Steve Rogers (do_this_all_day) wrote in chances_rpg, @ 2022-01-15 21:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | mcu: steve rogers |
WHO: Tony Stark (MCU) & Steve Rogers
WHAT: Healing in a Hospital
WHERE: Area hospital
WHEN: Shortly after the Evil Santa Attack (December)
RATING: PG
STATUS: Completed via gdoc
The relationship between Steve and Tony was still a complicated one, despite the fact that Tony still loved Steve as a friend, he was still wounded by his actions and not sure if he could fully trust the face of America. But, knowing that you’re dying in the very near future tends to put a lot of things into perspective. At the end of the day, he knew that they both had mostly good intentions. And to be honest, there was a part of him that missed his friend. They had spent the last five years at home virtually not talking until Nat brought him to Tony’s doorstep to fix the time problem.
And, despite the complications, it didn’t mean that he hadn’t been worried when it came out that Steve had gone missing during the battle of Santa. Tony had been doing his best to fly around and keep people safe, but he had taken a backseat in this battle and was wondering if that had been the best move considering how many people had gotten injured.
Tony couldn’t pass the chance to mess with Steve though, and once he was found and the “important” people had seen him, Tony went up to his room, gift in hand. The gift in question was a t-shirt proudly proclaiming “I am Steve Rogers” and a hastily scribbled listing of phone numbers (Primarily Bucky and Peppers) to reach if found. Smirking to himself, he opened the door, but stayed in the door way.
“Hiya, Cap,” he greeted, waiting to be fully invited in.
"Tony!" Steve grinned at his friend from the middle of a mass of tubes and wires and beeping machines. Of course, his tongue got stuck on the 'n', because his mouth was full of cotton, so it felt like he was saying the name in molasses. With IVs going into both hands, it didn't really matter which one he waved, but he did so with a lot of enthusiastic flopping around of digits that didn't quite react his brain wanted them to. "I'm on so many drugs. So many. Come sit, and maybe you can laugh at me too. It's okay, I don't mind."
Okay, yes, he was a little high, but they'd been trying to get his pain managed for a solid 24 hours. A little loopiness was a small price to pay.
Tony’s eyebrows immediately shot up, surprised mostly, that his body was even able to get high. Though it’s not like this was something that they’d ever tested, that they’d ever really wanted to. “I uh… brought you a gift.” He grinned, and he tossed the shirt at him as he made his way into the room.
Maybe he should come back another time? He wasn’t really sure, but this seemed like as good a time to start bridging that gap as any. “You scared a lot of people with your disappearing act, you know?” His eyes scanned over the medical equipment, he would have to ask Bruce to come look at them later, as he was basically useless in this area of science.
“I would ask if you’re feeling okay, but it’s pretty obvious that you are.”
Using very slow and deliberate movements, Steve picked the shirt up from where it had landed on his chest and held it up. A little giggle tittered out of him. "Hey, this is me! Did you know they didn't know who I was? Or they didn't believe me." That's when his attention caught on what was written on the inside of the collar, which made him laugh even harder. Steve clutched at his side and winced, sucking in a breath even as he couldn't get his amusement under control. "Ow, god, you're as bad as Buck, but with far less glaring."
He dropped the shirt to his lap so he could put his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, sorry. It's not like I meant to. Guess I need to get in the habit of carrying my ID into fights, huh? I heard one of the lab techs call me a 'low-rent Captain America'. Ouch. But are you okay? Pepper? Morgan? How's The Station? 'S the clean up going all right?"
All things he'd asked Bucky, more or less, but he wanted to hear it from Tony. News weighed more when it came from his mouth, even if he didn't understand the references sometimes.
“Hey, hey, Take it easy.” Tony said, his eyebrows raised as he watched the other man's actions. It was strange seeing someone as indestructible as Steve in so much pain. He plucked up the shirt from Steve’s lap to fold it for him, needing something to do with his hands for a moment.
“Can’t blame them, who wouldn’t think people wanted to be you.” He shrugged his shoulders and put the shirt on the side table. “Pepper and Morgan are fine.” Tony finally broke a small smile at the words. He had been nervous, “All the teenagers playing hero seem fine too, from what I can tell on the network. The Station is in one piece, Pepper even put on her suit to help with clean up.”
“You had a buncha people worried about you.” He said gently, “I see you’ve talked to Bucky, what about your kid?”
Potent relief eased Steve back into the bed. It's like he didn't even know how tense he was until he heard what he needed from Tony. He smiled a bit at the mention of Pepper. Wasn't sure if Tony knew he got a certain softness in his eyes when he talked about his family, but it was good to see. Too bad it took Steve five years to be able to notice in the first place. "Woulda liked to see that. Pepper in her armor."
He started to ask if Tony might ever put on his own suit, but hesitated and then lost the question entirely at the last question. His back and shoulders went tight all over again, and he longed to have the shirt in his lap again, just so he could have something to focus on. "On the boards, a little. But he's—" not mine. Every part of his mind balked at saying the words aloud, even though they lurked in his head, coloring all of his interaction with the young man so far. Steve couldn't bring himself to put that kind of awful truth out in the world, even if it was right. "He's got you. The other you. Just like he had another me. And did he ever really have him? His dad? Four years old is so young. Too young. I don't think I'm the man he'd want me to be. I've done too many things." His gaze slid sideway to glance at Tony's face, to read his expression when he finished, "Hurt too many people."
Damn, even with the morphine slowly fading out of his system, it made a helluva truth serum.
“I would say you’ll get your chance but…” Tony let out a puff of air, “Honestly, I hope you don’t. I have it set to notify me whenever her suit is active, and I don’t know how she did it all those years, watching us go out to battle.” He shrugged a little.
Tony flopped down in a seat near the bed, but he scooted it towards the bed so that he could rest his elbows on the other man's bed. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Cap.” He said, gently. “We are the lucky ones… we both got more than we deserve.”
“When Morgan was born… when I held her tiny body… all I could think about was how I didn’t deserve her. How I had done so many wrong things in my life… and I had this perfect thing, looking at me like I was the best person in the world. I’m not sure if I’ll ever stop feeling like that, and she’s five.” He smirked.
“It’s typical to feel nervous about having a kid look up to you, but at the end of the day… The kid looks up to you, and to Tony. Congrats, Steve, it’s a teenager.”
The breath caught in Steve's lungs. To hear Tony, a man who for so long seemed to care only about his own self-interests—his company, his machines, even his relationship with Pepper—speak so eloquently about the joys of fatherhood… It caught Steve off guard and hit him like a punch in the gut. He couldn't say he was used to people using him as some kind ideal, but he knew it was a part of his reality in a way he couldn't shake. No matter how much he might want to.
His laugh was sudden and sharp, startled out of him and making his still-healing ribs protest a lot. "I guess it really doesn't matter that I'm not ready," he reasoned mostly to himself as his back eased back on to the bed. "Or that I'm not sure if another father is what James wants." Steve paused for a second, waiting for the newest flare of pain to pass. "Did I—Did I ever say I'm sorry? After everything, I don't think I really apologized."
“Yeah, things very rarely wait until you’re ready for them.” Tony said with a small smirk on his lips, but he put a reassuring hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I think you’ll do okay, Cap. Besides, if something happens, you can always blame the other Me, right?” He teased him gently. He was sure that Steve could handle being a dad, so many other people looked up to him. What was one more?
“You didn’t,” Tony half-grumbled out, but a shrug came to his shoulders. Maybe it had been an impossible decision, maybe Tony shouldn’t have cut Steve completely out of his life… but it had stung, the betrayal despite everything else they had gone through. Tony took in a long breath, “I think we’re past the time for apologies, Cap. Because then I would probably owe you one, and you know how limited those words are in my vocabulary.” He teased.
"Eh, blame is a young man's game, and I ain't been that for seventy-odd years." Steve chuckled lightly. He might have been on ice for seven decades, but it didn't mean he hadn't had a single thought the whole time. Sometimes his brain kicked up like a reel of film, playing his greatest hits and worst downfalls. Mostly the downfalls. But now wasn't the time to dredge up those memories. He resolved to try to reach out more, to be more present in James' life, if that's what he wanted. And if he didn't, well, Steve would weather that disappointment too.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he shook his head before rolling it toward Tony. It wasn't forgiveness; Steve wasn't sure he had any right to that, so he didn't ask. "I just figured Pepper put a reminder on your Stark watch or whatever for every ten years. Y'know, back when she used to work for you. Or you worked for her, and didn't know it." He winked, which might have been a mistake, since it pulled on his butterfly bandages in all the wrong ways. "Just air your apologies to the sky all in one go, and then save up for the next ten years. Pretty sure absolution doesn't exist for guys like us. Best we can do is do better going forward, right? Figure out a way to be better friends than we were before?"
Maybe too much to hope, but a drugged up guy could dream.
“It’s actually part of our New Year's traditions. I just write blanket apologies and release them with carrier pigeons and hope they end up somewhere useful.” Tony teased with a smirk. He saw the discomfort in Steve’s face and that worried him slightly. He had honestly never seen the other man so banged up. He put his hand on his shoulder again and squeezed gently.
“Yeah, Steve, We can do better. We need to. For our children.” He nodded, “Morgan needs her Uncle Steve.”
After another rib-aching bout of laughter, Steve sat back and gave his teammate—his friend—a small nod and a soft smile. The tears in his eyes were from amusement, really. Certainly not at all sentimental. Or maybe that was a lie, because for the first time since waking up, the tightness in his chest had nothing to do with his injuries. Hope was this tiny, newborn thing, perilously unsteady but so, so precious. "The feeling's mutual."