The second Steve makes a move towards him he backs up, suddenly feeling like a caged animal. Which is absurd. This is his lab- but their place. What a mess. Could he even tell Steve to leave? Even if he had authority to do so, he knows he could never make him. But that's all he wants to do. All he wants Steve to do the very second he confirms that Tony's right. Not that that's a surprise. He usually is.
In a moment like this he wished Steve was someone else. Anyone else. Someone who might've lied to him. Instead of Steve Rogers. And his perpetual honesty. Even the brutal kind. The kind that pierces like a bullet, and Tony quickly folds his arms again. Defensive. Protective.
And when Steve reaches out he shies away from that too in one quick jarring move. A sharp shift back of his shoulder and then a few paces away. "Well, you should." Trying to shut it all down. Himself the most. This was inevitable, wasn't it? This was the way it was always going to be. "You should go back out there and find him before I do," darkly stated. Threateningly. "Because then you'll really have to choose. And I already got the sneak peek on that one. So. If you could do me one last kindness and spare me a repeat. That's all I ask."
It's worse than fighting. When he turns, gaze absent from Steve's own, he's shutting him off. Out. Making the quick and all too simple judgement that Steve just shouldn't be worth his time anymore. And that's worse than fighting. If he got in Steve's face, if they argued, they'd work it through. They always do. But he doesn't want that. Knows he's too weak. He'll crumble the second Steve starts in on him. They'll fall into it the way they always do. The way they always have. He tells himself not to do it. To just be angry and hurt. On his own. He's better off that way. A lesson he should've learned far sooner than now. Maybe one day he'll get through to himself.
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In a moment like this he wished Steve was someone else. Anyone else. Someone who might've lied to him. Instead of Steve Rogers. And his perpetual honesty. Even the brutal kind. The kind that pierces like a bullet, and Tony quickly folds his arms again. Defensive. Protective.
And when Steve reaches out he shies away from that too in one quick jarring move. A sharp shift back of his shoulder and then a few paces away. "Well, you should." Trying to shut it all down. Himself the most. This was inevitable, wasn't it? This was the way it was always going to be. "You should go back out there and find him before I do," darkly stated. Threateningly. "Because then you'll really have to choose. And I already got the sneak peek on that one. So. If you could do me one last kindness and spare me a repeat. That's all I ask."
It's worse than fighting. When he turns, gaze absent from Steve's own, he's shutting him off. Out. Making the quick and all too simple judgement that Steve just shouldn't be worth his time anymore. And that's worse than fighting. If he got in Steve's face, if they argued, they'd work it through. They always do. But he doesn't want that. Knows he's too weak. He'll crumble the second Steve starts in on him. They'll fall into it the way they always do. The way they always have. He tells himself not to do it. To just be angry and hurt. On his own. He's better off that way. A lesson he should've learned far sooner than now. Maybe one day he'll get through to himself.