There are still things Tony thinks they're vastly unprepared for. The wind-up to Ultron's creation had been specifically about those things. And to have Steve put his finger in that bruise gets a wince out of him. They always do this to each other. Know exactly where to hit. It drives him crazy. But...
He also loves it. Steve pushes him, cracks him, like nobody else ever has. And now, at the end of the day, at the end of all of that whether they're bickering or actually fighting, they also then get to come home to each other. It's an intoxicating thing and yes Tony wants to hold onto it with both hands and never let go. But he's not sure about this. Trying to preserve himself early where he sees an outcome that's going to destroy him either way.
"I'm not giving up, I'm offering both of us a kindness we're not gonna get once we go out there," he tries to argue back. Tries to stay squarely in the lane of merely incensed and not angry. But it's too easy to slip into, especially considering he is bucking off intense rage over the very new and raw news that his parents were murdered. It's too much right now and he wishes Steve were anyone else. Anyone else that would've folded, crumpled, given in. Agreed with Tony and walked away.
But he wouldn't, would he? Because he's Steve fucking Rogers. "I ask you to make the best choice for both of us and you can't even do that." He finally stops cocooning himself, arms unwinding so that he can put his hands on Steve's shoulders. They probably look ridiculous. He has no idea what the two of them are even doing anymore. He just...
"None of this is easy. And if you think that's where I'm coming at this from, I don't know where you've been the past few months. No. Of course I don't wanna walk away. But I don't wanna lose the version of you that-" The words die immediately, lips pressing together, head tilting down for a second. The version of Steve that he loves. The one that loves him back. Endlessly. And the one that would always pick him, where others wouldn't. Pick him first. And the irony isn't lost on him. That this is where he finds himself, after always picking Pepper second so often that it ruined their relationship.
Someone else might call it poetry. He steadies himself and tries again. "We go out there together, like this," he warns, eyes up again to take in Steve's gaze. "We won't come back the same. I know you're not stupid. Foolishly hopeful, maybe. Sure. And I love that about you, even when it's worn out its welcome. But not stupid."
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He also loves it. Steve pushes him, cracks him, like nobody else ever has. And now, at the end of the day, at the end of all of that whether they're bickering or actually fighting, they also then get to come home to each other. It's an intoxicating thing and yes Tony wants to hold onto it with both hands and never let go. But he's not sure about this. Trying to preserve himself early where he sees an outcome that's going to destroy him either way.
"I'm not giving up, I'm offering both of us a kindness we're not gonna get once we go out there," he tries to argue back. Tries to stay squarely in the lane of merely incensed and not angry. But it's too easy to slip into, especially considering he is bucking off intense rage over the very new and raw news that his parents were murdered. It's too much right now and he wishes Steve were anyone else. Anyone else that would've folded, crumpled, given in. Agreed with Tony and walked away.
But he wouldn't, would he? Because he's Steve fucking Rogers. "I ask you to make the best choice for both of us and you can't even do that." He finally stops cocooning himself, arms unwinding so that he can put his hands on Steve's shoulders. They probably look ridiculous. He has no idea what the two of them are even doing anymore. He just...
"None of this is easy. And if you think that's where I'm coming at this from, I don't know where you've been the past few months. No. Of course I don't wanna walk away. But I don't wanna lose the version of you that-" The words die immediately, lips pressing together, head tilting down for a second. The version of Steve that he loves. The one that loves him back. Endlessly. And the one that would always pick him, where others wouldn't. Pick him first. And the irony isn't lost on him. That this is where he finds himself, after always picking Pepper second so often that it ruined their relationship.
Someone else might call it poetry. He steadies himself and tries again. "We go out there together, like this," he warns, eyes up again to take in Steve's gaze. "We won't come back the same. I know you're not stupid. Foolishly hopeful, maybe. Sure. And I love that about you, even when it's worn out its welcome. But not stupid."