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[ It's so classic Tony Stark— from the back and forth with himself to the brief pause for inconvenient necessities like breathing or drinking water before diving right back into what he was saying— that Steve can't help laughing. He does, however, regret it immediately. Regrets the laughter, that is, not what he did on the battlefield. The fact that Tony is sitting here, angry, sure, perhaps a tad subdued, but still practically bursting with energy— with life— is proof that Steve made the right call.

And that's all he really has to say for himself. ]

"Not try dying," remember? [ He echoes Tony's words back to him. Was that really only a few days ago? ] I made you a deal.

[A few days ago, plus or minus the time Steve was unconscious, but let's not talk about that just yet.]

I think you also said "whatever it takes". And what it took was me using the Infinity Stones to turn Thanos and his alien army to dust. And I was okay with that! Someone had to do it, you know?

[He sets the glass down again and holds up a finger.]

What someone did not have to do was tackle me to the ground [he may be exaggerating a bit here] and try to end up like goddamn Anakin Skywalker. And by someone, I mean you, in case we aren't entirely clear here. I didn't need to be saved by a knight in shining armor.

[He didn't want to be saved. He's not sure he does now, either.]

[ For some reason, it's the last thing that Tony says— that he didn't need to be saved— that cuts deepest. It makes Steve feel like a selfish fool for ever trying to assign a grand romantic meaning to what he thought was his last breath. Tony's right, he doesn't need a knight in shining armor. Even if he did, Steve took himself out of the running for that title years ago. No amount of bridge mending or sacrifice plays will ever change that.

But in this case, as much as Steve feels like an idiot, it's Tony who will have to suck it up. The fact that he's still alive to be mad at Steve trumps everything else.

Steve looks Tony dead on, clenches his jaw, and says: ] "Whatever it takes" extends to saving you. You're not getting an apology from me. Not for this.

I don't want an apology.

[Tony starts to fold his arms over his chest, then remembers his injured right hand and tucks both hands behind his back. The trouble is, he's not sure what he wants, except to yell at Steve. Which, okay, he's accomplished.]

I just wanted to make sure you knew how stupid you were for doing that.

[Aaaand now he's lingering awkwardly. Now that Steve's awake, Tony doesn't want to leave. Some part of him is subconsciously worried that if he takes his eyes off of him, he'll disappear - dissolve into dust, pry himself out of the hospital bed and fuck off for another two years, whatever, Tony doesn't want it to happen.

Not that he's willing to admit that.]

You- the world needs people like you more than it needs people like me.

[ Steve furrows his brow and curls his mouth in an exaggerated display of incredulity. ]

You know, for such a smart person, you say the stupidest things sometimes.

[ Even hoarse and weak as he sounds right now, there's some bite in his voice. He's as angry with Tony for saying it as he is with himself. Tony knows better than anyone that when it mattered most, Steve wasn't the man that the world— hell, the universe— needed him to be. ]

You're the only reason any of this worked. All I did was drag you back in, so yeah, when I saw a chance to make sure you got out again, I took it.

[Tony feels behind him for the chair next to the bed, sitting down a little heavier than is necessary. His legs aren't going to hold him much longer, and he's not going to waste his strength standing up to argue with Steve.

(Steve might have taken the brunt of the energy from the gauntlet, but Tony's not without his own injuries - and that doesn't count the bangs and bruises already incurred in the fight. Tony's just an old hand at faking being better off than he actually is.)]

There is no way to get out. [His lips twist into a parody of a smile.] One thing happens, you think you're done, and then there's the next and the next, always something bigger and badder. I think- I don't think I'll be able to go back into retirement.

[Which is unrelated to giving Steve a hard time for saving him, but the thing about Tony's anger is that it blazes up hot and cools down just as quickly. Doesn't mean he can't hold a grudge, but it does mean that there are times when he's just not angry enough to bash his head against the brick wall that is Steve Rogers.

(Sometimes, he is.)

He sighs; his shoulders slump, and suddenly he looks old and tired.] What I meant was that you're a good person. I...I'm a lot of things, but nobody's ever accused me of that. Which I guess probably explains why you saved me - you being a good person, not me being an asshole. Not that you can't be an asshole sometimes, but- [Tony grimaces and shakes his head.] Not the point.

[ Steve can be like a dog with a bone, but he's tired too, and less capable of hiding it (though not for lack of trying). Tony standing down and relaxing his posture takes the steam out of Steve's response. That, and he's ashamed that it took Tony letting his guard down for Steve to remember that they're both recovering. He should've insisted that Tony sit down sooner.

He doesn't have time to dwell on that, however, because then Tony is telling him that he's a good person. Sure, it's not "knight in shining armor," but it's something. Of course, Tony doesn't know that Steve's actions weren't purely selfless. Tony can't know, because this is progress of some sort and the last thing Steve wants is to end up back at square one.

It's going to be difficult to toe the line between saying what he wants to say and showing all his cards, but Tony could put that wall back up at any moment, so there's no time to waste. ]

Then let me be the first. You're a good person, Tony. I would've said that sooner but I— [ Steve realizes that this admission is much more honest than he intended, and that feels inherently uncomfortable, but he can't think of anything to else to say, so he adopts a different tone, trying to shrug it off, minimize it. ] —I didn't think you needed to hear my opinion.

[Tony laughs, and the sound is a little sad.] That's the kind of thing I would tell my therapist about, if I had one. Tell you what, we'll grab some Pym particles and hop back a few decades so you can say that in front of my dad, and then I won't have to worry about the therapy bills.

[Ha, ha. It's a hilarious joke, except that, actually, being told he's a good person by his childhood hero is arguably the most important thing to ever happen to Tony. And, yes, he's definitely discovered that Steve is human and has way, way too many flaws and a fist he never wants to be on the receiving end of ever again (for more reasons than just one), but there's still one tiny part of Tony that remembers that moment of awe he had back on the helicarrier, seeing Captain America in the flesh for the first time (shortly before discovering what a pain in the ass he could be). Not to mention the significantly larger part of Tony that- well. That doesn't matter. He threw away any chance of that back in Siberia.]

Anyway, you should've known that I'll never turn down an opportunity to have my ego stroked. [He tries to smile at Steve, tries to summon the ghost of his former self to cover up his moment of vulnerability. He can't quite make it all the way to innuendo, though - but that cuts a little too close to home for him, so it's probably for the best.]

[ Tony laughs it off, which is not unexpected. He seems about as comfortable with emotional honesty as Steve is— which is to say, not at all. Steve wonders if Tony's deflections have always sounded so hollow, only Steve was too wrapped up in his own bullshit to notice before.

Maybe that therapist Tony joked about would tell Steve that he barely possessed the emotional capacity to process his own turmoil, back then, and that he might consider going a little easy on himself. Which, of course, would only awaken the dreaded stubborn impulses that have always made Steve Rogers a nightmare patient.

Steve's own laugh comes out as a pathetic little chuckle; anything else would rattle his bones, all 206 of which feel sore down to the very marrow. ]

I just assumed you'd be a little more selective about who does the stroking, that's all. [ Regret slams into Steve as soon as the words are out, but they're out there now, floating in the dead silence that follows. Actually, dead silence is more descriptive of the panicked emptiness that suddenly fills Steve's head; the monitor hooked up to Steve's pulse is actually getting louder by the second.

He knows the chances of Tony letting a classic "that's what she said" moment slip by are close to none. It's a good thing that lost causes are Steve's specialty.

Steve sighs heavily, wincing. ] Yes, I heard how that came out, but before you never let me hear the end of it, consider that you kind of owe me one right now.

[ Of course, Steve doesn't really see it that way, but if his actions today earned him any good will, now's the time to cash in. ]

[Tony bites his tongue on 'that was deliberate' because, wow, getting into that is so not what he needs right now. (It was, though, and normally he'd love to give Steve shit about innuendo, but innuendo directed at him is a whole other ball game.) Instead, he raises his eyebrows.]

I would, but Rhodey's never stopped calling me Tony Stank, and that one is completely on you.

[Not that he really wants to bring up anything related to that period of their lives - it's almost certainly a bad idea - but he's running out of safe topics to talk about, assuming there were any safe topics to begin with (debatable).]

[ Steve knits his brow, a smirk tugging at his lips. ] Stank?

[ There's a story there, and yes, it presents Steve a quick escape from his unfortunate fumble, but Steve is just as intrigued as he is relieved for the save. It's not lost on Steve that Tony is volunteering something embarrassing about himself as a distraction. Steve feels uncomfortably warm as he digests that Tony trusts him enough to show even this small vulnerability. ]

Yeah, the FedEx guy read your shitty handwriting as Tony Stank, and unfortunately, Rhodey just happened to be there when he did.

[A shrug. Tony doesn't like it, but Rhodey at least only uses it in private (in spite of threats to the contrary), and usually when he's getting annoyed about Tony asking after Steve. He's had more embarrassing nicknames, anyway.

Probably.]

Come on, didn't they teach you how to write with a quill and ink pot or something? Maybe papyrus?

Stone tablet, actually. [ Steve makes a crack right back, slipping into perhaps the least charged back-and-forth he's ever had with Tony Stark. This feels easier than it has any right to, and Steve expects the other shoe will drop sooner than he'd like, but worrying himself with the inevitable requires energy he hasn't yet recovered. ]

I was the top chiseler in my class.

[ Is he using jokes to awkwardly side step the elephant in the room? Absolutely. But Tony doesn't seem any more inclined to get into the details of that FedEx package. Maybe they really can just leave it be. Maybe this is progress. ]

Like you could even pick up a mallet before the serum.

[But there's something almost affectionate about the way he teases Steve - or at least a little friendlier than his earlier anger. Something closer to the banter they'd had before everything went sideways.]

Painting on cave walls seems like it's more your style. [He bats his eyelashes at Steve.] Draw me like one of your Neanderthal girls, Rogers.

Hah! [ A bark of laughter rips out of Steve before he can catch himself. Only a handful of people would tease him about that. Years ago, Steve would have taken it like a sucker punch, especially coming from Tony, who had seen right through him from the moment they met, when he pegged the serum as the only thing making Steve special. The years since have humbled him, and his group counseling stint mellowed him (by a very narrow, relative margin, but still). Steve doesn't bristle like he would have before, and he isn't defensively committed to misunderstanding Tony.

It still ends up feeling like a sucker punch, though. Steve's laugh dissolves into a groan as his body makes him regret every individual nerve ending. A couple of minutes and some very deep breaths later, he is more or less leveled out, if a little red in the face. ]

You know you'd have to sit still for a portrait, right?

[ Of course Steve didn't make it to 2023 without seeing Titanic, but right now he's really wishing he had. Knowing exactly what Tony's referencing in this instance is a curse. ]

[That laugh actually gets something more like a genuine smile out of Tony, albeit a small one - but then Steve groans and Tony feels pain knife through his own body. He doubles over in the chair and tries to suck in a deep breath, head between his knees. He assumes the painkillers the doctors have dosed him with are wearing off, nothing more; after a few moments, the pain eases, and he's able to sit up again.]

Can't do a lot else right now. [Tony pulls a face at his own weakness; he's not as young as he used to be, and he knows from experience that he's not going to bounce back like he might have ten years ago.] But a valid point nonetheless, since I don't know how soon you'll be picking up a pencil.

[Sooner than he will, probably. The serum's like that.]

[ Steve lifts his right hand and wiggles his fingers. He still has dirt under his fingernails from digging through the rubble of their headquarters. But the main thing is: ]

Still got my drawing hand.

[ His left arm is covered in gauze from the shoulder down to his fingertips. If the angry, blistered skin around his shoulder and collarbone are any indication, it's not pretty.

The serum has never been put to the test like this, but it hasn't failed him yet. Steve is more concerned about Tony— he caught a glimpse in his periphery of Tony doubled over, but by the time Steve recovered, Tony was already upright again. ]

[More than I've got, Tony thinks, but Steve would (rightfully) point out that he's alive and he'll be able to adjust. And it's true, although Tony keeps wondering if he might be better off if they'd just amputated his hand. For all he knows, he's stuck with a useless claw - but there's no use in wallowing in self-pity. Not right now, anyway. He'll save that for when he's alone.]

Forget drawing, [he scoffs,] you'll probably be out of bed and swinging that hammer around by tomorrow afternoon.

[He almost says 'throwing your shield', but catches himself just in time. Just means he'll have to work on that prototype once he's free of the hospital.]

[ Steve glances down at the fingers of his right hand, picking at a hangnail that suddenly holds his full attention. He knows what it's supposed to mean that he could lift the hammer, but knowing is not accepting.

He tells Tony the same thing he told himself when it happened: ] You know, that was probably a fluke. I bet the hammer would've responded to anyone who stepped up to the plate to rescue Thor.

[ But it sure was a hell of a fight. Steve hasn't even begun to process everything that happened on that battlefield. He was unconscious for the aftermath.

Which reminds him: ] Is everyone... Were there any casualties?

Edited 2021-01-05 07:33 (UTC)

You just keep telling yourself that, pal.

[Tony, of course, isn't in the least bit surprised. He just wonders why it hadn't happened at the party all those years ago.]

Everyone's fine - or as fine as they can be, considering the circumstances. [He hadn't been conscious much longer than Steve after he snapped, but he's had Rhodey fill him in on everything since then.] Mostly bumps and bruises, apart from Banner's arm.

[ Steve closes his eyes and exhales, relieved. There's an ache in his heart, a space carved out by Natasha's death that won't ever heal, but it's downright miraculous that they didn't lose anyone else. She'd be proud. ]

Good.

[ It feels strange, to finally be on the other side of the snap. Believing that taking a stand together would make all the difference was the delicate flicker of hope that kept Steve going, but he only believed it because he had to. How else could he keep trudging along in the wake of his failures?

After five long and miserable years, there's a lingering fear that the rug will be pulled out from under them. He wonders if Tony feels it too. ]

So we're three for three with arm injuries, huh? Can't wait to tell Buck he ain't special.

[ Steve freezes, too late to catch himself. Shit. He and Tony were just getting along. Why would he bring up Bucky now?

He watches closely for Tony's reaction, all while doing his best to make it look like he isn't staring, a near impossible feat in such an enclosed space. ]

[Tony likes to tell himself that he's perfectly mature, that it's been seven years since they beat each other up in an abandoned missile silo in Siberia and he's come to terms with the fact that Steve lied to him and then tried to kill him to protect his best friend. (In retrospect, of course, Tony knows he shouldn't have lashed out at Barnes, but the problem is that he's only human, that the combination of grief and feeling betrayed by his best friend had left him reeling like a one-two punch.)

The reality is more complicated. Tony doesn't know how he feels about Barnes now that he's had time to consider the matter (had time to read over the HYDRA files on him, sifted out from SHIELD's data dump). But he does very much suspect that he and Steve are...involved, and that's enough to make his stomach twist in that old jealous knot he's used to. He clenches his hidden hand into a fist and immediately regrets the motion; the fingers barely move, and it still sends shooting pain up his arm and oh Jesus fuck.

He sucks in a breath of air through his teeth before he speaks again, his voice a little strained.]

He'll be the only one with vibranium, though, unless I can talk T'Challa into giving us more.

[ For all that he is hanging on Tony's next words, desperate to know that he hasn't just shattered the budding ease between the two of them, Steve ends up not hearing any of it. Stabbing pain shoots from the knuckles on his right hand all the away up to his shoulder blades. It knocks the breath out of him in a sudden huff, the pain inexplicably on par with that of his left arm, which had actual contact with the gauntlet.

Maybe referred pain packs more of a punch when the injury is gauntlet-induced. It's an unconvincing theory, but he doesn't have any others. ]

Might've spoken too soon about that drawing hand. [ He grits his teeth, waiting for the pain to stop radiating. It ebbs away little by little. ]

[Literally anything is preferable to talking about Bucky Barnes - hence Tony's attempt to quickly change the topic - but he still frowns and tilts his head.]

Still numb from chucking around lightning bolts?

[Because Tony can see the bandages from his injury on Steve's left side, and he knows full well he's right-handed. It doesn't quite add up, although that might be the lingering effects of the painkillers in his system.]

No, it's— [ Steve frowns down at his right hand, then looks over to Tony. He was prepared to dismiss it, but maybe Tony wasn't so far off. ] Actually, you might be onto something there. Maybe lightning powers come with residual side effects for us mortals.

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