shield | open post.

[ 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.]

It was more about playing with perspective; capturing a subject from multiple angles and viewpoints at once.

Or that's what I liked about it, anyway. I always thought it was fascinating how the more you presented the different dimensions and viewpoints of an object, the less recognizable it became.

[ Steve doubts that his takes on Cubism are truly compelling, but he appreciates Tony taking— or at least feigning— an interest anyway. Picking and choosing which parts of themselves were available to each other is part of what made them such a dysfunctional team before, so this has to be a step in the right direction. ]

You filtered out ALF but left Donald Trump? [ Steve grimaces in exaggerated disgust, which gives him something to do with his face other than grin back goofily, feeling much too satisfied with himself for a rough outline of a jalapeño. ]

Like getting to know someone, [Tony observes wryly.] The more you see, the more you realize you didn't know who they were in the first place.

[Which is definitely not any sort of analogy for anything at all.]

Hey, I took out the words from when you were on ice. You're on your own for the last decade of pop culture. [He grins cheekily as he spins the display back towards himself and taps the button for a new word.

When the word comes up, he snorts - in fact, there might even be a giggle in there somewhere, because Tony is an Extremely Mature Adult. He can't resist the quick scrawl of a dick on the screen, but he swipes it clean before Steve can start guessing.

He tries to actually draw something serious at first, but fails miserably at his attempt at a pipe organ, clears again, and quickly sketches out a heart, lungs, and something that is probably meant to be an internal organ. (It looks like a bean, so maybe it's a kidney or a liver. Tony's pretty vague on all those important things he's damaged over the years.)

...Also, the dick makes a valiant return in the last few seconds before time runs out.]

Yeah, [ Steve agrees with a thoughtful hum, definitely not catching on to any sort of comparison there.

His eyes instinctively follow Tony's hands, which is a terrible habit he picked up years ago, learned to hide just as quickly, and has never regretted more than in this moment. Tony may wipe away his first sketch before Steve can blurt out a guess, but he certainly saw it, and now he's finding it hard to focus on anything else.

Tony keeps drawing with no explanation— ] Uh, pan flute? Pipes? [ — or any apparent correlation between the first image and what now looks like... ] Eggplant?

[ He knows the answer must be obvious, but the dick drawing is still front of mind and all of Steve's brain power is presently focused on remaining collected in Tony's presence. ]

Organ. [Tony looks strangely proud of himself, in spite of failing to accurately recreate anything remotely resembling an organ. Maybe it's just his inner teenager pleased with drawing a dick.] Bullshit word to have in there, I know.

[Somehow, Tony doesn't seem to have any difficulty remaining collected, probably due to his innate immaturity.]

Although eggplant was a solid guess. And pan flute.

[Yes, he thinks the innuendo is hilarious.]

Says the guy who curated the list, [ Steve teases, grateful for the rapport between them that seems to come easier each time, because it saves him from having to cover for the fact that his brain is skipping like a scratched record. ]

What, no laying pipe innuendo? I'm disappointed.

[ He's still fighting a smirk as he flips the display and pulls up another prompt. When he gets the word dirty, it feels like the universe laughing directly in his face.

Steve loses a full fifteen seconds on the clock just staring into space, wondering how to get the word across without digging himself any deeper. In the end, the decides to throw the round and take the artistic approach, because as soon as the idea pops into his head, it's the only thing he wants to draw.

Although it's nowhere near what he could do on paper, and rather modest compared to the dirty comics that used to trade hands back in the day, Steve thinks Tony will appreciate the highly stylized pin-up girl. ]

That better not be Aunt Peggy, [Tony protests, covering his eyes dramatically once it becomes clear Steve's drawing a pinup girl.] I'm not looking if it is.

[Thankfully, it's not, judging by the peek in between his fingers, so he takes his hand down.] Porn? I'm pretty sure that's not in there. Also, not porn. Pretty woman, uh- [His mind gets stuck on Julia Roberts for some reason, but no, that movie falls squarely into the category of "under the ice time" for Steve, although one could argue it's a pop culture staple, and wow, Tony is too easily distracted for this.] Sexy?

[ Steve shoots a raised-brow look at Tony when he mentions Peggy, but his eyes shoot back to his drawing and stay there as Tony cycles through his remaining guesses. ]

Close. The word was dirty. I took some artistic liberty.

[ Of course, if Tony thought that he would bring up "Aunt Peggy" and they would just move on— well, he probably didn't think that. Nobody who has met Steve would think that.

Steve looks down, biting his lower lip, turning something over in his mind until finally he speaks up. ] You know, I used to think maybe that was some joke I wasn't in on, but you weren't kidding, were you? She was really Aunt Peggy to you.

Sunday mornings, she would take me to the range to teach me how to shoot, and then we'd go get brunch afterwards. I didn't know about SHIELD, obviously, I just thought she worked for the State Department. That's what she and Dad always told me.

[And it had been an easy lie to believe, because why would Tony have expected his dad and his adopted aunt to run a top-secret government agency? Peggy had always been good at keeping secrets.]

I mean, I knew about the whole- [he gestures vaguely at Steve] thing, but I didn't ask her much about the war. [About you, is the unspoken implication there, and it's only thanks to a quiet word from Jarvis in the early days of his Cap obsession that he hadn't, and probably a minor miracle that a much younger Tony had actually listened to him.] Although I do know that she really hated the Captain America radio show they had back in the day.

Yeah, I'll bet she did. [ Steve chuckles to himself as he imagines the affronted expression Peggy must have have worn whenever that program came on. Based on the surviving recordings he heard, Steve wasn't a fan himself, but he can imagine the appeal it had to a child raised on heavily censored war stories. ]

I wish I'd known, I would've... [ He trails off, unsure of exactly what he would have done. Maybe there's an alternate universe out there where Tony opened up sooner, and Steve was a little less walled off, and neither of them had to feel utterly alone as they watched her fade away. ]

Never mind. [ Steve shakes his head and waves the thought away with his good hand. If there's one thing he knows, it's that you can't go back. His brow creases when he turns his attention back to the holo-screen. ] So what's the score now? Any chance you were keeping tabs?

[It feels stupid now, but Tony hadn't wanted Steve to know about his connection to Peggy back then. He'd kept it secret, like everything else about his childhood. People might think he's an open book, but the reality is that Tony very carefully chooses what to make part of his public persona, part of the face that he shows the world. Everything else he locks up tight, hoarding what little privacy he can in a world that's determined to invade it. So it's not necessarily Steve in particular (though, yeah, it kind of is) - it's everyone. But coming back from the brink of death makes him feel vulnerable, and apparently part of that vulnerability is...opening up more? Yeah, it doesn't make sense to him, either, he just knows that he wants to talk to Steve instead of hoarding all his secrets like a dragon on a pile of gold.]

Uh- [Shit. He's almost forgotten about the game in the easy back and forth of conversation.] No idea, [Tony admits sheepishly. They'd been scoring completely arbitrarily, anyway, so what's it matter?]

[ The score wasn't important, but the fact that neither of them paid it any attention does feel significant. There was a time when Steve didn't think they would ever manage to occupy the same space again without Tony telling him off. Now that they've exceeded those wild expectations, they're deep in uncharted territory.

Steve fumbles around without a map and hopes for the best. Somehow, the tentative peace between them neither implodes or explodes. They just... keep getting along. Steve doesn't know what's changed— if he thought it was as simple as nearly sacrificing himself, he would have tried to take one for Tony years ago— but he isn't going to question it.

When Steve enters the gym a week and some change later, his first impulse is to give Tony a wide berth. Then he remembers that he doesn't have to and circles back around to where Tony is stretching. ]

How's the shoulder? [ Steve flexes his own hand as he asks, reaching into the side pocket of his gym bag for a pair of rolled up hand wraps. The serum has been working overtime; his main complaint now is how much the healing skin itches. ]

[It's not that Tony tries to keep bumping into Steve, it's just pure coincidence that they happen to end up in the same room fairly often - sure, Tony's got approximately a metric fuckton of paperwork and interviews and shit he can't just shove off on Pepper, but when he does have spare time, it's not totally unlikely for him to just show up wherever Steve is, or wherever Steve's about to be, assuming it's in the common areas. Which might be why he's in the gym, although he's ostensibly there to go through the exercises from his physical therapist (and maybe to try and get back into shape, or something like in shape).

Being in the gym, Tony's wearing an unzipped track jacket over a tank top, the scarring from his arc reactor peeking out just above the dip of the neckline. He's comfortable (more or less) with that scarring, but decidedly less so with the mangled mess of his arm. But since he's exercising, he can't cover the twisted wreckage of his hand with a gauntlet, like he's been doing lately. Instead, he tucks the hand behind his back at Steve's question, suddenly self-conscious.]

Oh, it's fine. [Tony gestures with his uninjured hand. His shoulder is not, in fact, fine, but he went right back to work after being held captive in a cave, and he's not going to let almost dying slow him down, even if it means he wrecks his goddamn liver eating pain reliever when it gets to be too much.]

You decide to take a break from eating me out of house and home? [He reaches behind his back with his other arm and starts to stretch the injured arm out, swearing quietly under his breath.]

[ It's almost too easy for Steve to pretend not to notice when Tony hides his hand; he has a shameful wealth of experience when it comes to hiding how closely his eyes follow Tony's movements. His gaze darts up at Tony casually, then back down as he hooks his thumb through the loop and pulls the wrap around the back of his hand, repeating the motion a few times and then starting to work his way between each finger. ]

You have multiple houses and homes, [ he points out, raising an eyebrow as his eyes settle back on Tony. His hands don't stop moving, muscle memory making quick work of the process even when he isn't looking. ] If anything, I'm eating you out of secluded Avengers compounds, which— [ Steve can't help wincing as the double meaning of his words sink in. Suddenly burning up from the relentless force of the infinity stones doesn't seem like such a terrible fate. ] Yeah, nevermind.

[Steve's innuendo comes as a welcome distraction from the pain, and Tony seizes it (metaphorically) with both hands, grinning impishly.]

You know, I thought I noticed a lack of sausage when I was making breakfast this morning. I suppose you've made serious inroads on the eggplant, too.

[At least he's not making any jokes about tossed salads?

(Yet.)]

[ Tony Stark seizing an opportunity to make a dirty joke is about as novel as the sun rising in the east, so Steve knows to keep looking down as he starts wrapping his other hand, periodically sparing a quick glance up but never making eye contact.

This is very shaky ground they're on, but since Steve is incapable of backing down first, he replies in kind. ] Yeah, I hope you weren't counting on having hot dogs, either.

Well, damn, there go my dinner plans.

[Here's the problem: Tony can't back down any more than Steve can, and especially not from a battle of innuendo. Minus the dirty jokes, it's the story of their life together. One of them challenges the other, neither one can back down first, and things just keep escalating until the inevitable explosive finish.

And it's never the good kind of explosive finish, either.]

Maybe I'll just have a big ol' banana split instead. If you haven't eaten all the bananas.

That's dessert, not dinner. [ As someone who takes full advantage his enhanced metabolism, Steve is perhaps the last person who gets to be an authority on what constitutes a healthy meal. But if Tony gets to poke fun at his appetite, then this too is fair game. ] And real bananas went extinct while I was under. What you call a banana, I call a depressing reminder of a banana.

[ As tempting as it is to leave it at that, Steve knows that Tony wouldn't let his tactical retreat go unnoticed. ] Have you tried the cucumber? I was a little worried about the firmness but they're still pretty juicy.

Maybe that's why we invented banana splits. To make them less depressing. [It's not like Tony has any idea when the dessert was invented, and also, more importantly, he doesn't care.] I sure like bananas a lot better when they're dripping with chocolate sauce.

[And somehow he actually manages to keep a straight face while saying that.]

Oh, yeah? I bet you like a thick, juicy pickle. One that squirts when you bite into it.

[It's really hard to keep his face expressionless right now, but Tony's determined to hold out in this hell of his own making.]

[ Steve gapes back for a few seconds before shaking his head into his hands, the cloth wraps scratching softly against his face. The word squirts should be off limits, he thinks. ]

You know I came here to exercise, right? Stop stoking my appetite. [ That he manages to say this with a straight face comes as a surprise even to Steve himself. He never would have guessed that years of practice being the stoic Captain America would pay off quite like this. It doesn't hurt that people always assume he's clenching his jaw (and that's a fair assumption a lot of the time) even when he's actually biting the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. ]

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