Despite Tony's apparent attitude that he would be fine if Steve were to go into work mode right now, internally it's almost as if he's waiting for the other shoe to drop as Steve processes what happened. He can't help it. After what has happened, it's impossible for him not to. He hadn't expected for Steve to swear that he wouldn't look at him as an enemy ever again, but somehow not hearing it still makes his insides go cold. Which is even a bigger reason why now, as he waits for Steve to hear what happened yesterday, he expects it to happen all over again. Because, at that moment, he realizes that even if Steve would have promised that he would never see him as an enemy again, he wouldn't have believed him.
It's why, now, he's still giving him an out. It's why he's telling him that he can go be whatever the hell he needs to be as long as it's away from him.
It's why, even as Steve says that he doesn't need to anymore, when he looks up it's not to ask for an explanation. His eyes don't reflect curiosity or confusion at his words; instead, along with that guarded expression that is still reflecting in his eyes, he can only watch him as if trying to figure out if he's telling the truth or not.
He's still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It's not a matter of picking fights right now - Tony's too tired for that, actually. It shows in that he's not even pulling away from the way that he's holding his hand, even if minutes ago he would have yanked that same hand back as if Steve was hurting him. The fact is, that Tony really has carved himself open for Steve. Twice now. Once as a friend, and now as something more, and doing so has made him expose himself more than he has ever felt comfortable with. For someone as guarded as he is, someone as weary to trust people as he is, it's hard to just take Steve's words now at face value and accept them like it's not a big deal. It was a big deal, he can still feel that hollow feeling in his chest that has nothing to do with the arc reactor, and it's in this moment that it's almost as if he's balancing out if he's willing to give him a third shot.
Ultimately, when he feels that squeeze, Tony's eyes finally move from Steve's down to their hands. Earlier Steve had asked him if he hated him, and Tony's response still rings true right now - if he hated him, this would be so much easier. If he hated him at all, he would be able to say no to this invitation. He would tell him it's too late. That he should go. That he's done, that they're done.
The problem is, he doesn't hate him. He's angry, yes, but hate? No, he doesn't hate Steve. Even now, after everything, he doesn't hate him. The bitter side of him hates himself for it sometimes, but apparently in the process of carving himself open for Steve, he had managed to get under his skin. He had managed to make him feel something that he swore he would never want to feel again, and... God, he wishes he could hate him for that. Because he doesn't want to fall in love with him, but apparently that's where he's at, because when Steve tugs at his hand, Tony moves but not towards the door. Not yet. Instead, he presses his forehead against Steve's shoulder, but not to fight him. He just wants one moment, one second where he doesn't have to think. One moment that should have happened 48 hours ago, but that he needs even if the fire of the anger that began that same night is still trying to die down inside of him.
For a moment, though, he just needs this. He feels weak for it, and maybe he'll regret it later, but he just stays quiet as the defensive stance on his shoulders finally relaxes a little as Steve's body heat finally feels as if it's momentarily erasing how cold he has been feeling for days now.
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It's why, now, he's still giving him an out. It's why he's telling him that he can go be whatever the hell he needs to be as long as it's away from him.
It's why, even as Steve says that he doesn't need to anymore, when he looks up it's not to ask for an explanation. His eyes don't reflect curiosity or confusion at his words; instead, along with that guarded expression that is still reflecting in his eyes, he can only watch him as if trying to figure out if he's telling the truth or not.
He's still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It's not a matter of picking fights right now - Tony's too tired for that, actually. It shows in that he's not even pulling away from the way that he's holding his hand, even if minutes ago he would have yanked that same hand back as if Steve was hurting him. The fact is, that Tony really has carved himself open for Steve. Twice now. Once as a friend, and now as something more, and doing so has made him expose himself more than he has ever felt comfortable with. For someone as guarded as he is, someone as weary to trust people as he is, it's hard to just take Steve's words now at face value and accept them like it's not a big deal. It was a big deal, he can still feel that hollow feeling in his chest that has nothing to do with the arc reactor, and it's in this moment that it's almost as if he's balancing out if he's willing to give him a third shot.
Ultimately, when he feels that squeeze, Tony's eyes finally move from Steve's down to their hands. Earlier Steve had asked him if he hated him, and Tony's response still rings true right now - if he hated him, this would be so much easier. If he hated him at all, he would be able to say no to this invitation. He would tell him it's too late. That he should go. That he's done, that they're done.
The problem is, he doesn't hate him. He's angry, yes, but hate? No, he doesn't hate Steve. Even now, after everything, he doesn't hate him. The bitter side of him hates himself for it sometimes, but apparently in the process of carving himself open for Steve, he had managed to get under his skin. He had managed to make him feel something that he swore he would never want to feel again, and... God, he wishes he could hate him for that. Because he doesn't want to fall in love with him, but apparently that's where he's at, because when Steve tugs at his hand, Tony moves but not towards the door. Not yet. Instead, he presses his forehead against Steve's shoulder, but not to fight him. He just wants one moment, one second where he doesn't have to think. One moment that should have happened 48 hours ago, but that he needs even if the fire of the anger that began that same night is still trying to die down inside of him.
For a moment, though, he just needs this. He feels weak for it, and maybe he'll regret it later, but he just stays quiet as the defensive stance on his shoulders finally relaxes a little as Steve's body heat finally feels as if it's momentarily erasing how cold he has been feeling for days now.