try not to fret, doctor strange, about if tony had been dead or not. with friday's new protocols, he's tony's second emergency contact. colleague, he's listed as, but as tony is subject to an exam and suddenly very close to one doctor stephen strange, he wonders if that's the most accurate label. complicated friend. love interest. there's about a hundred other things that run through his mind as he's the best patient, sitting still, responding appropriately. he's ready for deep breaths and to stick his tongue out, but stephen has other ideas.
"but i didn't," he says less-than-helpfully, but his tone would imply otherwise.
he leans forward on his palms, but that sends a pulse of pain through one side, so when his face twists momentarily, he shifts weight to alleviate some of it. he's quick to school it back to neutrality, maybe even a hint of interest in his eyes, especially now that his diagnosis is... less bad than he'd suspected.
the silence hangs in the air between them, and tony can't help dropping his eyes momentarily down to stephen's lips, then quickly back up again. that's another bridge, though he senses crossing this one might mean meeting in the middle of it. he can't sit around and wait for him, and he's done enough making him be the one to wait.
so tony gazes back, just for another moment, just to let that tension rise between them. when he does speak, though it's not without a hint of sarcasm, his voice is much lower, nearly a whisper.
"you gonna bill me?"
Edited (a whole ass letter) 2022-02-27 01:19 (UTC)
It would be nice, just for once, if he could piece together any semblance of self control when it comes to Tony fucking Stark. But he never has been able to, has he, from the day that they met to now, and that doesn't seem to want to change for the sake of a measly pair of broken ribs and a conversation Stephen may have thought he was intent on having. They get caught up in one another's tides irrespective of best practice and better judgement, like matched for like in spite of themselves, and the drop of Tony's gaze to his mouth puts in all the legwork you gonna bill me? could possibly need.
Some last, stubborn tension drops and Stephen cants forward, scant distance maintained only thanks to the difference in their positions.
"I should."
He should absolutely bill him. For the fruitless hours spent worrying about him if nothing else.
Instead his voice drops to match Stark's, tantamount to surrender.
"I haven't finished examining you."
Which would be a stronger argument if his thumb weren't hooking over Tony's pinky as his hand settles on the table, a support for his dip downward. His free hand lifts to steady Tony's chin with the knuckle of his forefinger as he succumbs to the inevitable, nose grazing his cheek, mouths brought close enough to invite a meeting.
tony studies stephen the way he studies anything else: with careful attention, taking specific note in his mind of any and all changes. the shift in stephen's demeanor is impossible to miss with an eye as sharp as his, so tony pockets that information, calculates his next move based on that subtle, notable change.
fingers touch and tony adjusts, meets him halfway by sliding more fingers underneath stephen's, nearly like a dance as he moves closer into tony's space. he's used to this dance with stephen, the push and the pull, their ebb and flow like waves. stephen himself reminds tony of the tides, giving and taking however he feels, and the world around him must adjust. he's the epitome of a force of nature, immovable and true, chaotic and gentle.
he's gazing down at their hands when stephen moves in closer, to the steadying finger to his chin takes him by surprise. he lifts his gaze to him, his brown eyes a little wide, betraying what churns under the surface. underneath tony's chin, the only thing grounding him to this moment is that light, familiar tremble of stephen's hand. the tremor keeps tony aware of how close they are, how the lingering scent of stephen's aftershave is all he can smell, how all he would need to do is turn his head.
so he does. tony's head tilts, angling neatly to one side and pressing his lips tightly against stephen's. he hasn't kissed him in days, but it feels like months as warmth begins to spread from his lips, through his neck, his chest flushing a deep red. tony's free hand reaches up to cradle his head in the bend of his neck, his thumb placed carefully on stephen's cheekbone to keep him there, as though those tides might pull him away and leave tony only with what he can find left behind on this beach.
Tony meets him and Stephen's eyes press shut, his lips when they land bringing with them a fierce relief: oil fire burning over still waters.
He's in trouble here. Has been for a while. And it's for that reason that he brings himself to tilt their faces apart after a long moment spent safe in closeness, though for all the effort it takes him to manage it's hardly any breach at all. Barely there, just far enough for breath to have space to pass between them, for his words to rumble over Tony's lips.
"I'm not going to be your get out of jail free card every time."
The hand resting over Tony's becomes a press, a hold, stay here and listen and I'm not going anywhere.
He thinks he gets it. Thrown from the horse his first real time back in the saddle - it had been what he meant when he'd asked are you alright?, but there's no surprise that's not the question Tony answered. He wouldn't have either. Faced with the same question Stephen would have answered it for his body in subconscious self-defence and squirmed away from any further effort to pin him down.
Irrespective of that, it's important that he makes this clear. Now, before Tony builds a habit.
"I don't need the Avengers on my back in three months time because I enabled you to accidentally kill yourself rather than have an uncomfortable conversation."
Being in the bad books of bereaved friends is the very last thing that would bother him in that situation, but it helps to illustrate the point in a way that doesn't leave either one of them too bare. In the long term, he's not going to be leaned on to avoid conversations that need to be had. He isn't here to help Tony annex himself, as convenient as that would be.
Uncertainty is fair, self-agency and the decision to step solo out into the field equally so, but going it entirely alone is the shit that leaves you sitting around with busted ribs waiting to feel okay enough about it to reach out for help. And Stephen Strange isn't somebody anyone should end up falling back on as a one man support system.
tony feels it. he can feel it coming before it's said, that damn high tide being dragged out from under his feet. the water is rushing away from shore, threatening to pull him with it, the way it does before a tsunami hits. tony has always known, when water suddenly recedes, you run for safety.
his lips press into a hard line and he exhales sharply through his nose, keeping his eyes down to their still-clasped hands. it's his life ring, right now. that intended reassurance does its job, showing tony in the way he knows best that he isn't going anywhere, that he wants him to listen, but it's that second part that has tony digging his heels in like a dog that doesn't want to move. listen. listen.
"yeah, i know," he says, and it's not loud, but it is sudden. his head tilts both upward and to one side, as though trying to catch stephen's attention, but it's ridiculous of him to think he wouldn't have had it in the first place. stephen is there, his eye contact is less deliberate but just as intimidating, though tony won't let his own stray.
"i know, strange. think about something for a second, alright? between you and bruce banner, who do you think would be less of an asshole to me about the whole thing? hm? who do you think would just quietly bandage me up and make me super pinky promise not to do it again?" brown eyes stare up into stephen's, unrelenting, confident. it's the truth, though: bruce lets tony push him around, he goes along with what he says. he's incredibly intelligent, and over the years has grown more and more of a spine, but if tony asked him to jump, he would already know how high.
but tony realizes a little too late that he's coming on too strong. he wants to run from the shore, like he knows he's supposed to, but maybe he just needs to let the tide in again.
"i didn't come to you because you were the easy way out." his voice is back to the quiet reassurance, and his gaze drops again, to his lap, to their hands. he squeezes, almost like a question earnestly awaiting an answer.
In truth, he doesn't know what that means. It sticks in his chest: compliment or criticism, both? His attention remains fixed on Tony for long seconds after he's said it, watching his downcast eyes for any sense that he's not quite finished— but no. That was that. His hand is warm under Stephen's, grasping, and the part of himself that knows them both too well preens at the implication he's a challenge, an undertaking, while another part reminds him that not everything should have to be a battle.
For as much as he'd like to take him up on that train of thought, follow it and see where it goes— Tony came to him. Not Bruce Banner. And he's right: of the two of them, he's the bigger asshole. It takes priority.
"You came to me long after a more serious wound could have already caused permanent damage, then you left it a little longer because I was busy throwing a tantrum. If I'm the one you're going to call, you call immediately, screw whatever mood I'm in, and if I don't answer you call Banner. Failing that you check yourself into the fucking ER."
Low, clipped, a list of his terms. If he's going to be Tony Stark's new doctor on call, he never wants to hear about an incident of anything close to this magnitude second-hand again. He most definitely never wants to learn Tony's sat with his injuries and his pain, awaiting the optimum moment to finally bridge a gap before seeking medical attention. It circles back around to the point he'd been making: if anyone had known he was headed out alone, there would have been no way for him to go unchecked on when things went south.
They're too tenuous. Even knowing something had happened, Stephen hadn't reached out, unsure the ground they share would hold for that kind of intrusion, uncertain of his place. He's been the unofficial cause of death in enough unlived realities not to blunder around in the lives of people that were never his to save. That's something that'll need resolving too - maybe there's an answer wrapped up in Tony's closing statement - and the thought brings him finally back to the hand squeezing his.
He curls his fingers into the hold, his own focus dropping from Tony's face to watch himself run the pad of his thumb over one of the other man's fingers. He should be more careful than this. But it's a little too late to play at distance now.
"I wasn't talking about the aftermath. You need to speak them. It doesn't matter if they approve, they need to know if you're back out on your own."
He needs the support, whatever way that manifests itself. For better or worse, Tony has spent years of his life as part of a team, and he needs that network now perhaps more than ever.
for a good moment, tony desperately cannot look at stephen strange. his eyes stay cast down, nearly closed, his free hand fidgeting, looking for somewhere to rest but nowhere feels safe. he feels himself getting smaller, but the pride battles just as hard, and he ends up landing somewhere between the two. he only allows himself to be bossed around the minimum amount, taking the words on the chin and allowing them to land wherever they may. he... acknowledges, also, that deep down, this is coming from a place of care. stephen's upset because he didn't want tony to have died doing something stupid. he understands.
but he'll talk to the rest of the team when he's ready.
at least the demands he's making aren't out of the question. friday has a decent amount of diagnostic ability to her, but she isn't a trauma nurse by any means. stephen wants what's best. tony would be a fool to miss that detail.
so despite the pride bubbling and boiling under his skin and in his blood, tony stays quiet for a moment and allows stephen's words to hang between them with no answer. his discomfort is palpable, but he doesn't move his hand, and finally when stephen speaks again does tony lift his head to look him in the eye. the expression he wears is unreadable, solidly middle lined, because in truth, that's where he sits. he's annoyed at strange for bossing him around, he's relieved because he knows he cares. he's pissed because he's right. he's stressed about how close he is to him, how that hand on his is his only lifeline right now.
"got it. call you, call banner, er." his eyes fall again, to stephen's hands, down to the rest of his face, back up to his eyes. he fidgets, he searches for comfort.
"i'll... call sam tomorrow. tell him everything. i can't—"
a hesitation, dropped eyes.
"i can't tell everyone at once. you know what this is like."
the hand holding stephen's won't budge, and tony notes hopefully that stephen hasn't pulled away. he's still in tony's orbit, a breath away from another kiss. the first had said so much, had breathed so much life into this conversation. it had taken down tony's wall, piece by piece, but he feels now like he might be better off rebuilding it. he looks back up to him, finally, finding that bite of confidence and holding onto it.
There's no missing how much stress he's just caused him. The number of times he's caught his gaze and lost it again is telltale, the fidgeting in contrast to the clasp of their hands. So when Tony fixes his attention on him again, clear and direct and stubborn enough to hold his nerve in spite of how vulnerable he's being forced to be, Stephen's almost the one to flinch.
He doesn't. If Tony can push through, the least he can do is meet him in that.
"Yeah."
Yeah. Instant, no hesitation and no disapproval: he knows. Time is a fine thing to take given all the concessions Tony's just made. And with that acknowledgement, with the flit of his focus back and forth between Tony's eyes, the relief of the confirmation that he's not going to pull another one of these without a small legion of safety measures already agreed... Stephen tilts his head forward to break off his own intensity and rest his forehead on Tony's.
"Thank you."
It's a lot to give up. The safety of other peoples ignorance. The freedom to sail under the radar in times when having to have the conversation is still too raw. And Stephen knows how much it must have taken not to put up a fight, especially given it's him who's asking. Neither of them really have the best track record for not answering the other back.
Well - no. Even historically, they can shut up when it matters. Maybe he's most grateful that Tony decided this did.
There's a warmer tone in his voice when he pipes up with an afterthought, some of the stark earnestness stripped away to lift some weight from the conversation. (He's not as brave as Tony's been. Doesn't know how to sit in his own vulnerability for even a moment longer when there's a chance that bubble might not be burst for him.)
"... And hey, no rush. It's not like you'll be doing anything exciting for the next six to eight weeks."
Just because it's designed to lighten the mood doesn't mean it's a joke. You made your choice of medical professional, Tony, and now you're going to have to lie in it.
Edited (me out here not knowing how to format prose, I just know I didn't like it before and now it's different) 2022-03-03 01:16 (UTC)
their foreheads meet and warmth blooms through tony's body from that point. like a petal that unfurls, or maybe like a slowly rising tide, rather, tony feels that weird pride subside and his willingness to do the right thing for someone he cares about takes the lead.
the urge to kiss him is there, but tony resists for now. time and place, after all.
for a while, tony just sits in the space between them that strange has made. it's uncomfortable in some ways and he doesn't like it, but that's why he came to strange. he knew he'd be challenged, he knew he'd be faced with the right answer whether he wanted it or not. stephen has a way of taking tony by the face, showing him what he needs and not accepting failure. and maybe that's why they get along so well— for some, failure is growth. for men like tony and stephen, failure is not an option. they understand each other in that way, what outcome the other needs to move on and to grow, and accepting this injury is going to be a difficult one.
so he sighs, allowing a smile to pull at the corners of his lips.
"sounds like i'll be in desperate need of entertainment. don't suppose you know of any good tech science journals? or you can help me with that metal composite."
tony's head cocks again, as though waiting to be met with an equal force. if strange is confining him, he's trapping him there with him. maybe he has to lie with his choice of general practitioner, but if tony had it his way, they would lie together in this bed.
"or maybe you can just make sure i get some sleep tonight."
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no subject
"but i didn't," he says less-than-helpfully, but his tone would imply otherwise.
he leans forward on his palms, but that sends a pulse of pain through one side, so when his face twists momentarily, he shifts weight to alleviate some of it. he's quick to school it back to neutrality, maybe even a hint of interest in his eyes, especially now that his diagnosis is... less bad than he'd suspected.
the silence hangs in the air between them, and tony can't help dropping his eyes momentarily down to stephen's lips, then quickly back up again. that's another bridge, though he senses crossing this one might mean meeting in the middle of it. he can't sit around and wait for him, and he's done enough making him be the one to wait.
so tony gazes back, just for another moment, just to let that tension rise between them. when he does speak, though it's not without a hint of sarcasm, his voice is much lower, nearly a whisper.
"you gonna bill me?"
no subject
Some last, stubborn tension drops and Stephen cants forward, scant distance maintained only thanks to the difference in their positions.
"I should."
He should absolutely bill him. For the fruitless hours spent worrying about him if nothing else.
Instead his voice drops to match Stark's, tantamount to surrender.
"I haven't finished examining you."
Which would be a stronger argument if his thumb weren't hooking over Tony's pinky as his hand settles on the table, a support for his dip downward. His free hand lifts to steady Tony's chin with the knuckle of his forefinger as he succumbs to the inevitable, nose grazing his cheek, mouths brought close enough to invite a meeting.
no subject
fingers touch and tony adjusts, meets him halfway by sliding more fingers underneath stephen's, nearly like a dance as he moves closer into tony's space. he's used to this dance with stephen, the push and the pull, their ebb and flow like waves. stephen himself reminds tony of the tides, giving and taking however he feels, and the world around him must adjust. he's the epitome of a force of nature, immovable and true, chaotic and gentle.
he's gazing down at their hands when stephen moves in closer, to the steadying finger to his chin takes him by surprise. he lifts his gaze to him, his brown eyes a little wide, betraying what churns under the surface. underneath tony's chin, the only thing grounding him to this moment is that light, familiar tremble of stephen's hand. the tremor keeps tony aware of how close they are, how the lingering scent of stephen's aftershave is all he can smell, how all he would need to do is turn his head.
so he does. tony's head tilts, angling neatly to one side and pressing his lips tightly against stephen's. he hasn't kissed him in days, but it feels like months as warmth begins to spread from his lips, through his neck, his chest flushing a deep red. tony's free hand reaches up to cradle his head in the bend of his neck, his thumb placed carefully on stephen's cheekbone to keep him there, as though those tides might pull him away and leave tony only with what he can find left behind on this beach.
please let him stay in high tide forever.
no subject
He's in trouble here. Has been for a while. And it's for that reason that he brings himself to tilt their faces apart after a long moment spent safe in closeness, though for all the effort it takes him to manage it's hardly any breach at all. Barely there, just far enough for breath to have space to pass between them, for his words to rumble over Tony's lips.
"I'm not going to be your get out of jail free card every time."
The hand resting over Tony's becomes a press, a hold, stay here and listen and I'm not going anywhere.
He thinks he gets it. Thrown from the horse his first real time back in the saddle - it had been what he meant when he'd asked are you alright?, but there's no surprise that's not the question Tony answered. He wouldn't have either. Faced with the same question Stephen would have answered it for his body in subconscious self-defence and squirmed away from any further effort to pin him down.
Irrespective of that, it's important that he makes this clear. Now, before Tony builds a habit.
"I don't need the Avengers on my back in three months time because I enabled you to accidentally kill yourself rather than have an uncomfortable conversation."
Being in the bad books of bereaved friends is the very last thing that would bother him in that situation, but it helps to illustrate the point in a way that doesn't leave either one of them too bare. In the long term, he's not going to be leaned on to avoid conversations that need to be had. He isn't here to help Tony annex himself, as convenient as that would be.
Uncertainty is fair, self-agency and the decision to step solo out into the field equally so, but going it entirely alone is the shit that leaves you sitting around with busted ribs waiting to feel okay enough about it to reach out for help. And Stephen Strange isn't somebody anyone should end up falling back on as a one man support system.
no subject
his lips press into a hard line and he exhales sharply through his nose, keeping his eyes down to their still-clasped hands. it's his life ring, right now. that intended reassurance does its job, showing tony in the way he knows best that he isn't going anywhere, that he wants him to listen, but it's that second part that has tony digging his heels in like a dog that doesn't want to move. listen. listen.
"yeah, i know," he says, and it's not loud, but it is sudden. his head tilts both upward and to one side, as though trying to catch stephen's attention, but it's ridiculous of him to think he wouldn't have had it in the first place. stephen is there, his eye contact is less deliberate but just as intimidating, though tony won't let his own stray.
"i know, strange. think about something for a second, alright? between you and bruce banner, who do you think would be less of an asshole to me about the whole thing? hm? who do you think would just quietly bandage me up and make me super pinky promise not to do it again?" brown eyes stare up into stephen's, unrelenting, confident. it's the truth, though: bruce lets tony push him around, he goes along with what he says. he's incredibly intelligent, and over the years has grown more and more of a spine, but if tony asked him to jump, he would already know how high.
but tony realizes a little too late that he's coming on too strong. he wants to run from the shore, like he knows he's supposed to, but maybe he just needs to let the tide in again.
"i didn't come to you because you were the easy way out." his voice is back to the quiet reassurance, and his gaze drops again, to his lap, to their hands. he squeezes, almost like a question earnestly awaiting an answer.
"you have never been the easy answer, stephen."
no subject
For as much as he'd like to take him up on that train of thought, follow it and see where it goes— Tony came to him. Not Bruce Banner. And he's right: of the two of them, he's the bigger asshole. It takes priority.
"You came to me long after a more serious wound could have already caused permanent damage, then you left it a little longer because I was busy throwing a tantrum. If I'm the one you're going to call, you call immediately, screw whatever mood I'm in, and if I don't answer you call Banner. Failing that you check yourself into the fucking ER."
Low, clipped, a list of his terms. If he's going to be Tony Stark's new doctor on call, he never wants to hear about an incident of anything close to this magnitude second-hand again. He most definitely never wants to learn Tony's sat with his injuries and his pain, awaiting the optimum moment to finally bridge a gap before seeking medical attention. It circles back around to the point he'd been making: if anyone had known he was headed out alone, there would have been no way for him to go unchecked on when things went south.
They're too tenuous. Even knowing something had happened, Stephen hadn't reached out, unsure the ground they share would hold for that kind of intrusion, uncertain of his place. He's been the unofficial cause of death in enough unlived realities not to blunder around in the lives of people that were never his to save. That's something that'll need resolving too - maybe there's an answer wrapped up in Tony's closing statement - and the thought brings him finally back to the hand squeezing his.
He curls his fingers into the hold, his own focus dropping from Tony's face to watch himself run the pad of his thumb over one of the other man's fingers. He should be more careful than this. But it's a little too late to play at distance now.
"I wasn't talking about the aftermath. You need to speak them. It doesn't matter if they approve, they need to know if you're back out on your own."
He needs the support, whatever way that manifests itself. For better or worse, Tony has spent years of his life as part of a team, and he needs that network now perhaps more than ever.
no subject
but he'll talk to the rest of the team when he's ready.
at least the demands he's making aren't out of the question. friday has a decent amount of diagnostic ability to her, but she isn't a trauma nurse by any means. stephen wants what's best. tony would be a fool to miss that detail.
so despite the pride bubbling and boiling under his skin and in his blood, tony stays quiet for a moment and allows stephen's words to hang between them with no answer. his discomfort is palpable, but he doesn't move his hand, and finally when stephen speaks again does tony lift his head to look him in the eye. the expression he wears is unreadable, solidly middle lined, because in truth, that's where he sits. he's annoyed at strange for bossing him around, he's relieved because he knows he cares. he's pissed because he's right. he's stressed about how close he is to him, how that hand on his is his only lifeline right now.
"got it. call you, call banner, er." his eyes fall again, to stephen's hands, down to the rest of his face, back up to his eyes. he fidgets, he searches for comfort.
"i'll... call sam tomorrow. tell him everything. i can't—"
a hesitation, dropped eyes.
"i can't tell everyone at once. you know what this is like."
the hand holding stephen's won't budge, and tony notes hopefully that stephen hasn't pulled away. he's still in tony's orbit, a breath away from another kiss. the first had said so much, had breathed so much life into this conversation. it had taken down tony's wall, piece by piece, but he feels now like he might be better off rebuilding it. he looks back up to him, finally, finding that bite of confidence and holding onto it.
"i'll get there, i just need."
don't say it.
"time."
no subject
He doesn't. If Tony can push through, the least he can do is meet him in that.
"Yeah."
Yeah. Instant, no hesitation and no disapproval: he knows. Time is a fine thing to take given all the concessions Tony's just made. And with that acknowledgement, with the flit of his focus back and forth between Tony's eyes, the relief of the confirmation that he's not going to pull another one of these without a small legion of safety measures already agreed... Stephen tilts his head forward to break off his own intensity and rest his forehead on Tony's.
"Thank you."
It's a lot to give up. The safety of other peoples ignorance. The freedom to sail under the radar in times when having to have the conversation is still too raw. And Stephen knows how much it must have taken not to put up a fight, especially given it's him who's asking. Neither of them really have the best track record for not answering the other back.
Well - no. Even historically, they can shut up when it matters. Maybe he's most grateful that Tony decided this did.
There's a warmer tone in his voice when he pipes up with an afterthought, some of the stark earnestness stripped away to lift some weight from the conversation. (He's not as brave as Tony's been. Doesn't know how to sit in his own vulnerability for even a moment longer when there's a chance that bubble might not be burst for him.)
"... And hey, no rush. It's not like you'll be doing anything exciting for the next six to eight weeks."
Just because it's designed to lighten the mood doesn't mean it's a joke. You made your choice of medical professional, Tony, and now you're going to have to lie in it.
no subject
the urge to kiss him is there, but tony resists for now. time and place, after all.
for a while, tony just sits in the space between them that strange has made. it's uncomfortable in some ways and he doesn't like it, but that's why he came to strange. he knew he'd be challenged, he knew he'd be faced with the right answer whether he wanted it or not. stephen has a way of taking tony by the face, showing him what he needs and not accepting failure. and maybe that's why they get along so well— for some, failure is growth. for men like tony and stephen, failure is not an option. they understand each other in that way, what outcome the other needs to move on and to grow, and accepting this injury is going to be a difficult one.
so he sighs, allowing a smile to pull at the corners of his lips.
"sounds like i'll be in desperate need of entertainment. don't suppose you know of any good tech science journals? or you can help me with that metal composite."
tony's head cocks again, as though waiting to be met with an equal force. if strange is confining him, he's trapping him there with him. maybe he has to lie with his choice of general practitioner, but if tony had it his way, they would lie together in this bed.
"or maybe you can just make sure i get some sleep tonight."