Chapter Ten

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A lot can change over the course of one summer.

Tony tried. He really really did. But it was always this or that and he'd find some excuse to pull out a beer while the other two were out of the house.

Sure, the ring around his finger would scream at him not to, telling him of all the broken promises and the secrets and the mistrust that this would cause between him and his fiancé, but he couldn't ignore the painful need to pull out a drink.

It was like it was embedded into his DNA. He couldn't stop himself or else maybe he'd die. That's what it felt like, at least. Drinking was the only reason he could appear at least a little put together for his family. He needed to have his head screwed on straight and the drinking helped in some weird fucked up way.

 So maybe he would pull out a drink every once in a while. 

Maybe he'd get drunk every few nights to take the edge off.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd get black out drunk at least once a week to get him through the days. 

But he was fine. 

There's nothing wrong with him.


*

"What the hell is this?" Steve demands. His hand is wrapped around the neck of an empty bottle of scotch, which had been hidden under their bed in a shoe box. It's been two, almost three months since they got engaged and Steve hadn't noticed anything off. Sure, Tony sometimes acted a little weird or out of line, but nothing that was really concerning. 

"It's nothing," Tony says, crossing his arms over his chest. This time, Steve catches the little slur in his voice and the fumble to get his arms to cooperate. "Just forget it."

"Have you been drinking?" he asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed and letting the bottle fall to the carpet harmlessly. He doesn't even want to look at it anymore. "You know I'm here for you, right? If you were having problems or something... You could've come to me for help."

"I never stopped!" Tony blurts, one hand gripping the door frame, the other grasping at his jeans to hide the shaking. Steve notices though. "I never stopped drinking! I was never sober like I promised everyone I was! I just got better at hiding it."

Steve's heart jumps into his throat, hands trembling as he grabs the sheets on the bed to steady himself. He needs to look put together if he's going to talk this through with Tony. 

"What?" he murmurs. "Why didn't you talk to us? We're all here for you, babe. You could've talked to us and we'd help you... Where is it? Where's the rest of the bottles?"

Tony huffs out a breath, looking like a toddler as he kicks at the floor in his socked feet. But he nods and starts off towards the bathroom. 

By the end, the bed is stacked with empty and half-empty bottles of liquor along with weird places Tony's been hiding it like clear glue bottles filled with vodka. It's scary to see how many bottles Tony's been hiding from Steve this past year. 

"Is this it?" Steve asks, looking over the pile with a heavy heart. He had no idea it had gotten this bad. He picks up the garbage bag he had gotten from the kitchen and opens it up to start collecting them all.

"Wait," Tony says, glazed eyes turning towards their dresser. He opens the bottom drawer that's full of old t-shirts and digs through it to pull out an empty bottle of whiskey. He tosses it into the pile carelessly with a loud clank. "That's it."

"You promise?" Steve asks, keeping his voice firm and strict like a parent and a child would.

"I promise," Tony says, spinning his engagement ring on his finger absentmindedly. "That's it. That's all I have... I'm going to have to buy more."

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