Tony would love to argue with Steve, at the very least that he probably knows himself better than Steve does but... is that even true anymore? He has no idea. Sometimes Steve is so in sync with him that he wonders if the serum gave him mind reading abilities and he's just been too polite to ever mention it. Would drinking help? In all the ways Tony thinks it'll help, but Steve's got a point. If he lets himself go overboard he'll probably have a very bad time. And if he doesn't want Steve to look at him while he's a ball of emotion, drinking will only enhance that. No matter what lies he wants to tell himself about it.
But that doesn't mitigate the itch. The feeling like he needs to be sipping at a glass of something fresh and dark.
He sits still, though a little rigidly, while Steve shifts closer to him. And it's not because he doesn't want Steve close, he's realizing he just kind of wants to reach out and grab him. But it's everything else. The last thing he wants right now are platitudes- even if he knows Steve's not the kind of man to serve them. It still sounds like it. Especially anything having to do with strength. Something that Tony thinks he has very little of. He just knows how to get up and carry on, that's all. And usually can figure everything out if he gives himself enough time. That's not strength.
His shoulders come down again, same as always in that he doesn't realize he's sitting so tightly until he's coming off of it. But when Steve talks to him so softly, when he rests his head against him, he just feels...
A long breath gets pushed out from his lungs, something that turns into a little chuckle near the end of it and he shakes his head. "You have a real problem with that. You're very bossy." Not that Tony doesn't love it in most instances, anyway. Maybe half and half.
Looking at Steve, he takes a moment longer than he means to, time slowing a bit for him as his thoughts get a touch fuzzier. "I can't- right now. I know you don't mean for it to sound like you think it's easy- letting go- just. Not right now." Never, if he has anything to say about it. It's just not a time in his life he wants to emotionally revisit. Not like that. "I'll do all that- grieve," a little wry twist as he says it, like the word is dirty the more he contemplates the action of it. "When we're finished. When it's done." Like he shouldn't be allowed to until they see it through to the end.
"Until then I just need..." He has no idea. Has he ever known what he actually needs in life? His eyes fall to his empty glass again, tilting it in his hand. A drink. He needs another drink. But with that out of the mix... "Anything else. Something else. To fill the space while we're waiting for intel." His eyes raise to Steve again and then he looks at all the food he'd abandoned to come snuggle up. "You should eat more." As if he has any right to say that to someone else.
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But that doesn't mitigate the itch. The feeling like he needs to be sipping at a glass of something fresh and dark.
He sits still, though a little rigidly, while Steve shifts closer to him. And it's not because he doesn't want Steve close, he's realizing he just kind of wants to reach out and grab him. But it's everything else. The last thing he wants right now are platitudes- even if he knows Steve's not the kind of man to serve them. It still sounds like it. Especially anything having to do with strength. Something that Tony thinks he has very little of. He just knows how to get up and carry on, that's all. And usually can figure everything out if he gives himself enough time. That's not strength.
His shoulders come down again, same as always in that he doesn't realize he's sitting so tightly until he's coming off of it. But when Steve talks to him so softly, when he rests his head against him, he just feels...
A long breath gets pushed out from his lungs, something that turns into a little chuckle near the end of it and he shakes his head. "You have a real problem with that. You're very bossy." Not that Tony doesn't love it in most instances, anyway. Maybe half and half.
Looking at Steve, he takes a moment longer than he means to, time slowing a bit for him as his thoughts get a touch fuzzier. "I can't- right now. I know you don't mean for it to sound like you think it's easy- letting go- just. Not right now." Never, if he has anything to say about it. It's just not a time in his life he wants to emotionally revisit. Not like that. "I'll do all that- grieve," a little wry twist as he says it, like the word is dirty the more he contemplates the action of it. "When we're finished. When it's done." Like he shouldn't be allowed to until they see it through to the end.
"Until then I just need..." He has no idea. Has he ever known what he actually needs in life? His eyes fall to his empty glass again, tilting it in his hand. A drink. He needs another drink. But with that out of the mix... "Anything else. Something else. To fill the space while we're waiting for intel." His eyes raise to Steve again and then he looks at all the food he'd abandoned to come snuggle up. "You should eat more." As if he has any right to say that to someone else.