By the time that Tony wakes up in the morning, he's already feeling like death warmed over. It's the hangover, sure, but as he lays in bed for a moment while waiting for the headache and the nausea to ease up enough for him to get out of bed, he remembers. Not everything - thankfully it doesn't happen all at once - but he remembers. His talk with Steve. How things had been okay one moment, then the rest spiraled out of control so horribly that it makes him nauseous all over again, and for a moment it feels like he can't fucking breathe as the air escapes his lungs.
As much as he wants to stay in bed and ignore the world for the rest of the day, though, he knows he can't. He has work to do and, even if Lydia would probably be okay with him taking a day off if he admits how badly he needs it, the problem is simple. He would have to admit that he's not okay, and no. He's not ready for that. He doesn't want to revisit his feelings from last night because he already feels like shit about them as it is; the last thing he wants is to vocalize them.
So, he gets out of bed. It hurts, between the splitting headache that makes the room spin and the fact that his left knuckles are covered in an ugly combination of purple and yellow bruises, but he gets out of bed anyway. He showers, changes, and forces himself to look somewhat presentable because that's what Tony Stark does. He doesn't have superhuman strength, or supersonic speed, or supersoldier abilities, but he knows how to use masks and facades to hide how truly fucking awful he's feeling. Not much of a superpower, but hey. It's something, and for now he's clinging to that like his life depends on it.
And, in a way, it does. Today he's not the same social butterfly he had been last night, but it could be excused on the lack of booze as well. And, well, it can also be excused on the hangover he's dealing with. He keeps to himself as much as he can in the Commissary, and even more so in the morning briefing because the last thing he wants is to see Steve, and then he heads off to work. It's hard, working with one hand since his left isn't exactly cooperating considering how hard he had punched the railing by the waterfront, but he wants the distraction. He needs the distraction, and even the pain is enough to keep his attention from drifting too much to a corner of his brain that will only bring more nausea that has nothing to do with the lingering effects of the booze.
In the evening, Tony only leaves work to eat before making his way back to the waterfront and then maybe back to work. There's a perfectly good lab at HQ that he could go to, and that's an instinct that he almost follows, but no. Nope. There's no way in hell he's going to HQ, and so he tries to find other distractions. Maybe by tomorrow morning this sensation that is drowning him won't be so bad.
Open | Throughout the Day
As much as he wants to stay in bed and ignore the world for the rest of the day, though, he knows he can't. He has work to do and, even if Lydia would probably be okay with him taking a day off if he admits how badly he needs it, the problem is simple. He would have to admit that he's not okay, and no. He's not ready for that. He doesn't want to revisit his feelings from last night because he already feels like shit about them as it is; the last thing he wants is to vocalize them.
So, he gets out of bed. It hurts, between the splitting headache that makes the room spin and the fact that his left knuckles are covered in an ugly combination of purple and yellow bruises, but he gets out of bed anyway. He showers, changes, and forces himself to look somewhat presentable because that's what Tony Stark does. He doesn't have superhuman strength, or supersonic speed, or supersoldier abilities, but he knows how to use masks and facades to hide how truly fucking awful he's feeling. Not much of a superpower, but hey. It's something, and for now he's clinging to that like his life depends on it.
And, in a way, it does. Today he's not the same social butterfly he had been last night, but it could be excused on the lack of booze as well. And, well, it can also be excused on the hangover he's dealing with. He keeps to himself as much as he can in the Commissary, and even more so in the morning briefing because the last thing he wants is to see Steve, and then he heads off to work. It's hard, working with one hand since his left isn't exactly cooperating considering how hard he had punched the railing by the waterfront, but he wants the distraction. He needs the distraction, and even the pain is enough to keep his attention from drifting too much to a corner of his brain that will only bring more nausea that has nothing to do with the lingering effects of the booze.
In the evening, Tony only leaves work to eat before making his way back to the waterfront and then maybe back to work. There's a perfectly good lab at HQ that he could go to, and that's an instinct that he almost follows, but no. Nope. There's no way in hell he's going to HQ, and so he tries to find other distractions. Maybe by tomorrow morning this sensation that is drowning him won't be so bad.