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
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."