Choice was a pretty word that didn’t apply to a large part of the population. Jarvis had none. One step the wrong direction and he’d end up just like his parents; knelt down, shot in the head, left to rot on the ground somewhere as collateral damage to someone else’s poor choices. Tony was just as stuck. Mistakes from him could result in Jarvis being dragged out (or worse), never mind what might happen if someone decided to withhold the treatments he needed for any real length of time. A few days on either side happened, a pointed reminder, but too long and it would be a slow, painful deterioration. They were leverage for one another and no one else, and usually Jarvis could respect that and keep his head down, but even the meek had a breaking point.
“Last time, you were provoking him,” Jarvis muttered, shoulders bunching. He felt restless, uneasy in his own skin. Not at all prone to fidgeting, he nevertheless drummed fingers on the bend of his knee before catching the movement, grimacing, and glancing aside like he was ashamed to watch himself unravel. Maybe he was. Shame felt like a luxury, though. There were worse things. “Not that he was much better. You’re not wrong about his temper, but that is why you should talk to him.”
Seizing on the idea, Jarvis tipped his chin up, suddenly lively instead of hunched like he was anticipating a blow. “He’s not wrong. You know he’s not wrong. He’s just… going about things in a bad way. Impulsively. Too much feeling and not enough planning.” Tony was smarter than that. That was what Rogers needed. He didn’t need to sit down and shut up. He needed guidance. A plan. Someone capable of navigating the minefield that existed all around, always treacherous, never safe to navigate without help. One man with passion was nothing but a walking, very animated corpse. Resources and help would make a difference, though, and maybe that was what needed to happen.
Then again, Jarvis was more than a little invested in Tony’s continued survival and well-being, and shoving him together with Rogers was tantamount to tying him to an anchor and throwing him in deep water. It wasn’t viable. Not… yet. “Checking on him isn’t asking him to be your new best friend. It’s not even inviting him here.” Jarvis paused, mouth twitching into something that was probably meant to be a smile. Mostly it looked pained. “And if you do invite him, I’m not leaving you two alone again.” He’d have to play the creepy, silent sentinel in the corner, but he’d done it before. It wasn’t even hard. “But you could make sure he’s recovered and not currently bleeding from his ears or experiencing some other detrimental side effect.”