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alphalogs2017-03-26 03:21 pm
Daycycle 132 [Mar 26 - Apr 1]
daycycle 132
[Mar 26 - Apr 1]
[OOC Plotting for this Daycycle can be found here.]
Early, Early Morning [0000 - 0600]
At 0400, Clint Barton and Parker will be arrested and charged with treason. All former roommates will be questioned for several hours before being sedated and returned to their room before 0600. Former roommates in question will not remember the arrests or their questioning when they wake, though they may feel the lingering active effects of the sedative for several hours into their day.
The memory of those arrested ever being at Alpha will be erased with varying degrees of success from all those they came into contact with.
Morning [0800 - 0900] — All Troubleshooters Report for Duty
No Specials have been selected for today's mission.
Afternoon [0900 - 1600] — Service Firm Positions
All Troubleshooters not assigned a mission should report to their Service Firm for their daily duties, unless specifically assigned a different shift.
At 1000, it will be discovered that certain foods distributed among the Citizens have been contaminated with an unknown opiate, most likely by the Mystic Secret Society. Unfortunately, this discovery takes place after breakfast has already been served and effects all clearance levels and citizens, including Specials. Only some may have ingested the contaminated food, but the side effects that have been observed so far include, but are not limited to:
Euphoria
The inability to falsify information.
Drastic and almost impossible mood swings, from pure elation to devastating depression or anger in a matter of seconds.
Elation only
Moodiness only
Psychedelic symptoms, such as seeing colors or moving pictures
A nearly uncontrollable urge to keep moving
Lethargy
Random thinking/Inability to focus
Spontaneous giggling
And others.
An investigation has been opened to look into possible suspects to be held responsible, but until then it is advised that Citizens make an effort to avoid contaminated food, although it isn't possible to tell the difference between tampered stock and untampered stock.
Evening [1600 - 2200] — Citizen Improvement
All Alpha citizens are encouraged to better themselves through Alpha’s wide variety of educational, entertainment and cultural opportunities offered each evening. Attending these sanctioned events are not mandatory, but is highly encouraged by The Computer. Citizens choosing not to take advantage of these opportunities, have a growing number of other options available to them in how to spend their hard earned credits and free time.
Alpha Curfew Restrictions
All Alpha citizens should be in their quarters within the Wagon Wheel by 2200, unless they’ve been given permission from a GREEN or higher clearance level citizen. Sleeping Aid gas is dispelled each night in the Wagon Wheel at 2200 to assist citizens in getting a productive sleeping period.
Confession Booths
There are hundreds of confession booths available around Alpha Complex if a citizen would like to communicate directly with the computer. Please use these confession booths to report mission statuses, report treason or terrorist acts, unregistered mutants, confess your trespasses against Alpha Complex, request propaganda or speak with Your Friend, The Computer, at any time.
Closed to Tony, evening
And honestly, Steve isn't surprised. What happened at the hospital had left part of him feeling bent out of shape. He can't imagine how much worse Tony probably feels, especially since- well. A lot of things.
In the end, that's why Steve gives him space. He doesn't call or text or try to force his way into Tony's life for 24 hours. It helps, obviously, that they're now also attempting to track some kind of brainwasher. It also 'helps' that the last time he saw Tony, all his movements felt like him cringing at the sight of Steve. So yeah, space.
But Steve's learned this particular lesson before. Yes, The investigation is urgent — especially since it now sees like he's running two — but the last time he gave Tony space, it hadn't been the right thing to do. Steve knows now that if he always gives Tony more space, it not only gives the wrong impression, but nothing between them would ever get resolved.
And Steve cares. He cares enough to make sure they talk. To make sure things get resolved.
He does check on Tony once, on 132, even if he doesn't try in any way to make his presence known. Just a quick pass through bot processing, not even into Tony's workspace but just a look through the door. Just to make sure he was alive and healthy and there. Not missing. That's all Steve needed to know, and once he saw Tony working, he left.
But they're bordering on 48 hours now, and two whole days feels like Steve's limit. Which is why, in the end, despite how easily he could have spent the rest of the night with Bucky, he doesn't. He comes here instead, and stands right in front of Tony's new door. ORANGE now. He stares at it for a few seconds, taking a deep breath, thinking through what he knows he wants to say.
And then he knocks.
no subject
He hadn't been able to concentrate, though, and once his shift ended, he had set out to look for more answers. Maybe if he walked through a hallway, or saw different things, then maybe he would be triggered. Maybe he would remember. Maybe he could finally piece something together.
Except, there was another problem. Somewhere in between, apparently he had lost time again, because when he had come to, he was leaving from his shift and according to his PDC...it had already been 24 hours later. For a moment he had found himself completely dazed at the realization, as if something had hit him out of nowhere, and instead of going to HQ or contacting anyone, he just rushed back to his room.
That's really the only reason why he's there when Steve knocks a few hours later. And, ironically enough, his back is being pressed against the door as he sits on the floor. He has been trying to think, figure out what the hell has been happening with him. It's a small consolation that he hadn't found himself covered in blood again, or carrying some sort of weapon that he doesn't recognize, but it still leaves him completely unsettled to know that he lost a whole damn day. How could that even be possible? No matter how hard he tries to remember what could have happened, it's as if he keeps hitting a wall.
When he hears the knock, Tony goes still only because he has been drowning in his own thoughts so much that he hasn't quite realized what time it is, and once he checks the PDC he finds himself wondering if he could get away with not answering the door. There can only be two people that could possibly be knocking, and while he has no problem in taking a shot and seeing if it's Natasha, he doesn't know if he can face Steve. Not right now. He's still angry - god, he feels that anger burning in his veins in a way that he can't get rid of - but after everything that has happened since yesterday (since he shot Natasha), he just doesn't know if he has it in him to talk.
They have to, though. He knows that damn well, and he knows Rogers enough that he knows that he'll probably keep insisting until he agrees to see him, so after a moment he finally gets to his feet and sighs loudly under his breath before he pulls the door open. His hair is disheveled from how many times he has raked his fingers through his hair trying to think, but he doesn't bother fixing it. Not right now, and while the anger he had felt two nights ago is still reflecting in his eyes, it's easy to see how worn down he feels, especially as he speaks. "What do you want, Steve?"
no subject
There's a lot of ways he could answer that question, all of which would be honest, starting with a single word:
You.
Or, to see how you're doing.
Or, to fix whatever's happened between us.
Or, "To talk." A beat. "Can I come in?" Because every time he's asked a question like that, Tony's never said no. He hopes that pattern doesn't break today.
And Steve sees the hair and the weariness and the anger. The last two he can even hear in Tony's voice. But Steve ... he doesn't project so many different emotions. He just has one: That he wants to be here with him.
He also wants to hold Tony, but while Steve might not know anything about how this works, at least he knows better than to start with that.
no subject
He doesn't say it, but the word is dangerously close to escape from his lips as he keeps a hand on the doorknob. He's almost even ready to not say anything and just slam the door shut, but instead he just stays silent for what feels like a small eternity before he moves aside. No, he doesn't feel ready to talk to him by any means of the imagination, but it's not like it changes things, right?
Once Steve walks inside, he finally lets the door swing close. It slams a little louder than normal, but he doesn't apologize for it. Instead, he rubs the back of his neck as he tries to hide the way that his hand is shaking a little, and while he really doesn't want to even look at him, he does. If anyone would have told him three days ago that he would be here, feeling like this all over again, he would have said that wasn't possible. That he and Steve had gotten past that, that things were good - great between them, but...
Here they are, and it feels like the hollow spot in his chest is only making him implode even more.
"I haven't figured out anything else, if that's what you're here about." Steve had wanted to be all business last time, right? Well, he almost points out with his tone as best as he can, that's what they can do. "Still working on it."
no subject
But after a few endless seconds tick by, Tony moves aside and Steve steps in.
The door slams behind him and Steve hears it for what it is, but he doesn't react. Instead, he only glances around the room for a second, just to see if anyone is here, before he turns back to Tony, who's already begun to give him an explanation that's meant to get him to leave. So Steve ignores it, completely.
"Tony, do you-" There's a lot of ways for him to finish that question too, but unlike most people who look at the ground or bite their lip or even rake their hands through their hair, Steve doesn't fidget. He just pauses as he looks right at you. But this time, it doesn't last longer than a half second before Steve takes a step closer to try again. There's still a decent five or six feet between them. "Tony do you hate me?"
no subject
He doesn't let himself think about that, though. The last thing he wants is for Steve to see him any more vulnerable than what he has already made himself, something that is pissing him off even more, and he has to force himself to actually breathe.
At Steve's question, though, he stares at him in disbelief. Not only because this is the last thing he could have expected him to say, but--
No. No, he's not going there.
"If I hated you, your reaction from two nights ago wouldn't have stung the way it did." He almost spits out the words, because it had been more than a sting. It hurt, but again, he refuses to admit that even if the only reason he's reacting the way he is is because he's hurt.
"Are you sure I'm me, though? Maybe you should keep your distance, just in case."
no subject
Some part of him is ready for Tony to confirm it. To tell him that he hates him, because that part of Steve has always blamed himself for Tony's unhappiness ever since he chose to hide who killed Tony's parents. It probably doesn't even matter in the long run, what they fight about. If Tony ever does hate him, Steve will always feel like Tony has every justification.
But Tony doesn't say that. Tony doesn't hate him, and even as those next words carry a sting of their own, something rough around the edges melts away from Steve's eyes. His stupid, stubborn determination is still there, but a fear he wasn't even fully conscious of has left, and Steve feels like he's breathing in a way he hasn't for the past 48 hours. Maybe the reason Steve wasn't anxious is because he was too ready to fight for something he didn't want to lose.
That last sentence though, gets Steve out of his head, out of this unexpected sense of relief he'd just felt, and back into the moment.
"Tony," he says, his tone closer to a plead than an expression of exasperation, knowing he shouldn't fall into this hole that Tony's just dug for him. But he can't help but walk along the border. "Romanoff had just told me that you'd shot her three times in the chest. In the chest. That's further than the best assassins in the world have ever gotten. By far. I wasn't sure I could protect her from that kinda skill. I didn't-" His voice rises a little right there, but Steve exhales a quick sigh as he looks back at Tony with furrowed brows, and his voice lowers back down. "I couldn't let the fact that it was you change anything. What if you had been pretending? I couldn't let Natasha die. And I couldn't let you wake up again as her murderer. Not if I had an opportunity to stop it."
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The problem is that right now, he's not being logical. He hates it, because he absolutely hates how his emotions are taking over all over again, but apparently Steve has a knack for that. After all, hadn't that been what had caused such a clusterfuck in Siberia?
And it certainly doesn't help that he feels just how he did after that day. Overexposed. Overly vulnerable. It feels like he's in quicksand, and he's slipping all over again.
"If I had been pretending," he echoes with a hollow sound that is supposed to be a dry chuckle under his breath. It feels like it gets caught in his throat, and for a moment he can hardly breathe around it. "Right. Because me coming in the way I did, yeah, I was pretending. I mean, I could hardly string words together because I had just shot Natasha and I was covered in her blood and I was as far as okay from possible - but yeah, that's how a deadly killer acts, right? I mean, what the fuck do I know."
He's running out of air. His voice had been rising, but it feels like his lungs are suddenly two sizes too small and he has to pause as he paces for a moment. It doesn't last long, though, before he turns around. "What do I have to do for you to take me into consideration? At all? I didn't need or want to be above your concern for Natasha. I still don't, but some consideration would be nice. How many times do I have to carve myself open for you to do that? What do I have to do, Steve? Be your friend? Give you a home? Kiss you? Let you in and trust you even if you already proved to me once that I shouldn't?"
Love you?, he almost spits out, but he manages to refrain even if it feels like the words are causing the arc reactor to fall right out of his chest, especially because he's not ready to expose himself even more. He feels vulnerable enough as it is, has been feeling raw enough as it is, and he forces his voice down. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty fucking sure I've done all of the above at this point. And I'm tired, Rogers. I'm. so. damn. tired. of feeling like I'm chasing after you only to end up feeling like this. I'm tired of feeling like we're on the same side, only to be looked by you in a way that flat out tells me otherwise all over again."
no subject
"Of course I wanted to be sure, but it's Natasha. Up until she said told us the reason those shots landed at all was because she'd seen the warning signs but ignored them, I couldn't take the chance. The stakes were too high. I wasn't gonna bet both your lives."
But then that string of questions comes, and Steve listens as each one feels like a knife trying to sharpen itself against his skin. No question alone will kill him, but every single one draws blood. It's not even that he thinks Tony's doing this to hurt him on purpose — that's not what's so painful. What hurts the most is that somehow, by the time that Tony's done, Steve knows for certain that somewhere along the way, Tony's stopped believing that Steve cares about him.
What did I do wrong?
The question rings through his mind, which sudden feels like an empty echo chamber. Steve is used to being able to come up with a plan. But this question goes out, and no answer comes back.
What did I ... do.
In that moment, Steve knows that if Tony had slammed the door earlier, he should've thrown his shoulder against it to keep it open. Because even without an answer, finding out that this was the problem would've been worth all of that, and more.
"Stop," he says, with a tinge of disbelief in his voice. For a second earlier, Steve's eyes seemed a little dazed, but he's back at attention now. "Stop," he says again, as he moves to close the distance the between them. Every other time he's touched Tony in any way, things always started slow. Steve's always been careful about broadcasting himself so nothing comes to Tony as a surprise — but this time isn't like the others. He just moves, cutting the six feet between them down to four, then two, and when he's finally there, he doesn't pause. He doesn't give Tony a chance to react.
Instead, Steve wraps his arms around Tony immediately, as he buries part of himself into Tony's shoulder. He doesn't know if Tony will fight him, but Steve's ready if he does and this will help brace him. But deep down, his goal here isn't to hold Tony hostage. If Steve gets the sense that Tony really doesn't want to be here, he'll let go. But if he hits him, if he yells, if he has any other reaction, Steve will stay here, arms tight.
But he doesn't wait to see if any of that happens before he starts talking.
"Stop telling me that I don't care about you," he says, his own hurt and stubbornness finally revealing itself in his voice, and Steve locks his eyes on the floor because it's impossible to make eye contact in this position. "Because I l-"
No. There's something else he wants to say instead, to say first: "If you and Natasha switched places. If you told me she shot you because she was being controlled, and she came into your hospital room a complete mess, I would've-" He'd said earlier that he couldn't let who Tony was change the way he'd acted in that moment, and he still stands by that statement. But if had really been Romanoff, he realizes, things would have gone much differently.
"I would've pinned her to the floor the moment she walked in." Because Natasha's a spy by training. Because if Tony had told him that someone was mind-controlling the greatest assassin in the world to assassinate people, all bets would be off.
"I would've protected you, or died trying," he says. "So stop-" When Steve gets here, his voice, which had previously been as strong as it normally is, seems to get the wind knocked out of its sails. "Please stop telling me that I don't care about you."
no subject
His resolve almost cracks, though, when Steve tells him to stop and Tony looks like he's full on ready to shout that, no, he will not fucking stop. But then he's moving, and Tony unconsciously starts to take a step back, but Steve's too fast. He's suddenly there, with his arms wrapped around him.
No. He doesn't say it, but he shakes his head as he moves slightly as if to push him away. There's no real force behind it, though; it's mainly just an unconscious reaction from how hurt he still feels, how he's trying to protect himself before he lets Steve further in, but then Steve starts speaking again and there's finally some emotion in there that makes him actually pause. He shuts his eyes as he speaks, because he wants to say he doesn't believe him - and on some level that's actually not a lie, even if it makes something in his heart crack at the realization - but at the same time he knows Steve. He knows in that mind of his that's really how he had worked this whole thing out and, as much as it infuriates him, it's just...him. It's that same level of stubbornness that had made them clash so hard before, isn't it?
God, he feels dizzy.
Stop making me feel that way, then, he almost says, he even opens his mouth to do it, but he stops. The pause doesn't last for long, though, before he speaks almost too quietly but, considering how Steve is holding him, it's not like he'll have much problem hearing him. "...it felt like we were back in time. Like it all... Like none of it happened."
no subject
When they were in the hospital, Steve had practically disassociated Tony from his body because he had to stay hyper focused. Every single one of his reflexes was on high alert. He was ready for Tony's expression to change, for his hand to slip into his pocket, or behind his back, or for his feet the sprint forward, past Steve to Natasha's bed. To expect the unexpected, Steve had needed all of his attention, which is why he barely had the capacity to notice how it might have looked from the other side.
From Tony's side.
God damn it, Steve thinks. They were on opposite sides, once again. And then he hears those quiet words right next to his ear, Steve's arms unconsciously hold on a little tighter as his brow furrows and he rotates his head towards Tony in confusion.
"How..." It's barely a whisper, and it fades quickly as Steve's mind starts to play through what happened again. He's done this plenty of times now, but each playback has always had one thing in common: it's always been from Steve's perspective. It hadn't even occurred to him that Tony experienced something entirely different, and as he plays through it again ...
"... oh ... Tony."
The words are said under his breath, because Steve isn't even aware that he says them at all. Instead, suddenly he's back there in that room again, but standing at the door this time and as he remembers how everything unfolded, Steve finally sees it.
The way his back had been turned from the beginning.
The careful motion he'd used to slowly spin around.
The lack of recognition in his eyes when he'd looked at Tony the first time.
The immovable posture that had set like stone across his shoulders.
The stubbornness in his eyes when he'd refused to step aside.
The movement sideways to cut Tony off from Natasha entirely.
The way he'd kept looking at Natasha, like she's real.
The way he'd kept looking at Tony, like he's not.
Steve asked himself earlier: What did I do? Apparently this time, when the question went out, Steve got his answer.
It doesn't help that he knows this all happened when Tony was most vulnerable. That the moment he needed comfort and someone to hold him, was when he first pushed open that hospital door, and not 48 hours later.
Steve came here tonight prepared (or maybe braced) for a lot of things, but apologizing had never been on the list. He didn't think there was anything he'd done wrong, because no matter how he runs through the scenario again, he doesn't see any other option. He'd prioritized both of their lives over everything else — hadn't that been the right call? Wasn't that always the right call?
If someone forced him to think through it all again this instant, Steve would probably still say that it was. But god everything sure feels a lot less black and white than it had a moment ago, and it's no contradiction to say that while he would make the same decisions again, there are also things he wants to apologize for.
"I'm sorry," he says, his voice just scratching the tip of a whisper, and the tail end of his words seem to get snuffed out by a lack of air in Steve's lungs. "I never meant to hurt you." And yet, over and over again, here they are. "I'm so sorry that I did." It's the first time since they've been together that Steve wonders if maybe Tony would be better off without him. Maybe there's a reason he's never made it this far before. That he always seems to die, or go on the run before something gets serious. Before he can make someone feel like this.
His voice is quiet but steady, when Steve starts to speak again.
"There's nothing to correct, because you're right. You were my friend. You gave me a home when I didn't think I'd ever have one again. I don't think you know what that means to me." That last sentence slips in there accidentally, and there's an abrupt stop in his voice before Steve notices, recovers and pushes forward. "I know I've hurt you Tony. More than once. Every time I think I'm protecting you, somehow I manage to make things worse."
Silence takes over however, when Steve realizes that he's no longer making the point he'd set out to make. That his emotions and his guilt have taken control. You deserve better, and I don't deserve you. He nearly says it out loud, because deep down, Steve's always thought that was true, and that one day Tony will wake up and realize exactly how true it really is.
But Steve knows that if he says those words, he'll be signaling to Tony that he thinks this is the beginning of the end. And despite that voice inside his head, that isn't what he wants. Steve might always chose the world over the person he loves, but this isn't that choice.
"Come home?" he asks this time, quiet, even pleading, as the way Steve's arms are curled around Tony shift to something more gentle, and one of his hands follows Tony's arm and takes Tony's hand into his. "I don't deserve you. I know that. It's unfair for me to ask. I know that too. But come home? Let me show you the last few weeks happened. That you mean so much to me. And that even if I'm terrible at it, I've never stopped trying to be on your side."
no subject
Would he, though? If he could shove and push Steve away, would he? The part of him that is so resentful of what happened screams yes, that he would. He should. He wants to. How dare he come in here and just hold him as if that's going to fix everything that happened? As if he didn't make him feel like shit again after all his promises, after everything that they have lived through since Tony foolishly let him back into his life again?
Despite that resentment and those thoughts, though, there's that other part of him. The one that is making this so much more painful than he's comfortable with. Because, even if it feels like another lifetime ago, it hasn't been that long since they were in Steve's apartment. It hasn't been that long since he cooked him dinner. Since he took care of him. Since he kissed him the way he did, since he held him how he did. The memory is seared into his brain, along with that rush of emotion that he had caused to flood through him in a way that he swore no one ever would again. He let him under his skin again, and--
I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you.
It's the letter, he realizes, all over again. If he closes his eyes, he can almost find himself back at the compound, with that stupid
antiquatedburner phone on his desk, and that stupid letter next to it. It makes him almost cringe, but at least while he tenses, he doesn't pull away how he's so incredibly tempted to do. Because that side of him that is tired of getting hurt, the one that already swore once that this would never happen again, wants to set up that wall again. Shut him out. Leave him behind. It's enough.But, again, he just doesn't. And, god, he feels like such an idiot. He already had been feeling that way, even before Steve walked into his room tonight, but now he just feels even more exposed for everything he has said. It needed to be said, he knows this damn well because if this would have been the end, he wanted Steve to know that it hadn't been just because Tony Stark is a drama queen, but because he pushed him here, but.
But.
Come home?
This is the first time that Steve's apartment has been called that out loud, but he'd be lying if he were to say that he hadn't already started seeing it as such for days now. Living together hadn't been planned, it had just happened so organically that Tony didn't have a chance to freak out about finding himself living with Steve, but it had just felt right. That apartment had become home. It is home, and it's what makes his breath almost catch as he looks away, because there's a knot in his throat that feels as if it's choking him suddenly.
"Yeah, it's unfair of you to ask." His voice remains quiet, keeping his eyes away from Steve. Now that he has said all he needed to say, it's almost as if the fight has been snuffed out of him. If Steve would have said he was wrong, if he would have pushed back on what he said at all, Tony would have just kicked him out altogether at this point. He would have been done. But...Steve's answer is something that he actually couldn't have expected, not by how determined Steve had seemed that he had been right in what he had done, and his brain can't quite catch up with knowing what he should be doing right now.
Maybe that's why, ultimately, he starts speaking. "I hate feeling like I'm your enemy. Or like you're mine. I hate...the doubt I feel when you do that. And I know what I'm going to say is probably not going to help matters because, even if I know it's not unwarranted, I cannot stand how you looked at me when you were trying to figure out if it was me or not. But...you need to know this. Especially if I do go back...to your place." It feels like he's running out of air again, and he swallows.
"I can't remember anything about yesterday after work. I remember finishing my shift. Then I tried to take a walk around, trying to see if something would help me remember anything, and instead I just... Suddenly it was today, and I was leaving work. I was fine. I'm fine, physically, except for a headache." A beat. "So...if you need to do your thing, if you need to have that separation so you're not compromised, then go do it. But I'm not going anywhere with you if that's the mode you're going to be in. I'm not going to stop you from being on work mode. But I don't want to be there for it. Not when I'm part of the assignment and I already feel the way I do right now."
no subject
Then one day, the apartment felt like home. It felt like their home, in a way that was so beautiful that it was baffling. So when Tony repeats that it's unfair, all Steve can do is whisper a soft "I know" once more into his ear. But he doesn't take the question back. Maybe love is making him selfish, when it should be pushing him to be even more of the opposite, but Steve doesn't tell Tony that if he prefers to stay here tonight, it's alright. Because he wants Tony to come home.
He listens though, when Tony starts telling him about the doubt and Steve wishes he could tell Tony that he'll never feel like they're enemies ever again. But he can't predict the future, just like he couldn't have foreseen what happened at the hospital, and while Steve now understands now why Tony was so hurt, he still can't see a different path than the one he took. Given the information he had, Steve doesn't know how he could've made a different call.
But they also say love changes you.
Having gone through what he did with Bucky and Tony and Siberia, and now this, Steve isn't the same man as the one who hijacked a quinjet months ago. That man would simply hope that next time, the circumstances don't force his hand, and if they do, he'll accept the consequences. Because him losing Tony is better than Tony losing himself.
But now, having seen so many twists and turns of what can be both wrong and right, Steve can't help but think there must be another way. The feeling isn't so foreign, after all. For his entire life, there have always been moral boundaries that Steve has refused to cross, because he's never believed that in the pursuit of good, one should be willing to commit acts of evil. He's always believed there's another way. Was this really so different? Shouldn't he ... try to find another way?
I can't remember anything about yesterday after work.
Wait, what?
Steve pulls back for the first time since the hug began, so he can really look at Tony as he hears this. Tony remembers finishing his shift, but ... all of last night is a blank. Last night, when Steve just assumed that Tony was mad, that he wanted time away, that he didn't want to see him — when in fact, he'd been ... well, Steve doesn't know. Because he didn't come check when he'd thought to. The concern in Steve's eyes is only somewhat alleviated when Tony says that he's okay and that all he has is a headache, but the guilt has already started to plant itself in Steve's chest. But before he can grow too much of it, Tony's talking again, now about work mode and Steve doesn't even know where to begin. He thought he'd explained this already, and this time, he feels like maybe Tony is trying to push him away on purpose.
But Steve's tired too. He doesn't want to fight and he hopes he's right when he guesses that Tony's intention isn't to pick one, because it isn't lost on Steve that despite everything, Tony still hasn't said no.
"I won't need to anymore." He doesn't offer an explanation unless Tony looks at him like he needs one. If he does, Steve will repeat what he said earlier. That once Natasha admitted to ignoring the signs, things changed. He doesn't expect Tony to transform into a master assassination at a moment's notice. He's still dangerous, yes, but Steve doesn't have to guard him with every fiber of his being.
After that, if Tony doesn't say anything else — if he doesn't name any more conditions — then Steve only lets a natural pause go by before the hand that slipped down to Tony's earlier gives a little squeeze. And then a small, gentle tug. An invitation to start moving, and to start making their way back home.
no subject
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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48 hours ago, if it had just been the two of them, maybe it would have been like this.
But Steve's re-lived the past enough times for one day. Right now, all he wants is to focus on the present and on the fact that he can feel Tony's forehead pressed against him, and that Tony feels comfortable enough to be there. In his mind, Steve is making himself a few promises he never wants to forget.
First, that they'll catch him — whoever it is that's controlling Tony.
Second, that no matter how difficult it will be, he'll try everything in his power to make sure Tony never feels alone when he needs him again.
And third, because it should be last, Steve promises that if he fails — if he hurts Tony one more time — if Tony doesn't end things, then he will. Ultimately, in Steve's mind, being in love isn't only about being together. It's about making sure that the person you love is happy and fulfilled. Despite his best intentions, all he seems to do is bring Tony pain. So if he can't find a way to fix it, then ... Tony deserves to be with someone better. Someone who can make him happy. That's all Steve wants for him, in the end.
After five seconds, Steve squeezes Tony's hand once more, this time as a small sign that he's about to let go. His fingers slip up to Tony's jawline, and Steve brushes his thumb against it, grateful that he still gets to do so. But Steve can tell that Tony just wants to feel safe and shielded, just for a little while, which is why his fingers gently guide Tony to turn a little, so that he can rest his cheek on his chest as Steve wraps Tony's body up in his arms, encompassing him entirely. It's snug but not tight. And as always, at this proximity, Steve is always so warm. A moment later, he presses his lips to Tony's forehead.
I'm here, he can't help thinking, or projecting into the way he moves. I'm so sorry I was late. I'm here now.
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He already knows, though. He already knows that, just because Steve helps him feel this way, it won't make a difference next time (if there is a next time) because just doing this now is hard enough. The first time they had fought like this, it had left Tony gutted. Now, with as much as they have on the line, it still feels as if he's hollowed out, and he already knows that they won't survive a third time. He won't survive it, and letting him go will no longer be something he contemplates.
But here, now, he doesn't want to think about that. Although some part of him is still cautious and even doubtful about it, Tony wants to believe that there won't be a third time. He actually wants to believe that they'll be okay, that maybe they've had these bumps as a lesson more than anything else.
And...yeah, he feels like an idiot for thinking that, but maybe it's the bump to the head that Natasha gave him. Maybe it's the headache.
Maybe it's just the fact that Steve has come to mean more to him than he could have prepared for.
When he feels Steve's fingers along his jawline, and then the way he prompts him to settle against his chest, Tony is almost ready to tell him no, that it's okay. They don't have to do this, they can just leave, but then his arms are wrapped around him again and this time Tony doesn't fight that hold. He lets him hold him, and he allows himself the opportunity to stay pressed against his chest. At first he doesn't move, he just stays almost entirely too still, but after a moment he moves his hand to grasp onto the back of Steve's jumpsuit. As if to not move from here. As if to hold onto him as a sort of stability or grounding factor, because he needs it. Now, more than ever, he needs it even if he doesn't like it, and even if he would never even dream to verbally ask for it.
They can't stay like this, though. As comfortable as he may be, he knows they should get moving, at least so that he won't end up falling asleep on Steve while standing.
"So," he finally says, his voice still quiet, and now that the heat of his anger has lessened, it gives way to making it obvious how tired he really is. "Should we go home, then?"
That's his version of an olive branch. His white flag to say that he doesn't want to fight anymore.
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Tony says that first word and Steve tilts his head closer. Then he hears the full question and slowly, as he realizes that Tony's said it too — home — Steve's lips curl softly upwards as he nods. "Yeah," he says, just as quietly. "Let's go home." Tony seems so tired though. Steve can feel it in the way he leans against him and hear it in the sound of his voice. So after a second of contemplating it first, he asks softly, "How about I carry you?" One of his arms shifts a little higher up so his hand can rest against the back of Tony's head, his fingers brushing against his hair. "It'll be curfew soon."
Starting from ORANGE means no one will be in the hall after 2200, and it's rare that they ever run into anyone on GREEN. Not that privacy is something they'd really have, at least as long as the Computer's watching. But it's already no secret to the cameras that Tony comes to Steve's apartment nearly every night and leaves in the mornings, and this won't draw any more of her attention. Plus, carrying him up lets Steve hold Tony for a little longer. Even if he knows now that he'll get to hold Tony all night tonight, it doesn't feel long enough.
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Despite that, though, he doesn't want to stay in his room. Even if he doesn't have a roommate, this isn't home, and ever since Steve called it that, his heart has been aching for it even if he had been trying to ignore it earlier.
At Steve's question, his lips quirk slightly. This is the closest that he has come to smiling since he had kissed Steve goodbye the morning that he shot Natasha, and he's about to answer but...damn, those fingers in his hair makes him almost melt. This is definitely cheating.
"As tempting as that is, I... Thanks, but it's okay. I can make it." His hand let's go of Steve's jumpsuit only so he can move his arm down to his waist. As if to say that, even if he won't let him carry him, he won't let him go and they can go home with an arm around each other if it's okay with him. He just doesn't peel himself away from Steve just yet.
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"Well. If you change your mind ..." he says, in that same quiet voice he's been using for the past few minutes, "... I'll be here." A promise he should have made a long time ago, paired with a kiss at the top of Tony's head, and the feeling of Steve's fingers still gently brushing through Tony's hair.
Eventually, they do move from that spot in Tony's room and make their way to the door, up the elevators, and to that familiar GREEN hallway. Steve never lets go of Tony the entire time — whether it's because they end up holding hands or putting their arms around each other. And not long after, once they've washed up a little (because Steve still insists, no matter how tired Tony is), they finally find themselves curled up together in bed, with only the familiar sound of each other's breathing to accompany the quiet hum of the apartment.
It isn't until this moment that Steve remembers that he saw Bucky for the first time earlier that night. But before he says something, he thinks better of it. Tony's been through enough. That news can wait until the morning.
So instead, he pulls Tony a bit closer, as he breathes in the clean smell of the cotton shirts they've started wearing to bed together, and plants a gentle, chaste kiss onto the back of Tony's neck. He's missed him more than he could've imagined, even if Steve couldn't even admit it to himself until now. And god, it feels like he's been holding his breath for two days and two nights, because here, back home, with Tony, it feels like the weight that's been pressing down into his chest finally starts to ease up.
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Although, really, the walk to the elevator feels eternal. There's a moment where he can feel that point of exhaustion where he's starting to feel borderline nauseous, but washing up is a good idea no matter how much he wants to sleep for the next three days. It makes him feel at least a little bit more human, and by the time he changes into the cotton shirts, he's finally feeling a little more comfortable in his own skin.
It won't last long, though, and he already knows that even now. In the morning, when he can think a little clearer, he won't be worrying about his fight with Steve. He won't be distracted by the bitterness and anger that kept nagging at him after leaving Medical Services. He'll be able to fully focus on what has been happening - he'll remember the pool of Natasha's blood he woke up in 48 hours ago, he'll remember the fact that he's losing his damn mind, and--
The feeling of Steve's lips against the back of his neck, and the way he pulls him closer, help to quiet down those thoughts and he presses himself closer against him. He knows this peace and quiet won't last long for him, and he knows he doesn't deserve it, but for now he's selfish and tired enough to want to get lost in how comfortable he's feeling by how Steve is holding him. It makes him take a slow deep breath as he takes in his scent, this feeling of being home, and he manages to fall asleep almost as soon as he finally closes his eyes.