Work Text:
There were many types of silences, each with their own form, weight, color, and feelings.
Soft, and unreal, blue-like in color, were the nameless hours of the not-night, not-morning when things were still and sleepy and heavy. When things hung suspended, as if waiting for the next day, corners fuzzy and everything almost round.
Light filled your chest cavity in the morning before your brain started worrying, so full and heady it replaced your breathing. For a moment, you feel like you'll float to the ceiling, bouncing lightly as if a balloon.
Buzzing, and orange without being quite orange, was the moment of concentration, of focus, of almost getting to a goal. Spiky and powerful, but soft, it fought against your skull as if it needed out to fulfill itself, numbing as it burned into your fingers, your mouth, your brain.
Sharp red, biting at your throat, was battle. Bursts of hot, electric blue in between moments of adrenaline.
Exhaustion at night was a red that was purple trying to cover your eyes, twisting in circles in your back, weighing down your shoulders. It was cocooning you in spider silk that slowly wrapped around you, as if to escape detection. Yet it was not always warm and sleepy and soft, but sometimes harsh.
Exhaustion at day was a green that was orange, or red, that spider silk puppet strings pushing you through the motions, dragging you slowly to the red that is purple, everything slowing down while also accelerating.
Conversations not spoken were too many to think- anger, repressed, a forthy, bubbly blue, green, orange mixture in your center. Loneliness, the soft and unreal, blue-like in color of the nameless hours, but sharper, more defined, distinct, almost jagged, painful. The silence of company without words was a calming weight, pushing you smaller and smaller, an eddy of unidentifiable colors washing through you.
The silence of love not spoken. A nasty purple, pink-esque mixture, orange in your throat, filling and sloshing in you, trying to drive you to action, to overfill, to overspill. And the heaviest for the questions it brought, the what if, what if, what if ?
-
Even with loud rock music, which Jarvis had turned off immediately, and the whir of power tools he used for his suits, Steve had fallen asleep. The
what if what if what if
burned and sloshed around him, Tony stilled to a somber silence below it.
Of course, Steve, being Captain America, looked beautiful as he lay sprawled on the couch in his workshop. His mouth open, one hand across his chest with a pencil loosely trapped in it, his other following his sketchbook to the ground. The chaos spinning the room as Tony sat and looked grew calmer, quieter, standing still and softer around him. What if, what if, what if . Tony was exhausted, unsure of what time of day it was. The silence beneath the twirling weight was dragging at him, the what if pulling him to Steve even as he sat still. To fall into that warmth, that strength, that stillness-
He sighed, looking at the floor before setting down his tools as quietly as he could, Dum-E rolling over and making curious beeps, looking between him and Steve.
"Shush, let him sleep, you idiot." He hissed at Dum-E, who dropped his whole arm before bobbing it back up. "Jarvis?"
"Sir?"
"Calm down your idiot brother before I shut him off."
"He's uncontrollable and rather excited."
Dum-E beeped like R2D2- why had Tony done that, or had it been a prank from the team, he couldn't keep track - when a snort came from the couch, Steve turning onto his side. Tony swiped at Dum-E, who ran away.
To Steve.
The spinning sped up, and Tony was halfway out of his seat until Dum-E picked up Steve's sketchbook, rolling back towards him and handing it to him.
"Thank you, now calm down." Tony took it, closing the book before setting it by him.
Dum-E just beeped, picking it up and shoving it in his face.
Resisting the urge to growl, Tony took it, setting it back down.
Dum-E went to pick the book up again, and Tony blocked him.
"Dum-E, that is rather personal." Jarvis chimed in as Tony held it above his head.
"Is that my sketchbook?"
Tony turned around, silence screaming as he held Dum-E back with one arm and the sketchbook above his head, slowly lowering it as he saw Steve sitting up.
"I don't know what's wrong with him. I think he thinks its mine."
Dum-E beeped loudly, Steve laughing.
What if, what if, what if-
Tony tried to hand the book to Dum-E, pointing at Steve.
"You know what? Dummy is too nice of a name for you, idiot."
Dum-E didn't look back as he raced away from him.
"Tony, be nice to your robots."
"How am I supposed to when he behaves like this?"
"Okay, it's either really late or really early, I think we both need beds."
Logically, he knew he meant separate beds, but Tony's brain stopped, the spinning silence stopping as they looked at each other.
"Indeed, Captain. Sir has been up for almost four days now." Jarvis chimed in, making Tony jump.
"Bed."
"Armor." He gestured at the jagged, curled metal from the energy blast he had taken during a battle the other day.
“Tony-”
“Captain, I could always shut off all power in the workshop to force him to leave.”
“J, don’t you fucking-”
Everything whirred before shutting down, the sudden silence buzzing and small. Steve laughed again as Tony grumbled, his loud and warm laugh coming from the couch and shadows engulfing the far reaches of his workshop.
Tony tried to not yawn but felt the light from his arc reactor flash into his eyes as he dropped his chin to his chest, shoulders hunching and spine rounding.
Next thing he knew, strong hands were under his arms, pulling him off his workbench and towards the light in the hallway outside, and he hastily dug his feet in, trying to backtrack.
“The workshop isn’t going to go back online anytime soon, you need sleep-”
“I’ll plug it into my goddamn chest, I’ve done it before-”
They stopped.
“You’ve powered your entire workshop with your arc reactor? That’s-”
“Brilliant?” Tony suggested.
“Dangerous, that thing is keeping you alive.”
He twisted around slightly to look back -and up- at Steve, who had gotten quieter as he spoke. There was a horrified look at his face as he looked down at Tony, and they stood there.
“Tony-” He started, stopping.
“Captain America at a loss of words? Never thought I’d see the day.”
Instead of getting snark back, that annoyed look crossing his face whenever Tony said something like that, Steve’s face went unreadable and he redoubled his efforts to haul him out of the workshop.
“Fine, I’m going, I’m going.” He threw up his hands in defeat, walking out, a powerful hand gripping his shoulder as if Steve expected him to run back in. And well, if Steve insisted ...
They got to the lift, Tony turning immediately to rest his head on the cool metal of the walls.
A silence inside the whoosh and beeping of the elevator stretched out.
“Jarvis, what other reckless things has he done?”
“Recently, Captain?”
“What do you- yes.”
“Alphabetically or chronologically?”
“He’s making it sound worse than it really is,” Tony spoke into the wall.
“You need to take care of yourself.”
“The days are too short, it’s not my fault.”
They reached his floor, not like he’d been counting the beeps through the loud silence, and had just turned to walk out when a hand caught his shoulder, turning him towards Steve.
Steve opened his mouth, moving his jaw, eyes fixed somewhere behind Tony.
“Cap?”
He closed his mouth, shaking his head, stepping back, and Tony’s hand darted forward to grab him, landing to grab a fistful of his shirt. Steve’s eyes widened a bit and he opened his mouth again.
“What do you need to say, I really hate poignant silences.” Tony tried to tone his voice for snark, but it came out concerned, and yes, a bit whiny.
Steve’s voice was barely a whisper as he fixed his eyes back on that spot. “I’d take care of you.”
Tony’s hand dropped from his shirt in shock, the silence spinning again. Steve was already stepping back, face red, Tony frozen to the doorway of the lift.
“Steve?”
“I’m tired, you’re tired, we’re not in our right minds-” He crossed his arms, resolutely not looking at Tony.
“Don’t feed me that bullshit, the serum lets you get by with less sleep.”
“I haven’t slept in a while, I fell asleep in your noisy as fuck workshop.”
“Nobody dragged you in there, you could’ve left-”
He never did though, a predictable presence whenever Tony was in there.
“Someone has to make sure you don’t accidently kill yourself by falling asleep with a power tool in your hand.”
“Dum-E and Jarvis are there, you’re unnecessary for that.”
“You’re-”
Steve cut off as Tony crossed the small distance between them, grabbing Steve’s shirt again as he mashed their faces together before even knowing what he was doing. His mind catching up, Tony’s mind started panicking, and he went to move back, to escape-
Those goddamn strong arms wrapped around his waist, Steve softening the kiss as he returned it.
Tony’s mind went offline, because Holy SHIT -
He moaned into Steve’s mouth as he deepened the kiss again. “Bed?”
“Sleep.” Steve pulled back to give him a tired look.
“Bed.”
Steve answered by hauling Tony up, pressing his back to the wall of the lift.
“Seriously, bed, please, I’m old and my body hurts.”
He laughed again, this time against Tony’s neck, the sound rushing through his body and filling the elevator.
“You’re making it really- uhhnnn- hard to talk, but god, your laugh-”
“Then stop trying and let me take care of you.”
“You making a move?”
“You stink and need a shower.”
“Steve-”
“Shush.”