and opens it, thumbing through your evaluation. "What the hell?" He says, sounding only semi-angry.
"It's not too bad; I could be putting anti-depressants in your water."
"Lucky for you I don't drink water."
"Yes, and that's a problem. It's written on there somewhere too." You assure him.
"What the hell?" He asks again. "Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder? I don't have PTSD--I'm sorry, but does this say depression? I do not have depression--"
"Shall I relate some signs of it, Tony?"
"Yes, and I can convince you you're wrong. Go."
"Withdrawing from loved ones." You start.
"I don't have any loved ones. I'm alone."
"What about me, Tony?"
"Well, I'm not too sure right now if you're my girlfriend or my shrink."
"You're withdrawing from everybody, Tony. Do you feel isolated?"
"... Yes."
"See, there you go. Point A."
"Okay, so just because I have one doesn't mean I am."
"Self-loathing. And don't even try to deny that one."
"Okay. Next."
"Reckless behavior."
"Ha! Gotcha there. I don't do anything."
"Remember that time you just decided to hop in a racecar? Or fly to Iran? Or what about the time you gave your address to terrorists?"
"The Iran thing was for business. I can't explain the racecar though. Or the address thing..."
"Insomnia. I know you have that."
"How? Did JARVIS rat me out?"
"No. I deduced it on my own. It's painfully obvious."
"Moving on."
"Alcohol dependency is common in both depression and PTSD. As is insomnia."
"Next."
"Your chronic anxiety attacks--"
"They aren't chronic, per say."
"Do you feel hopeless? Or helpless?"
"I plead the fifth. It's a constitutional right and you can't take that away from me."
"Fine. But not to mention the nightmares--"
"JARVIS told on me, didn't he?"
"No. You fell asleep on my couch the other day."
"I did, didn't I? Well, shoot. Shouldn't've fallen in love with a therapist."
"Tony, I just want to help."
"Have you been doing all of this just to study me?"
"No. I've been studying you just to help you. You can't keep pushing everybody away."
"I'm fine, Y/N."
"Steve Rogers said that while you guys were working you were complaining of your left arm being numb?"
"My gosh, can nobody keep things to themselves?"
"Are you okay? Physically?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Do you want to talk?"
"I watched my parents die."
"What?"
"I watched my parents die. While we were... working. I saw a video." He clears his throat. "I watched my mother's neck get snapped. And Steve Rogers new about it, yet he was mad at me for keeping secrets?--and I don't need a therapist right now, okay? I want my girlfriend. Please."
You wrap your arms around him, reaching up to kiss him. He reaches his fingers up to brush your cheek as he reciprocates.
"Hey, Tony?" You ask quietly, pulling away a bit. You open your eyes, but his are still closed.
"Yeah?" He whispers, moving forwards to try to reach your lips. When he can't, he opens his eyes.
"Do you still feel alone? Right in this moment, do you feel as though you'd have to pay people to cry at your funeral?"
"Strange analogy."
"Answer."
"I believe I'd have to pay everybody except maybe you to cry at my funeral."
"Okay. Well, that's a start."
"Is it hard for you?"
"Watching you try to kill yourself or watching you suffer?"
"Both."
"Yes. It really is."
"But you still make pie charts of it?"
"It's a coping skill. Leave me alone."
He smiles. "Leave you alone? I wouldn't want you to feel isolated though..."
"Okay, that's enough."
"Oh, no. Let's make an evaluation of you."
You shake your head with a smile. He's smiling, though, so what can you do? "Chart away. I'll watch."
"No, you have to help. We can hang them up on the fridge like childrens' art."
You laugh a bit. "Okay, Tony. Sounds good."
"That's because I'm full of good ideas. Next great idea: Tell me what you're thinking right now."
"I'm thinking that your smile doesn't match your eyes."
"Pardon?"
"You smile like your happy."
"And my eyes are like a kicked puppy?"
"I was gonna say broken, but that works. Good analogy."
"Thank you. It was better than the funeral one, huh? Admit it."
"It was better than the funeral one." You admit with a smile.
You stare at each other for a second and his smile drops. "I love you." He says quietly, his voice cracking ever so slightly.
"I love you too, Tony." You squeeze his hand and offer a little smile.
He kisses you lightly and pulls you into a hug. "Thank you. For everything."
"Of course, Tony."
"I want to make it clear that I don't have a dependency on alcohol. I do, however, have a dependency on you. So, let's go for drinks, shall we? You be my girlfriend, I'll be your boyfriend. You don't analyze me, and I won't try to explain some engineering thing to you for no reason. Sound good?"
You consider for a second.
"Sounds good."