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Tony would never admit this if asked, but he was nervous. You’d think that—being one of the richest and smartest men in the world—Tony Stark was never a nervous man. However, that was a big fat lie. He was a ball of anxiety of the highest caliber most of the time. One of the few times when he wasn’t a ball of nerves was when Pepper was by his side, ‘cause she knew just what he needed to ease his nerves. And, of course, this whole thing was her idea.
“To get you away from all the meetings and projects,” She’d said, and then gave him the ticket.
Giving him a VIP ticket to a Metallica concert should have had Tony bursting at the seams with glee. On the other hand, he was meeting Metallica. They were one of his favorite bands! Even celebrities had their fanboy moments, y’know? This was no different, and so Tony was jittering with anxiety at finally being able to meet them.
Apparently, one of the stage workers finally noticed him enough to approach.
“You okay?” asked the cigarette-toting, long-haired, vest-wearing muscleman. Well, not so much exaggerated muscle as the guy was stocky. He wasn’t even six foot, and Tony should know.
“Doing just fine, Orczy.” Tony muttered, trying to ignore the anxious impulse to check his phone for what time it was. That didn’t keep him from making a nickname for the dude, however.
“You sure?” The guy gave him a raised eyebrow.
“How’d you feel if you were meeting your favorite band for the first time, huh?” The genius grumbled.
“Ah. First-timer. Gotcha.” The guy nodded, “Guessin’ you’re the guy with the VIP pass?”
“Why would I be wearing one if I wasn’t?”
“You never know. Mind if I double-check?”
“Knock yourself out, Orczy.”
Tony handed over the pass that had been hanging around his neck. As the guy looked it over, something occurred to the genius. The guy hadn’t been starstruck by Tony. It wasn’t all that long ago that he revealed himself as Iron Man, genius superhero extraordinaire, yet this guy was as unimpressed as if he was reading a report card instead of an expensive VIP pass.
“Looks legit.” The guy handed the pass back.
“Nice fact-checking, Orczy.”
“I’m not much of an orc.” The guy spoke. He shrugged his large shoulders, “You can call me Eddie.”
“You don’t look much like an Eddie.” Tony replied.
“Well, you don’t look much like a metalhead.” Eddie shot back, glancing over Tony’s outfit. Tony will admit, he hadn’t had time to change out of his suit before he had to get to the concert, but he did have a Metallica shirt underneath. He was tempted to flash it to prove himself.
“Metalheads come in all colors, Orczy.” Tony said. Eddie shook his head.
“Hey, I ain’t tryin’ to judge. Just pointin’ it out.”
“Feels a lot like you’re judging me.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t mean to.” Eddie gestured, “C’mon, ‘s almost time for the meet-n-greet.”
As Tony followed, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, another thing occurred to him. Amongst the lighthearted arguing, his anxieties had eased and Tony didn’t feel like he was on the verge of falling apart anymore. The small bit of banter with Eddie had eased his nerves. The genius usually didn’t feel so at ease with someone he didn’t know, and yet Eddie had managed it. Maybe he was secretly a therapist besides being part of the stage crew. Tony was itching to ask JARVIS to look into it just so he could know a little more about this weirdly calming stranger.
As soon as his eyes landed on Metallica, however, the thought left Tony’s mind. Fanboy time now, conspiracy theory time later.
Eddie had been the one to help escort Tony to his private box in the stands after the meet-n-greet and was also waiting on the genius after the concert was over.
“I thought you were supposed to help the band with the stage?” Tony glanced back at where the band was making their way backstage.
“The other roadies have it down. If there’s a serious problem they can call me.” Eddie waved the concern away. His brown eyes glanced over, “I’m more worried ‘bout you.”
“Me?”
“You looked like you were gonna have a panic attack earlier.” Eddie pointed out.
“I was fine.” Tony lied.
“Bullshit.” Eddie snapped, suddenly sharp. He pointed at the other man, “Dude, you don’t have to lie about being anxious. It ain’t healthy to keep it all bottled up. Trust me, I know that shit.”
“And how would you know?” Tony prodded. He didn’t like how Eddie was so easily able to pick apart his mask. Usually he was able to cover his anxiety really well, but Eddie saw through it so quickly it was giving him even more anxiety.
“I grew up an anxious kid. Never fit in anywhere, never knew how to interact with people all that well. Even though I could charm the spots off a leopard, it didn't mean I could make it my friend.”
“I guess that’s something we have in common.” Tony couldn’t help but comment.
He understood that better than he would fully admit. But Eddie didn’t look much like a rich man’s kid to have the kind of childhood that Tony knew all too well. He looked more like the kind of guy that wasn’t able to stay in one place for long, on the road all his life, and Tony could only guess that it still carried a similar kind of loneliness. And, it seemed like he’d found a way to work through his own trauma. Maybe the superhero genius could learn a thing or two from this guy.
“Then you see my point.” said Eddie, “Bottlin’ up your anxieties makes things a hell of a lot worse.”
“Thank you for pointing that out, Mr. Therapist.” Tony drawled. Eddie rolled his eyes.
“Look, if you ever need someone to talk to ‘bout shit, I don’t mind lendin’ an ear.”
“For what? It’s not like I even know you, man.”
“I didn’t say you had to know me, just that I’d give a listen to any shit that’s on your mind. Or do you wanna turn to those uber-expensive therapists you could always hire but don’t because you wanna talk to someone more personable?”
That jab was way too on-the-nose to be a coincidence. Tony frowned and took a second look at Eddie as JARVIS went ahead and did a search.
“Who says I’d hire an expensive therapist?” He asked.
“You’re Tony Stark. You have the fuckin’ money.” Eddie dug a cigarette out of his pocket along with a lighter and was soon puffing smoke away from Tony.
“You know who I am? But you never acted like you knew me.”
“Ain’t it obvious?” Eddie looked at Tony, “You didn’t come here to be battered with fans and autographs; you just wanted to see a band you liked and have some fun. Would’ve made you an even bigger nervous wreck if I said I knew who you were and you didn’t need any more anxiety, so I lied. Simple as that.”
“That’s…considerate, I guess.” Tony crossed his arms, “Don’t get a lot of considerate people these days.”
“No, you really don’t.” Eddie agreed.
They finally came outside the stadium, where the concert had been held. Eddie had led Tony through a shortcut to the drop off, so as to avoid other fans, and Tony began to realize that Eddie had done so for Tony’s peace of mind.
“Your chauffeur waitin’ for you?” Eddie glanced around.
“Yeah, Happy’s here.” Tony dug out his phone, “I can call him to come get me.”
“I’ll stay here ‘til then.”
“You don’t have to.” Tony was confused on why Eddie would offer to stay.
“Don’t have to, but that doesn't mean you can’t use the company.”
It was at that moment that JARVIS finally finished his search. Eddie’s information popped up on the phone in a text.
His full name is Eddie Riggs. He is 36 years old and has no record of family except for an unnamed mother and his father, Roger Riggs, who was apparently a roadie himself. He seems to be quite popular as a roadie, especially in metal music circles. According to the comments of previous bands he’s worked with, Eddie is very proficient at building and fixing anything from stages to instruments, with many calling him “the best roadie in the business.” Interestingly, he was involved with a stage accident last year for another band he was working with, called Kabbage Boy, and was hospitalized and in a coma for a short while. He subsequently had a miraculous recovery upon his awakening and went right back to working as a roadie.
Tony mused over the information. Eddie was a full-blooded metalhead with a long history as a roadie, was known to be the best roadie a band could ask for, and had even survived a stage collapse. A strange assortment of a past from a guy who still made Tony calm, even with no training as a therapist. The genius tapped his foot, sending Happy a text.
“Quick question.”
“Shoot.” Eddie puffed out smoke.
“Do people always feel…kinda calm ‘round you?”
“Uh…” Eddie paused. He raised an eyebrow, “I guess? I just know how to listen and most people load off their troubles on me and it makes ‘em feel better. It kinda comes with the territory; roadies aren’t meant to be seen or heard. They fix the shit behind the scenes and don’t want attention. They’re there to make the band look good. And if that involves listening to troubles and strife, then we do that too.”
“Gotcha.” Tony slowly nodded. His mind was whirring. As Happy began to pull up to the curb, Tony took out a business card and a pen and scribbled on the back. He handed it to Eddie.
“Text me. I might take you up on the whole ‘lending an ear’ thing.”
“So the therapists aren’t doin’ anythin’ for ya?” Eddie’s jab was light and he tucked the card in his vest. His large hand pat Tony’s back, then he stepped away. He was waving goodbye, even as the car pulled away, Tony now safely inside.
“Make a new friend?” Happy asked, almost joking.
“You could say that.” Tony stared at the VIP pass still draped around his neck.