[ Unaware of what is happening behind the bathroom door, Steve has also committed himself to not making any noise, so when he feels another sharp pang in his palm, quickly following by an inexplicably raw feeling in his lower lip, he bits back a yelp and turns it into a grunt. A pretty loud grunt, but just a grunt nevertheless. ]
[Well, fuck, that's one hypothesis proven wrong. Tony isn't sure how he's going to look Steve in the face to explain this one, especially since his face is covered with tears.]
Goddamnit. Will you fucking get in here and help me clean this shit up?
[Tony pitches his voice so Steve can hear it, though he sounds a little strained. It's probably, you know, the gaping wound in his hand.]
-it's not literal shit, [he elaborates after a moment of thought.]
[ Steve feels like someone got a hold of his voodoo doll, which, given the life he leads, is not entirely implausible. It can wait, though, because he can hear the urgency in Tony's voice and he's jumping out of bed even before the reassurance that follows. ]
I assumed as much, but thanks for clari— Jesus, Tony, what happened here? [ He's still taking in the bloody scene; it doesn't click right away that he's looking at a mirror image of what he just felt. ]
[Tony shows bloody teeth in a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. The smile's a little manic - blame the pain endorphins hitting his brain - but also very much one of his masking smiles, an expression that isn't quite genuine. In this case, it's an instinctive reaction to fall back on, something to reassure Steve that he's all right.
(He is very much not all right, judging from the blood dripping from his hand onto the sink.)]
Just gonna run some cold water over thi- [Tony reaches to the faucet and turns it on while he speaks, and the water hits the wound and turns his voice into an undignified yelp-] ohhhhjesusfuck-
[ Steve hisses again when the pain stabs through his palm, but he pushes it away, balls his hand into a fist at his side and puts it out of his mind. Helping Tony with the bleeding is more urgent than whatever is happening with him; there will be time to figure that out later. ]
I know it's not my forte, but this doesn't look very scientific. [ With the hand that isn't acting up, Steve reaches for Tony's wrist and turns it gently, giving himself a better glimpse at the gash in Tony's palm. ] This might need stitches.
[Tony sounds remarkably cavalier about the wound itself, once the pain ebbs to a more manageable throb. The cold water slows the bleeding and, as a plus, numbs the wound a little.]
I've had worse papercuts.
[Maybe he's exaggerating a little, but Tony feels like that's necessary in front of a guy who jumps out of planes regularly. He has to redeem his masculinity somehow.]
Stitches, [ Steve repeats, undeterred. He releases Tony's hand to dig around in a drawer and returns with a suture kit, which he props open next to the sink. ] See? We don't even need a doctor. This'll be quick.
You absolutely don't have anaesthetic in there, do you?
[Of course he doesn't, because it's Steve. The man probably just grits his teeth and stitches his own wounds. Hell, he probably uses actual catgut for sutures.
Fine, whatever. Tony figures he did this to himself (literally).]
First you've had worse paper cuts, now you need anesthetic? [ Steve raises a brow in Tony's direction before returning to the task of prepping his materials. He does regret not having anesthetic, even though he had no reason to anticipate needing it when he got this kit for himself. He'll have to stock it in case of future emergencies. You never know when a man of unparalleled genius will cut his hand open in your bathroom.
He leaves the water running over the wound— it's doing a fine job of flushing the blood away— as he finally goes in with the needle. As soon as he punctures Tony's skin, the pain in his palm returns with a sharpness and he pulls back, dropping the needle into the sink. ] Shit!
Uh. Yeah, something like that. [ It doesn't sound very convincing, but Steve still doesn't understand what's happening and doubts he could explain it. He doesn't want to worry Tony with this, especially when there's only one of them actively bleeding here.
Steve picks up the needle, sanitizes it under stream of rubbing alcohol, and goes in again. The pain returns as soon as he starts suturing but he grits his teeth and tries to put it out of his mind. ]
[It's not convincing at all, and Tony's starting to wonder if his original hypothesis was right and Steve was just too fucking stoic to make a sound. He can tell that there's something off while Steve stitches him up, and halfway through, Tony reaches out to put a hand on his arm.]
You can feel it, can't you?
[Orrrrr maybe he's just crazy. Could be that one.]
[ Slowly, Steve turns to look at Tony. The pieces start to fall into place, like the details that bring an oil painting into focus. As crazy as it seems, he knows exactly what Tony is asking. ]
Is that why you did this? [ He gestures down at Tony's half-sutured palm in disbelief. Surely there was a better way to go about it, or at least one that involved less bleeding. ]
Yeah, I thought you'd yell like a normal person experiencing sudden inexplicable pain. Shoulda known you'd be stubborn about it. You had me thinking I'd fucked up my hand for nothing.
[Which, frankly, would have been more annoying than discovering a mysterious link to Steve that probably can't be explained by science. Ugh, is he going to have to consult Strange on this?]
You know, a simple slap probably would've done the trick. [ A beat passes as Steve tries to process what he's just learned and what it means for them. Realizing that the newfound ease between himself and Tony might be the result of some unseen force is surprisingly disappointing. He decides to go for levity even as a sinking feeling hits the pit of his stomach. ] Besides, I thought we'd established I'm not much of a screamer.
You only say that 'cause I haven't had a chance to really go to town on you yet.
[In spite of the throbbing pain in his hand, Tony smirks at Steve, and the dark gleam in his eyes and the twist of arousal in the pit of his stomach have absolutely nothing to do with Steve's libido. Boy, he really regrets using his good hand for that little experiment now; it's going to make things a lot more difficult.]
Uh huh. You planning to put your money where your mouth is, or is that all talk? [ Egging Tony on is easy and familiar, especially now that there's no real bite behind it. They're far past the point of having to prove anything to each other.
A spark of arousal shoots through Steve, seemingly out of nowhere, except that now he knows the likely source, strange as it still is to even consider. He looks back at Tony with a brow raised. ] Was that you?
Uh, well, I was hitting on you, so yes. And I absolutely will put my money where my mouth is, but maybe not today.
[They can't all be super-soldiers, and also Tony's still bleeding in the sink. If they get trapped in another feedback loop-
Actually, he's probably going to spend the rest of his life getting stuck in horny feedback loops with Steve, and somehow, Tony can't bring himself to complain about it. Especially since Steve's the reason why he has any life to look forward to.]
If you can't stitch it up, I'm still open to the glue option. Seriously, Steve, they do use it in hospitals.
[And maybe Steve's okay with feeling the needle and repressing his pain like a man, but Tony - ironically enough - doesn't want to make him do that.]
[ Steve doesn't have the old-fashioned sense of distrust for new technologies that people often expect of him, but he still hesitates, considering the options in front of him. Ultimately it comes down to pain for Steve too: the possibility that Tony might actually be suggesting an alternative because taking stitches without anesthetic is a bitch, but he can't flat lout admit to any weakness in front of Steve. ]
It's gonna look weird, [ he notes as he digs through his first aid for the tube of liquid stitches. He twists off the cap, bites off the security seal, and reaches for Tony's hand again. A pang shoots through his own palm as Steve squeezes both sides of Tony's wound closer together. ] Sorry. Almost done.
Oh, no, a weird-looking wound on my palm, however will I cope? [Totally deadpan, because, gosh, what a novel experience.]
-okay, why the fuck did you try stitching it first if you had liquid stitches all along, you jackass? [Tony just huffs indignantly, because his irritation gives him something to focus on besides the pain. (He and pain are old friends by now, but that doesn't mean he won't swallow a fistful of aspirin at the first opportunity.)] God, you are the worst doctor.
I forgot it was even in there. [ Steve replies with a shrug. He has rarely had occasion to use the kit in his bathroom: with exception for injuries severe enough to land him in the hospital, the serum takes care of healing more efficiently than stitches would.
He hums a laugh as Tony continues to criticize his first aid skills. ]
You're not the best patient yourself, you know.
[ Steve examines Tony's wound with a critical eye once he is finished applying the sutures. He can feel the phantom sting in his own palm. ]
I think there's some topical analgesic in here, if you want?
[ Instead of waiting for an answer, Steve starts digging around in the kit for something to soothe the pain. ]
I'm never going to be able to hide anything again. Every time I stub my toe, you're going to be there hovering to make sure I'm all right.
[Part of him insists that maybe having someone to take care of him wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, especially not if it's Steve. But Tony's also stubborn enough to think about all the times he's lied about minor injuries on missions - things Steve might sideline him for, like bruised ribs - and consider the repercussions of that.
But despite his complaining (which might have a note of fondness to it), Tony doesn't pull back. Instead, he keeps his hand where it is and continues to let Steve doctor him.]
You think this is permanent? [ The question comes out of curiosity. Genius though he may be, Tony's disdain for the mystical arts is well known, so Steve is prepared to take any and all of Tony's preliminary theories with a grain of salt.
After spraying something for the pain over Tony's palm, Steve finally gives him back his hand. ] There. All better. [ He can't help the sappy grin that crosses his lips as he says it, so he tries to hide it by turning away to busy himself storing away the first aid kit. ]
Dunno, I'll have to - [dramatic sigh, ugh] call Strange.
[Just because he and the sorcerer are on marginally better terms now than when they first met doesn't mean that Tony enjoys the thought of being lectured about an invisible force that doesn't have the decency to obey a single goddamn scientific law. It's like being stuck with himself, a fate worse than death.]
Hopefully we can talk him into doing a house call.
[Tony does his best to rinse his slightly numb hand off in the sink. Which, okay, fucking hurts anyway, but he can't just walk around with a bloody hand all day. He can't even hide in Steve's room and let him fuck him all day, although the idea has merit. Zero good hands tends to limit his contribution to sex, and Tony really doesn't want to risk ripping his stitches. They'll have to get Rhodey to stitch him up next - or, worse yet, Sam - and he's really not ready for that talk yet.]
We should probably put clothes on and eat something at some point.
Shouldn't be too big of an ask for someone who travels by portal. [ Steve says with a shrug, truly naive to the extent of Strange's grouchiness. At Tony's suggestion, he shoots a look between them, lightly startled to remember they're both still naked. Between Tony's injury and their unexplained mystical connection, Steve almost managed to forget that other earth-shattering development between them.
He peeks around the bathroom door until he gets a line of sight on the digital alarm clock. (Purely ornamental; Steve has never once had to set it.) ]
Yeah, good idea. The super soldier hunger pangs are gonna start any minute now, and I think you've suffered enough.
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Goddamnit. Will you fucking get in here and help me clean this shit up?
[Tony pitches his voice so Steve can hear it, though he sounds a little strained. It's probably, you know, the gaping wound in his hand.]
-it's not literal shit, [he elaborates after a moment of thought.]
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I assumed as much, but thanks for clari— Jesus, Tony, what happened here? [ He's still taking in the bloody scene; it doesn't click right away that he's looking at a mirror image of what he just felt. ]
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[Tony shows bloody teeth in a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. The smile's a little manic - blame the pain endorphins hitting his brain - but also very much one of his masking smiles, an expression that isn't quite genuine. In this case, it's an instinctive reaction to fall back on, something to reassure Steve that he's all right.
(He is very much not all right, judging from the blood dripping from his hand onto the sink.)]
Just gonna run some cold water over thi- [Tony reaches to the faucet and turns it on while he speaks, and the water hits the wound and turns his voice into an undignified yelp-] ohhhhjesusfuck-
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I know it's not my forte, but this doesn't look very scientific. [ With the hand that isn't acting up, Steve reaches for Tony's wrist and turns it gently, giving himself a better glimpse at the gash in Tony's palm. ] This might need stitches.
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[Tony sounds remarkably cavalier about the wound itself, once the pain ebbs to a more manageable throb. The cold water slows the bleeding and, as a plus, numbs the wound a little.]
I've had worse papercuts.
[Maybe he's exaggerating a little, but Tony feels like that's necessary in front of a guy who jumps out of planes regularly. He has to redeem his masculinity somehow.]
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You absolutely don't have anaesthetic in there, do you?
[Of course he doesn't, because it's Steve. The man probably just grits his teeth and stitches his own wounds. Hell, he probably uses actual catgut for sutures.
Fine, whatever. Tony figures he did this to himself (literally).]
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He leaves the water running over the wound— it's doing a fine job of flushing the blood away— as he finally goes in with the needle. As soon as he punctures Tony's skin, the pain in his palm returns with a sharpness and he pulls back, dropping the needle into the sink. ] Shit!
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[Don't ask about Tony's logic, really. He's the one who cut himself with scissors to begin with.
Tony frowns when Steve drops the needle into the sink, leaning in closer to peer at him.]
Slippery fingers?
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Steve picks up the needle, sanitizes it under stream of rubbing alcohol, and goes in again. The pain returns as soon as he starts suturing but he grits his teeth and tries to put it out of his mind. ]
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You can feel it, can't you?
[Orrrrr maybe he's just crazy. Could be that one.]
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Is that why you did this? [ He gestures down at Tony's half-sutured palm in disbelief. Surely there was a better way to go about it, or at least one that involved less bleeding. ]
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[Which, frankly, would have been more annoying than discovering a mysterious link to Steve that probably can't be explained by science. Ugh, is he going to have to consult Strange on this?]
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[In spite of the throbbing pain in his hand, Tony smirks at Steve, and the dark gleam in his eyes and the twist of arousal in the pit of his stomach have absolutely nothing to do with Steve's libido. Boy, he really regrets using his good hand for that little experiment now; it's going to make things a lot more difficult.]
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A spark of arousal shoots through Steve, seemingly out of nowhere, except that now he knows the likely source, strange as it still is to even consider. He looks back at Tony with a brow raised. ] Was that you?
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[They can't all be super-soldiers, and also Tony's still bleeding in the sink. If they get trapped in another feedback loop-
Actually, he's probably going to spend the rest of his life getting stuck in horny feedback loops with Steve, and somehow, Tony can't bring himself to complain about it. Especially since Steve's the reason why he has any life to look forward to.]
If you can't stitch it up, I'm still open to the glue option. Seriously, Steve, they do use it in hospitals.
[And maybe Steve's okay with feeling the needle and repressing his pain like a man, but Tony - ironically enough - doesn't want to make him do that.]
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It's gonna look weird, [ he notes as he digs through his first aid for the tube of liquid stitches. He twists off the cap, bites off the security seal, and reaches for Tony's hand again. A pang shoots through his own palm as Steve squeezes both sides of Tony's wound closer together. ] Sorry. Almost done.
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-okay, why the fuck did you try stitching it first if you had liquid stitches all along, you jackass? [Tony just huffs indignantly, because his irritation gives him something to focus on besides the pain. (He and pain are old friends by now, but that doesn't mean he won't swallow a fistful of aspirin at the first opportunity.)] God, you are the worst doctor.
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He hums a laugh as Tony continues to criticize his first aid skills. ]
You're not the best patient yourself, you know.
[ Steve examines Tony's wound with a critical eye once he is finished applying the sutures. He can feel the phantom sting in his own palm. ]
I think there's some topical analgesic in here, if you want?
[ Instead of waiting for an answer, Steve starts digging around in the kit for something to soothe the pain. ]
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[Part of him insists that maybe having someone to take care of him wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, especially not if it's Steve. But Tony's also stubborn enough to think about all the times he's lied about minor injuries on missions - things Steve might sideline him for, like bruised ribs - and consider the repercussions of that.
But despite his complaining (which might have a note of fondness to it), Tony doesn't pull back. Instead, he keeps his hand where it is and continues to let Steve doctor him.]
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After spraying something for the pain over Tony's palm, Steve finally gives him back his hand. ] There. All better. [ He can't help the sappy grin that crosses his lips as he says it, so he tries to hide it by turning away to busy himself storing away the first aid kit. ]
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[Just because he and the sorcerer are on marginally better terms now than when they first met doesn't mean that Tony enjoys the thought of being lectured about an invisible force that doesn't have the decency to obey a single goddamn scientific law. It's like being stuck with himself, a fate worse than death.]
Hopefully we can talk him into doing a house call.
[Tony does his best to rinse his slightly numb hand off in the sink. Which, okay, fucking hurts anyway, but he can't just walk around with a bloody hand all day. He can't even hide in Steve's room and let him fuck him all day, although the idea has merit. Zero good hands tends to limit his contribution to sex, and Tony really doesn't want to risk ripping his stitches. They'll have to get Rhodey to stitch him up next - or, worse yet, Sam - and he's really not ready for that talk yet.]
We should probably put clothes on and eat something at some point.
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He peeks around the bathroom door until he gets a line of sight on the digital alarm clock. (Purely ornamental; Steve has never once had to set it.) ]
Yeah, good idea. The super soldier hunger pangs are gonna start any minute now, and I think you've suffered enough.
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