shield | open post.

If I had any desire to ever time travel again - which I don't - I would absolutely record you saying the word "douchebag" and get some Pym particles to show my dad.

[Never mind that Howard has probably heard Steve swear before - Tony knows that Steve isn't a Boy Scout, and that soldiers in every branch of the service can make him sound tame. Tony was brought up on that very specific image of Captain America, and there's only one person to thank for that.]

Anyway! Nebula likes me. As much as Nebula likes anyone, which is more like Nebula usually doesn't want to kill me. I taught her to play paper football.

[Not that he wants to think of those endless days drifting in space, all those recordings he made on his helmet. Most of them were to Pepper - even apart, it's just natural for him to talk to her - but he'd made one for Steve, towards the end. It's probably still lurking somewhere in his servers. He should really delete that.]

Be a waste of Pym particles just to show him something he's heard before. [ Steve makes a sound somewhere between laugh and sigh, gently shaking his head. It used to rankle when Tony teased Steve this way, like he was more of a symbol than a person. But Steve knows whatever pedestal he lived on in Tony's mind has long since crumbled, so now the jokes are truly just that and nothing more. ]

You know, it's easier to picture Nebula playing tackle football. Did you let her win? [ Steve asks with one raised eyebrow and zero judgment. His self-preservation instinct leaves something to be desired, but even he would think twice before angering Nebula. ]

We used to play a lot of paper football in the sick ward. Paper anything, really. One time I drew a checkers board on a place mat and we used buttons for game pieces.

Neither of us were in shape for tackle football. [They'd barely had enough energy for paper football, there at the end, but he doesn't want to think about that, about how he'd just assumed they'd die drifting somewhere in space.] But, nah, she was a fast learner. I mean, you're a fighter, you know how it is. Damn good aim.

I'd offer to get you a real checkers board, but I'm not sure you aren't gonna go and check yourself out of here tomorrow. [It's only half-joking; Tony knows there's a real chance of that happening. And he's also pretty sure that even with the serum, Steve needs more time than that to heal.] I'd do the same, but Rhodey told Happy to sit on me if I try, and I can't actually fire him anymore.

[Not that he would ever fire Happy anyway, and he's pretty sure Happy's stopped believing his threats.]

Maybe not that fast. I'd never hear the end of it if Sam or Bucky showed up and I'd already checked myself out.

[ Steve gives a little shrug, like it's a casual calculus and he's just weighing his options. There is truth in it: he can't wait to see them, and in his current state, he would be justified in letting them come to him. But there's a not-insignificant part of him that selfishly wants to stay right here, in Tony's presence, as long as Tony will entertain him.

The idea that Tony would come back not out of an odd sense of obligation from having shared a near-death experience, but just to play checkers and pass the time with Steve, has butterflies practicing acrobatics in his belly. ]

I don't think I'd hear the end of it.

[He's not sure he's on speaking terms with Barnes, but Tony's pretty sure the man would make an exception just to yell at him for letting Steve escape. And he knows Wilson would - although everyone knows better than to blame Tony for Steve being, well, Steve. It would take a goddamn force of nature to stop him, and Tony honestly thinks Steve would still come out on top.]

I'm more of a chess guy. Well, actually, I'm more of a video games guy, but I'm willing to go old-school if I have to. [Older school than the arcade cabinets in his game room.] You know how to play chess? I bet you've hung out in Central Park and swapped stories with the guys playing there.

Oh, no way, I'm not playing chess with you. [ Steve raises his good hand up in surrender, shaking his head. ] I bet I'd have better luck against Deep Blue.

[ It's a pop culture reference only Steve Rogers could be proud of— several decades out of date and only appealing to a very niche audience— but it's rare that he can come up with something remotely close to Tony's field of interest, so this still counts as a win. ]

We need something that's just as much mathematical probability as it is dumb luck. Even out the playing field for us simple folk. [ Steve suspects the grin plastered on his face is making him look rather goofy, but he can't seem to help it, feeling emboldened now that Tony seems set on coming back tomorrow. ]

DUM-E coulda beat Deep Blue. [Tony waves his hand - it's an exaggeration - but he's also smiling broadly at both the flattery and the pop culture reference. It might be outdated, but the fact that Steve knows about technology that happened while he was frozen is honestly more endearing than picking up on modern advances.

He's also pretty sure that while Steve wouldn't be on his level - very few people are - it wouldn't take him long to catch on. Chess is, at its heart, about tactics and war, and Tony knows damn well that Steve can strategize when he puts his mind to it.]

Simple folk, [Tony chuckles, shaking his head.] Sure, Rogers, if that's what you wanna call yourself. But this is how we're gonna end up playing something like Uno or Yahtzee, and that's kinda sad for two grown men.

Hey, at least it ain't Bingo. [ Steve says with a shrug and a smirk. Frankly, he's surprised he got a chance to crack that joke before Tony did. Steve is used to feeling like he's been left in the dust when Tony speaks, and it's a small thrill to be ahead of him now, even in this minor and inconsequential way. ]

You know, if being 'kinda sad for two grown men' to play is a disqualifying factor, that's gonna limit our options.

I mean, we'd have to get someone else to call the numbers, and it's really no fun unless you got cutthroat little old ladies playing ten cards at a time.

[How does Tony Stark know so much about bingo? It's a mystery.]

Well, only having two people kinda limits us, too. That's pretty much dominoes, dice, or a handful of card games.

[ Steve remembers laughing when Tony's words invoked a crystal clear mental image of the rec room he used to pass on his way to visit Peggy. It was never more raucous in that room than on Bingo Night, although the elderly men arguing in Spanish over dominoes came in close second. Something had possessed Steve to mention that the space where his group meets is also used to host the occasional bingo night, and then he took it further by suggesting that he and Tony should go sometime. In retrospect that had to be the first indication that Steve was getting tired, and sure enough he started yawning soon after.

The next morning, he wakes up and stares at the ceiling, reflecting on the previous night for all of five minutes before his nurse stops by, closely trailed by Bucky and Sam. That puts last night out of Steve's mind and he spends the next few hours catching them up on the last five years while they catch him up on the past few days.

When Tony appears in the doorway just before noon— at least, that's Steve's general idea of the time, which could be entirely off— he gets two very curious looks from his friends that he refuses to dignify. His cheeks heat up as Bucky and Sam make thin excuses for why they suddenly have to leave. He hasn't said anything to them, for all the good it did— they're still as subtle as a jackhammer and Tony is standing right there.

Once it's just the two of them, Steve's annoyance slides into something more like panic. For all that Tony said he would be back, deep down Steve couldn't believe it until he saw it. Consequentially he is totally unprepared. ]

Hey, you're back. How're you feeling? [ He just needs to act casual and focus the conversation on Tony and everything will be just fine. ]

[Tony's not surprised to see Barnes and Wilson there - in fact, he's more surprised they hadn't been there yesterday, trying to keep Steve from escaping the hospital. If nothing else, the three of them can agree on that, but he's also perfectly okay with their excuses for leaving. Tony knows he isn't the most popular guy among most of Steve's friends (or, for that matter, most of the Avengers), and that there's a good reason for that. He deserves it. Steve being strangely okay with his continued presence is a little more baffling, and he's trying hard not to dwell on it, lest he do something wrong and fuck it up (it's only a matter of time).]

Oh, you know. [He makes a vague gesture with his good hand.] Better than yesterday, still not enough to get them to let me go. [Or, judging by the haste with which he slides into the chair next to Steve's bed, not good enough to stand for long.] I might get Happy to smuggle in some pizza later, if you're interested.

[Which he assumes he is, because Steve and food, and because hospital food sucks. But for now, he takes his phone out of his jacket pocket and makes a few gestures to convert the screen to a projection.]

And I rigged up something for Pictionary. Figure we can manage that, at least.

[ The memory is just hazy enough that Steve would have written it off as a dream if Tony hadn't brought it up, but he does remember suggesting Pictionary before he dozed off. He must have already been half asleep to think that was a workable idea.

Except that Tony has apparently turned it into a workable idea in the handful of hours since he was last here, and Steve can't name how that makes him feel, but he feels it so much that his body seems barely able to contain it all. His eyes begin to itch and water, an obvious side effect of staring at the projection without blinking and nothing else whatsoever. ]

Wow, that's— [ He coughs to clear the sudden lump in his throat. Raising his non-gauze-covered index finger to the hologram, Steve begins drawing a few standard shapes just to get a feel for it. ]

This is amazing. You just threw this together? [ Despite the questioning inflection, there's no doubt in Steve's voice. This is a guy who invented time travel practically overnight; Pictionary is, quite literally, child's play. But as impressive as the how surely is, Steve is more concerned with the why. ]

Well, it's a pretty basic API. I had projection sketching already from my consoles back home, all I had to do was adapt it and tack on a timer and a word bank from the internet. Nothing too fancy, just basic sketching.

[You know, the kind of thing that Tony makes sound incredibly easy - because it is incredibly easy for him. Just some copying and pasting code, mostly. (And, yes, he could have made it fancier, but he didn't want to look like he was going overboard for Steve's sake, even though going overboard on ridiculous things is also what Tony does.)]

I mean, it was either come up with a game to play or spend the afternoon watching shitty talk shows. [Together, he means, and he actually wouldn't mind that at all, but they both tend to be restless at the best of times. Better to have something to keep them occupied, lest they cook up an idea for a jailbreak.] I did think about D&D, but I couldn't whip up a campaign overnight.

[ A crease etches itself into the center of Steve's brow as Tony speaks, but it isn't because he's struggling to keep up. Most of the time, Steve accepts that he will only understand about 30% of what Tony says. Right now, he isn't even trying to follow along; instead, Steve is processing the implication that Tony would have come back this afternoon even if it was just to watch daytime television.

The part of Steve that isn't crazy enough to hope writes it off as boredom. A mind like Tony's needs constant stimulation, so it should come as no surprise that he can't be confined to his own bed. As for why he keeps coming here specifically, well, Steve still hasn't eliminated the possibility that Tony thinks he owes a life debt of some sort. ]

Good call. I did some channel surfing earlier and Dr. Phil is already doing a special on family reunions. It was almost exclusively marriages where the wife vanished and the husband got with her friend. Or sister. Or mom. [ He shakes his head softly. If the past five years taught Steve anything, it's that there is no scale of global catastrophe that opportunists won't seize. ]

But back to Pictionary - how does it work? You said it's connected to the internet?

Oh man, just wait nine months and everyone'll have specials on whose kid it is. Real paternity test boom, lots of drama. It'll be a golden age of daytime tv.

[Tony sounds way too cheerful about this prospect, maybe because he finds it a little hilarious. You know, as long as he doesn't actually think too hard about the weird circumstances behind it all.]

Um- yeah, it's just got a basic word bank I pulled from a couple apps, so nothing too far out there. Tried to keep the pop culture level fairly low so you aren't trying to figure out how to draw ALF or something like that. [In fact, culling the database is probably what Tony spent the most time on out of everything; pretty much everything else was auto-compiled by FRIDAY.]

I'm familiar with ALF, actually, but that's all the more reason to be glad he's off the list. [ Steve gives an exaggerated shudder, pitying the design team tasked with bringing that hideous thing to life.

There is something about the way that Tony talks about considering Steve's knowledge of pop culture, or lack thereof, that Steve is careful not to read into. He's learned by now that Tony's actions tend to say a lot more than his words, but the casual way that he says it, as if it was the most obvious consideration, just a given— Steve is finding it surprisingly difficult not to fixate on that.

Steve clears his throat, a physical cue that he hopes can jolt and clear his thoughts, too. ] Should I go first? How do I generate a word?

You just press this button here and it'll pick a word for you.

[Tony gestures helpfully to the largest button on the interface, which has a blank card-like space above it.]

It starts the timer automatically when you pick a word, just like real Pictionary. You've got a minute to draw while I guess.

[He's a little eager to see Steve's artwork, even if it's just terrible Pictionary sketches. It's a part of Steve that he hasn't seen much of, something personal and totally unrelated to being Cap. A little intimate, although that could just be Tony reading way too much into it.]

[ Steve nods along intently as Tony explains, as if struggling to follow one of those highly theoretical ideas that only Tony, Bruce, and now Rocket seem capable of conceptualizing. It may not be rocket science, but it feels no less important, this ultimately insignificant game that Tony invented just to pass the time together.

After taking a deep breath to collect himself, he taps the button that Tony indicated, generates a prompt, and starts drawing.

When the timer announces he's up, Steve is left frowning at a mess of squiggly lines that don't come close to resembling his prompt: salad. Who knew lettuce could be so tricky to draw? ]

Um. Yeah. Maybe not my best work, [ he jokes. ]

[Tony watches intently as Steve draws, and...okay, wow, that's definitely not the skill level he expected, but maybe he's just getting used to the medium. He starts out at bicycle, makes his way to spaghetti, and ends up on-]

Orgy, [he declares, just as time runs out. Which he's fairly certain isn't in the word bank, but that's totally the vibe he's getting from Steve's drawing.]

Maybe you'd know how to draw a salad if you ate them. [But he's grinning as he flips the display and generates his own word, playground.]

[ If Steve's cheeks flush at Tony's guess, it is surely just professional embarrassment— after all, he was meant to be an artist once— and nothing else. Rolling his eyes, he says: ]

My metabolism would burn off a salad before I could even finish it. You're the engineer here, I don't have to tell you about energy efficiency.

[ That last part, he's incapable of saying without a smirk creeping onto his face, but then Tony is drawing and the competitive spirit overtakes Steve. ]

Uh. Hieroglyph? Or is that a bridge?

Bungee jumping?

[ Steve is almost resigned to losing this round, until Tony begins to draw what he instantly recognizes as a see-saw. With that context, the other shapes take on a new perspective and he shouts the answer just as Tony finishes up the slide: ] Oh, playground!

Edited (ignore me i just spotted a typo and couldn't help myself) 2021-03-15 13:21 (UTC)

[Tony gives Steve fingerguns when he finally guesses correctly, pleased that his drawing was apparently much easier to interpret. (Not that he'd be any more adept at drawing a salad, but he can pretend.)

And then he pauses.]

You know what? I didn't actually think the scoring part of this through.

[Yeah, okay, maybe he was too focused on trying to come up with something he could play with Steve where one of them (usually him) wouldn't have a clear advantage.]

You got any ideas?

Huh.

Good question.

[ Steve gives it a moment's thought, his brow creasing and lips pressing together in consideration. Knowing how competitive the two of them are, it's remarkable that keeping score didn't occur to anyone until now.

Then again, they were both knocked on the head recently. A lot. ]

Well, I can't in good conscience benefit from how bad my drawing was, so I'd say this round goes to you. You're the one who drew something recognizable.

Where would we be without you and your innate sense of fairness?

[Tony's voice is at least a little less acerbic than it would have been a week ago, though it's not entirely without its bite. Steve is inherently a better man than he is; it's simply a fact of the universe. That's why he'd been able to pick Mjolnir up in the battle against Thanos, and Tony doesn't begrudge him that. (He knows he'd never be worthy in a thousand years, no matter what he did.)

But at the same time, there's something almost fond in the sarcasm. In the mess that their lives have become, it's nice to see something as familiar as Steve and his innate sense of honor, or whatever Steve would call it.]

Go on, then. [Tony gestures to the screen.] Try to give me some real competition this time, Picasso.

Picasso was a Cubist, he'd be terrible at Pictionary.

[ The challenge serves its intended purpose of working Steve up, but not because of the competitive streak that has always existed between himself and Tony. This time, deep down, Steve knows that what's motivating him is a hopeful, pathetically misguided desire to impress. But he's in too deep not to try now, so Steve approaches this next prompt like sketching exercise and makes short, quick strokes on the screen, pulling the image together in a much more sure and organized fashion than his first attempt.

This one shouldn't be too hard for Tony: it's a pepper. ]

But isn't the thing about cubism being able to capture the essence of something well enough that someone knows what it is when they look at it?

[Actually, Tony doesn't know a damn thing about art history, but it sounds good. Like something the guy who's owned multiple Picassos might say. Pepper's always been the one who's really into art, the one who would make small talk with artists at gallery openings and museum exhibits. He just likes stuff that's either worth money or has his face on it.]

Toupee, uh- Donald Trump? [He makes a face as Steve keeps drawing, and then, speak of the devil-]

Oh! Pepper. Hey, that was better. I knew you had it in you. [He grins at Steve, clearly pleased. See? They can find something simple to do together that isn't bickering.]

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