@victimplaguedâ continued from here
Of course, it does sting.
But pain had become a reoccurrence for them, hadnât it? It barely phased Steve anymore. His body had been pushed, twisted, and slotted into impossible spaces when needed. He had become the hero that everyone desired him to be. Symbolic and a sign of hope, the weight of such a label written over the bruises knuckles and cracked ribs. Not dead - not even close. Held together by bandages and fierce determination.
Steve smiles because thatâs what he does. Reassure anyone, especially Tony, that itâs going to be fine. The bad guy was defeated and they could all rest well knowing they had done their best. Itâs the pressing and insurmountable weight of the cost of their decisions. The ones who hadnât lived so others may. Steve feels the tear of his busted lip as his smile widens by habit, not quite meeting his blue eyes.
âYou donât have to.â He says but he is sure Tony knows. He is more durable than most. Been through a lot damn worse. How was Tony? Was he fine under that focused gaze? Was his mind here in the present with Steve or already calculating the next move theyâd all need to make to ensure this never happens again? âHey,â Steve finally manages breaking his thoughts to grab Tonyâs wrist (gently) as his head cocks slightly to the side, âYou good?â He asks. Tony was definitely the type to throw himself into tasks to keep busy. To keep his mind overloaded. He was the breakable one, was he not? âBefore you go all nurse on me, how are you? You took a beating too.â
Crouching in front of Steve, Tony pressed the washcloth as gently as he could to Steveâs temple. It would heal--he knew that; it always did--but that didnât make him feel any better about watching Steve throw himself into battle like a loose Lego piece: fully ready to be broken apart and put back together again, so overconfident that he'd be alright in the end that heâd let the whole concept of self preservation go out the damn window. And they called Tony reckless.Â
âDonât.â Tony batted away Steveâs hand on his wrist, no matter how good it felt to have him close again, to know that he even could hold him like this, that he wasnât too far gone. âDonât you dare. You donât get to play knock knock jokes on deathâs door and then play the paranoid teammate. Itâs my turn. And I swear to god, Steve, if you donât let me âgo all nurse on you,â Iâll kick your ass myself.â Maybe he was a hypocrite to say it, and maybe it was stupid--Steve could take care of himself better than anyone Tony had ever known; his super soldier healing made sure of it--but he couldnât help the way his weak old heart was pounding away on the other side of the arc reactor. Watching Steve fall like that had been one of the worst things heâd ever seen--and heâd seen the Hulk naked.Â
âIâm fine.â Maybe a few broken ribs, a bruise blossoming above his cheek bone, but heâd live. The important thing now was to figure out what the hell went wrong--heâd have to study JARVISâ cams later, replay the fight like a football coach on the make or break verge of losing the playoffs, and then it would be back to the lab to cook up something stronger, more flexible, something that moved with Steve instead of against him. âHereâs a thought: you stop worrying about me for ten seconds, maybe have a little faith in your teammate that I know what Iâm doing, and you stop talking before you make that lip of yours any worse.â Tony moved the rag there, gently cleaning the blood from Steveâs bottom lip.Â
















