WHO: Tony & Kent W WHAT: It's been a hard day's night... WHEN: March 26, 2020 | Afternoon WHERE: Their Home RATING: High: suggestive dialog/actions, language, feelings
On top of everything that had utterly fucking sucked about the last 36 hours and some change, Kent hadn't been able to go home to check on his husband after he'd experienced nothing short of a severe trauma. He had every confidence in Cate's boundless caring abilities, but the guilt still gnawed at his insides. Made him snappish and rude about a thousand percent more yell-y. The medical staff were understanding; the much less experienced studio types had been terrified. (It probably didn't help that he hadn't yet changed out of the scrubs he'd been using to treat his brother at that point, but it's not like he'd done it on purpose. Maybe.)
Served them fucking right.
He apparated home, showered and in the change of clothes he kept in the studio's medical office, but he landed in the back, just so he could breathe. Get himself into some semblance of control. It worked by degrees, but barely. Kent pushed inside and dropped his stuff by the door before going on the hunt for his husband. He could have used a spell, sure, but he was tired and his limbs felt heavy, and magic was such an effort. "Tony? Hey, are you around?"
Tony, who was normally a sound sleeper, hadn't been able to keep his eyes closed during the last day. He wasn't sleeping now, curled up on the loveseat and staring at nothing in the darkened living room, but he stirred at the sound of Kent's voice anyway like he was coming out of a deep sleep. "In here," he answered, injecting a brightness into his voice he couldn't quite get into his expression, and stood, stretching out the kink in his back. "Hi. Is Rafe still okay? Are you okay? I didn't let Cate eat all the lasagna, I'll heat you up some if you're hungry. Don't worry, I didn't make it."
Without even seeing his face, Kent heard the forced cheer in Tony's delivery. He knew as soon as he spotted him those suspicions would be fact. It's not like he could blame his husband for trying, but it touched on this part of him that was vaguely irritated by the idea of the false front. He tabled this, shoved it deep, but not deep enough to keep his own voice from coming out a little gruff. "Not hungry," he lied, coming around into the living room and immediately into the other's space. His arms were around Tony with no other preamble but that little white mistruth, and he pulled his husband close. It was easy to disregard the question of his own wellbeing, since he knew which one was the most important in this instance. "He's fine. I discharged him home a couple of hours ago. He's going to be sore, but he'll be just fine, I promise."
Tony sighed in relief so strong it made him feel dizzy, his head falling down to rest on Kent's shoulder as he slid his arms around his husband's waist in turn. "I'm so glad. Merlin, if he hadn't—" He stopped, his throat getting thick and his eyes filling up with tears. "I'm so sorry, baby. I could've killed him, and I would've killed Ari if Rafe hadn't— and I'm just so, so sorry for not realizing what..." His voice cracked and failed at the end there, and he pressed his face into Kent's shirt to take deep breaths of his clean, safe scent and squeezed his arms around him. "I never meant to hurt anybody."
His heart cracked wide open, swallowing up all of the irritation and anger until all that was left was concern and sympathy. Kent held his husband tight, sliding a hand into his hair while the other stayed planted in the middle of his back. "I know, baby. No one's blaming you, least of all my brother. You didn't know. You had no way of knowing. It was someone else's fuck up, not yours. And I know I could keep telling you this until we're both hearing it—and I'll probably keep on telling you anyway, 'cause I'm a stubborn asshole—but I doubt you're going to believe it until you're good and ready to. This wasn't your fault, and no one thinks it is. It was an accident, and Rafe is fine, and Ari is fine, and you'll be fine too. Maybe not right now, but you will be fine."
"Okay. Okay, I know," Tony said into his shirt, and sniffled, squeezing his eyes shut so the tears would run out. "I'm still sorry. I just—I'm okay, sweetheart." He breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm himself down, because Kent had been working for a ridiculous number of hours straight, and probably without proper rest or food, knowing him, and even in his heightened emotional state Tony knew he didn't want to put any more of this gnawing fear and guilt on him.
After a moment he was able to lift his head enough to look at Kent, not quite able to smile just yet, but at least the tears had stopped. "Are you sure you're not hungry? Did you eat at the hospital?"
Kent didn't know how much he believed this I'm okay, but calling his husband a liar wasn't going to make him feel any better no matter how much love he tried to put into it. His fingers continued to card through the other's hair, and then settled back in a loose hold against his neck when he moved back a little. Rather than give up his hold, however, he slid his hand around and gently brushed at the still wet tracks. "I'm not—" The words were barely out of his mouth before his stomach gave a loud gurgle. He glared down at it. "That's enough out of you, you fucking traitor."
Color rode high on his cheeks, and when he looked back at Tony it was with a sheepish smile. "I should eat, probably. Obviously. Last thing I had was a packet of fish crackers from the vending machine just before shift change this morning. I think. Or was that last night? Healer heal thyself is a goddamn joke most of the time." Kent let the smile slide from his face. It sat all wrong anyway. "Have you had anything today? Have you slept at all?"
Tony smiled back at him, because he'd totally called it that Kent hadn't been taking care of himself, even if the smile wasn't much of a smile. He leaned in to kiss him softly, though he pulled away before he could get lost in Kent's mouth like he tended to do. "Yeah, Cate made me eat. And we rested. I'll sleep when you do. Right now I think it's my turn to make you eat."
He smiled at him once more, a little more convincing this time, then wiped his eyes with his sleeve and turned to head for the kitchen. "Wanna put your stuff away, honey? I'll heat up a plate for you. And I'm gonna sit and watch you eat it."
Even just that little show of affection was enough to leave Kent a little dazed, which happened pretty much every time. "'S good. Eating's good." He blinked and shook his head a little, like he might be able to rattle something back into place. It worked to a point, because he grabbed his bag as requested and started to take it to the room he used for an office before he stopped in the door. Sudden worry rooted him where he was, and he turned back uncertainly. "Okay, a) that's still weird, and b) are you...sure? You could come with me. Won't even take two minutes."
And I don't want to leave you alone again.
That comment sparked a bit of real amusement in the way Tony always got when Kent was being ridiculous but in an adorable way. He turned around and crossed the room again to take Kent's face between his hands and kiss his forehead fondly. "You're the weird one in this marriage, Cate and I are totally normal. But sure. C'mon, baby."
He followed Kent into his office and leaned against the doorframe to watch him put his things away. "About Rafe," he started, more tentative than he ever was. "Do you think he would… would he and Ari want to see me after what happened? Maybe I should just send flowers or food or something. I don't think they make a greeting card for 'sorry I stabbed you, feel better soon'."
An argument could have been made for the relative levels of weird to all parties living in this house, but Kent very wisely decided against voicing it just this once. It wasn't that he didn't think Tony could take it, but there was a time and place, and this really wasn't it. He was a little ashamed by how relieved he was when the other acquiesced. It was another point he could have argued, but he knew he wouldn't have pushed, even while every step away would have increased his anxious concern exponentially. Of course, all of this was a moot point, but Kent was an unfortunate master of building a thousand situational arguments between one breath and the next but only using about 0.05%.
He wasn't exactly taking his time in getting his work gear put away, but some things required more care than others. The last of the potions he always kept on hand, even at the nomaj hospital, were almost back in their places when that question caught Kent right in the chest. "I know my brother would. I think Ari would too, but I don't know him outside of being Rafe's boyfriend. He seemed okay, now that I'm not ready to blame him for putting my big brother in the hospital." The smile he'd directed Tony's way froze. For a genius, he was so very stupid sometimes. Often. Fucking frequently, actually. He drew his hand down his face and shook his head. "Bad phrasing. I just mean I think they'd like that. If you went by. Or I can find a card in the gift shop at the hospital. You'd be surprised the weird shit they make cards for."
Despite Kent's immediate backtracking from his remark about blame, it still made Tony lower his head in renewed guilt, crossing his arms over his chest as his mind wandered down the dark path of blame and recrimination for the hundredth time since he'd nearly killed his brother-in-law. "Yeah," he agreed, low. "I don't know, they probably have enough on their minds right now and I shouldn't go." His eyes were damp again, and he brushed his sleeve across his eyes once more, avoiding looking up at Kent. "Sorry. I'm all over the place right now. Um… we were gonna get you some food. Are you done in here, baby?"
"No," he growled, low and mostly to himself. "Fuck." Kent was back in front of his husband again in just the time it took to get across the room. His hands hovered uncertainly and then landed on Tony's arms. He put a gentle pressure on them, trying to get them around him again. "No, fuck," he cursed again, "I'm the one who's sorry. Text them, at the very least. I know Rafe would want to hear from you." Lifting a hand, he brushed at the tear tracks and then cupped the side of his neck. They were standing so close their breaths mingled, and Kent wished he could imbue some small measure of calm and the knowledge of misclaimed responsibility to the man that held half his heart. "It's okay, Tony. I swear it's going to be okay. Maybe not right away, but it will be. I love you, and it's not your fault, and no one thinks it is."
"I do." Tony drew in a difficult breath, still unable to lift his eyes to Kent's. "And that's—I know it's not actually my fault and it was an accident, all this stuff you and Cate keep saying, and I love you so much for saying it, but I feel like I did something wrong. I had the wrong sword, Kent. I was holding it the whole time, and we rehearsed it so many times with the stunt one, and I should have known it wasn't the same one. I don't—" He shuddered, crowding in against Kent's body again, his arms unfolding and his hands coming to rest on his husband's waist for the physical support he needed. "I think the way it felt was different. I think I noticed that before, or maybe I'm just imagining that I did. But I should have figured it out. You would've figured it out. Rafe did, and that's the only reason Ari's not dead, but I—I should have known."
More than a million words in the English language, and not one of them would fall into a pattern that Kent thought would help. He just kept touching Tony, little brushes of his hand through his hair and over his shoulders and across his back. It was a sense of helplessness he hadn't even felt when he'd been treating his brother the day and night before, or even back at Valentine's Day. Those were problems he knew how to solve. He pressed a kiss to Tony's temple and then his cheek and then the corner of his mouth. "What can I do?" he murmured, low and soft and aching. "What can I do to help you?"
Tony squeezed his eyes shut and leaned in against him, allowing Kent to support him and comfort him with those little touches, those soft brushes of his lips. "Just hold me, baby," he breathed on a sigh. "That helps. I'm sorry. I don't want to be like this, I just—" He leaned his forehead against Kent's, his voice soft and fervent and tinged with the desperation he felt to keep him close. "I'll keep it together for Cate, I promise. She's been incredible. I don't know what I would do without you two, so please don't stop loving me, okay? Even if I'm an idiot who almost killed your brother." His throat was thick; he had to stop to swallow down any more desperate pleas, and just clung to Kent, his fingers tight in his shirt.
"Of course we won't." Kent tried to temper the fierceness of his reply with another kiss, this one most definitely aimed at taking Tony's brain temporarily offline. It was the one thing he'd told himself not to do, but that level of pain called for a proportionate, if silent, response. He pushed the entirety of his boundless feelings into something that was far beyond a mere press of lips or a slip of tongue or even the quiet sounds of desperate concern coming from his throat. His entire focus was on this one moment, and when he finally broke it, he found he'd crowded his husband into the doorjamb with only his hand at the back of Tony's head keeping it from the hard wooden surface. There was definitely a breathless quality to his words when he continued. "And you're not an idiot. And you get to feel however you damn well want to feel, because I know Cate would be just as upset as I'll be if we find out you're bottling this shit up for her or even our sakes."
If there was one thing that always stopped Tony from thinking about anything but the immediate present, it was Kent kissing him like that, with an intoxicating single-minded focus that could make Tony forget what he'd been talking about, where they were, what year it was, and his own name. By the time Kent pulled away, he was very grateful for the support behind him and Kent holding him up, because he'd gone weak at the knees.
He sucked in oxygen and ran his tongue over his lips, already missing the heat of Kent's mouth. "Yeah," he said, dazedly willing to agree to anything Kent wanted from him. "Yeah, okay. I won't." Tony took another deep breath, his hands wandering restlessly over Kent's back. "I love you. So much. Kiss me again."
Kent had enough emotional intelligence to realize that this was just a distraction and a substitution, and he believed down to his toenails that Tony knew it too on some level that wasn't glassy-eyed with pupils blown to an eclipsing black. He really did know better than this, but even the tiny, shriveled, and fading voice of his conscience couldn't keep him from diving right back in and slotting their bodies together in a way that always made his husband moan. It was a cheap trick, and maybe he would apologize for it later.
Much later.
Tony couldn't think at all with Kent pressed against him like that, using three years' worth of knowledge of exactly what pushed every button he had, and that was its own kind of relief. By the time he broke away from that all-consuming kiss again to pant for air, he was a wreck in a totally different way than he had been for the last day and a half: his heart pounding, his cheeks flushed, his whole body pleading for more touch, more heat, just more. He tipped his head back against the doorway, trying to even out his breaths as his hands wandered up Kent's chest, mapping out familiar muscle and bone under his shirt.
Words felt almost impossible, and after this long Kent probably should've been able to read his mind, but he made the attempt anyway. "Couch?" he suggested after a moment of trying to make his brain and tongue work together. "Now?"
Something devilish worked its way into the little smile that lifted the edges of Kent's mouth, and he nodded. His fingers hooked themselves into Tony's belt loops, but he delayed their trip to a horizontal surface just long enough to lick a stripe along that too tempting neck and nip at his pulse point. "Definitely couch now," he practically growled the words into Tony's skin. "And I love you too, by the way, in case that wasn't clear."
He maneuvered them from the door and along the hallway, pausing only a couple of times to shove a hand up Tony's shirt to feel the tensing of his stomach as he kissed him again. The only missing component to this was their wife, but he knew she'd understand. They would just have to make it up to her later. Just as they were crossing into the living room so Kent could continue his work on taking his husband apart, the floo connection flared up. He glanced toward it, wondering if maybe chance or coincidence had heard his inner-thought, but the medium sized package that shot through definitely wasn't Cate-shaped. It skidded to a stop at their feet. "Expecting something?" His gaze caught on the return address. "Looks like it's from Rafe."
Biting was really not fair, and after that it was all Tony could do to stay on his feet as Kent steered him into the living room. He barely even noticed the flash of the floo opening, and it took him a moment of blinking to understand what Kent had said. His fingers tightened in his husband's shirt again, a wave of guilt-ridden trepidation washing over him at the thought of Rafe. "Oh," he said unsteadily, and took a deep breath, and crouched down to pick up the package.
His hands fumbled a little opening it, but he eventually managed to peel open the paper and look down blankly at a foil wrapped loaf of something that smelled like warm sweetness and comfort, with a note sitting on top of it. Tony handed the bread distractedly to Kent and opened the note, scanning it only briefly before he sagged in relief. "Ari," he murmured. "Letting me know Rafe's fine and they hope we're doing okay, and he made us banana bread. Baby, they don't hate me."
Putting aside the jump in esteem he suddenly had for his brother's boyfriend as well as sending the banana bread he'd sent into the kitchen, Kent put his hands on Tony's waist and stepped back in. There was a smile on his face as he leaned his head down to rub his scruff against the sensitive skin of his throat and rumbled a gentle, but amused (and a little smug), "Told you so. Still wanna hit the couch?"
All the tangled emotions and fears of the past two days weren't exactly banished by Ari's simple note, but they were greatly relieved, enough for Tony to relax, enough for him to smile as he ran his hands through Kent's hair. "Yeah," he sighed. "I really do, baby. But Cate will be home soon, so you should eat first, and we can pick this up later. On the couch or anywhere, I don't care. I want you both." He urged Kent's head back up with his hands in his hair, and kissed him again. Soft and sweet, this time, with none of the urgency or desperation of before. "Thank you, Samael," he said half into his husband's mouth. "I know how lucky I am. Thank you."
A shivery pleasure went down Kent's spine, but it was easily overwhelmed by the rush of happiness he felt on his husband's behalf. The plan was a sound and agreeable one, and it drove him into another kiss as he backed Tony onto the couch and got him settled with his head tipped back while Kent tenderly clasped the back of his neck to keep him where he wanted him. There was nothing but love and promise in his gaze as he pulled back just long enough to say, "Siempre, mi amor."