Chapter Text
It wasn’t a gentle catch.
Tony just barely got ahold of him, both hands digging into his forearm, and although Tony tried to swoop with Steve’s momentum, the catch was far from smooth. Steve’s shoulder jarred so fiercely he could hear it groan. He gritted his teeth against the fiery ache in his shoulder socket even as he strained the muscle to leverage himself closer to Tony.
“You know I have a heart condition,” Tony said, his voice clear over the comms.
Steve grinned a little. “Thanks for the catch.”
Tony got a hand around his waist and hauled him in closer, so Steve could grip onto the armor with one arm. “A little warning would have been nice. Just a thought.”
Tony flew them upwards, spiraling above the flaming building that Steve had taken a running leap out of.
“Technically I think I warned you about a seventh of a second before I jumped.” Steve said. “How far out is Damage Control?”
“Twenty minutes, and just for that, you’re not getting laid tonight.”
“Darn,” Steve said placidly. He let his head thump against the helmet of the armor.
“You do not sound nearly disappointed enough about that,” Tony said.
“Well, you don’t believe in kicking me out of bed. So I still get to sleep next to you. That’s what I really want just now.”
Tony was silent for a few seconds. He cleared his throat. “How’s your shoulder?” he asked.
Steve tested it, working his jarred shoulder gingerly. “Feels like a sprain,” he grimaced. “Not too bad though.”
“Still, we’d better get that checked out,” Tony said, and changed course for the Tower. “It might need a sling. Hold on, I’m gonna radio the others. We can put our reports in later.”
In the meantime, Steve closed his eyes and enjoyed the flight.
When they touched down on the landing pad, one of the physicians Tony kept on call for the Avengers was waiting. She pulled out a clipboard while Tony stepped out of the suit.
“It’s your right shoulder, correct?” she asked. Steve nodded. “Mr. Stark, please help him remove the upper part of his costume. I need to have a look.”
Tony stepped closer and didn’t even joke about stripping Steve, gingerly maneuvering the fabric around his shoulder and over his head.
“That’s a sprain, yeah,” the doctor said, peering at it. “Captain, would you rotate your shoulder please?”
She had him work through a few more motions, and asked him about the pain level each time, occasionally pressing gently on the swelling area.
On his left, Tony could not have appeared less interested. He was tapping away on his phone with a distant little frown, not sparing a glance for either Steve or the doctor.
But his right hand was linked with Steve’s, their fingers intertwined and resting on Steve’s thigh. Tony's thumb stroked quietly against his skin, a small, unconscious sort of movement.
Steve smiled.
“Alright, looks like you’ve got a class one acromioclavicular ligament sprain,” the doctor said. “I know you heal faster than most, but the usual standards apply. Sling, ice, ibuprofen, and plenty of rest.”
“Yes ma’am,” Steve said. Tony rolled his eyes.
“I’ll make sure he rests, Doctor,” Tony assured. Steve snorted.
If the doctor seemed at all skeptical, she didn’t show it. She gathered her supplies and left in the elevator, nodding as the doors closed.
“You know the only way you’re getting me to rest is if you do, too,” Steve said, leaning against the kitchen counter.
Tony pulled an ice pack out of the freezer, wrapping it in a dish towel. “I know,” he said, unconcerned. “I rescheduled a few things. We’re taking it easy for the next week.”
Tony settled the ice pack on Steve’s swollen shoulder. Steve hissed a little at the feeling, at the bite of cold numbing the pain.
Tony took his hand again and squeezed it in both of his. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know how to catch people without hurting them, I was just sloppy. I’ll do better.”
Steve sighed, affection swelling like a warm tide in his chest. Tony would do better, too. He’d probably spend half of their “easy” week working on some new way to automate the suit so that messy saves like that would go as smoothly as possible.
Some gentle sarcasm was in order.
“Yeah, you’d better,” Steve said, smiling. “Gosh, Tony, I really thought with a whole seventh of a second in warning you’d be perfectly prepared and positioned to save my life without jarring my shoulder.”
Tony huffed, eyes creasing with laughter. His head dropped to rest against Steve’s, his shoulders loosening. Steve leaned into the contact, and Tony’s hand stroked down the back of his neck, tender and warm. Between them, Tony’s hand tightened on his.
“Thank you for saving me,” Steve whispered.
Tony sighed. “Heart. Condition.”