With his muscles and mind a little more whiskey-loose it doesn't take much encouragement for Tony to shift and almost melt right into Steve's side. This is an impossible situation but since when was that different for either of them? They dealt with things that most normal people couldn't even comprehend, let alone contend with. Somehow they'll get through this, if only because clearly that's what they want to do. They want to see through the end of this still hand in hand with each other.
Back in the lab Tony's fears really came down to one thing, and that's who Steve would pick. When faced with it. And making that choice for him seemed a lot easier than having to face the possible truth that it wouldn't be him. In the moment that had felt easier. Safer. But...
"No," he says simply, softly. They can put on a movie but it is highly unlikely it'll do anything to help him. He won't be able to sink into it, he'll just recede into his own messy headspace. It gives him the barest point of focus to just stare at but not really receive. He's too busy mentally thinking about a million other things and he just doesn't want to. "I need to turn off." If he doesn't there are many things liable to happen. But he's not used to that.
To putting something down while waiting for intel. Waiting is really not his strong suit. He likes to overanalyze and do everything himself. Charge in. Make things happen. It's a little frustrating that their initial game plan relies on other people. One of which is deep in hiding. And just like that, "Once we find out where Fury is we'll take the Quinjet. Odds are he'll know we're coming. Not that I don't trust Nat but the suddenness of this might make her want to at least alert him." And even if Fury's not one to run from anything, if he has the heads-up he'll know exactly what lies to service, if need be. Tony wants to cut through the fat of that.
But he hears himself saying this, going right back into planning because yes, he really can't sit. He can't. It's impossible for him. He heaves a sigh, this one far more exasperated than anything else. With himself and the situation. "Should've just listened to you to start," he says this immediately after, brain changing gears as he puts his hands at Steve's shoulders to push him further back against the couch and in one clean, though slightly wobbly, sweep he moves to position himself atop his lap, knees resting against his thighs. "What was it you were saying? Other ways to turn your brain off that you like more? Maybe I should try some of that." After all, next to drinking, there was one other way Tony coped with his problems.
no subject
Back in the lab Tony's fears really came down to one thing, and that's who Steve would pick. When faced with it. And making that choice for him seemed a lot easier than having to face the possible truth that it wouldn't be him. In the moment that had felt easier. Safer. But...
"No," he says simply, softly. They can put on a movie but it is highly unlikely it'll do anything to help him. He won't be able to sink into it, he'll just recede into his own messy headspace. It gives him the barest point of focus to just stare at but not really receive. He's too busy mentally thinking about a million other things and he just doesn't want to. "I need to turn off." If he doesn't there are many things liable to happen. But he's not used to that.
To putting something down while waiting for intel. Waiting is really not his strong suit. He likes to overanalyze and do everything himself. Charge in. Make things happen. It's a little frustrating that their initial game plan relies on other people. One of which is deep in hiding. And just like that, "Once we find out where Fury is we'll take the Quinjet. Odds are he'll know we're coming. Not that I don't trust Nat but the suddenness of this might make her want to at least alert him." And even if Fury's not one to run from anything, if he has the heads-up he'll know exactly what lies to service, if need be. Tony wants to cut through the fat of that.
But he hears himself saying this, going right back into planning because yes, he really can't sit. He can't. It's impossible for him. He heaves a sigh, this one far more exasperated than anything else. With himself and the situation. "Should've just listened to you to start," he says this immediately after, brain changing gears as he puts his hands at Steve's shoulders to push him further back against the couch and in one clean, though slightly wobbly, sweep he moves to position himself atop his lap, knees resting against his thighs. "What was it you were saying? Other ways to turn your brain off that you like more? Maybe I should try some of that." After all, next to drinking, there was one other way Tony coped with his problems.