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“Hey, what’re you still doing up?”
You started slightly from where you were curled up on the couch, a crochet blanket thrown over your lap and a book in your hands. You were a little surprised to see Tony leaning against the doorway; you’d been under the impression that everyone else had long fallen asleep. The discussion you’d all had in the kitchen with Fury had ended hours ago, and you hadn’t heard anyone moving around the house in a while either. You’d assumed they’d all gone to bed, but apparently the billionaire could rival Natasha and Clint when it came to sneaking around the place.
Tony had his hands in his pockets, but while his expression was a sadly familiar mix of teasing and tired, there was a hint of concern there too. “Didn’t Barton tuck you in with the other kids?”
You smirked up at him wryly, tucking your hair behind your ear. Age jokes were old hat between the two of you; even though you were in your mid-twenties, you were still the youngest Avenger by ten years or so. “He would have lost a hand if he tried.”
His expression softened into a smile. “That’s my girl.”
“What about you, did they forget to give you a bed?”
“Not at all. I was supposed to have the couch.” he told you pointedly, nodding to where you were sitting. When you made move to stand, he shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. He moved further into the room, eyes studying the Barton’s living room in that way you’d noticed him do before. His body language was causal, but his eyes studied everything, no doubt filing away mental notes for the future. In the low, yellow glow of the lamp beside you, the bags under his eyes were darker, almost bruise-like against his skin. “It’s fine. I don’t sleep much these days, anyway.”
You straightened slightly from where you were leaning on the arm of the couch. “Why? You still trying to wrap your head around the tiny agents?”
“They just don’t make any sense,” he replied, and you breathed a quiet laugh. He paused in front of the fire, taking a moment to stoke it. “This wood? All me, by the way. Don’t let Cap tell you otherwise.”
You grinned, shaking your head in amusement. “Oh, I know. I watched. Very manly.”
He tossed another log on the fire before turning and smiling roguishly at you, humor in his eyes. “Oh, really?”
“Can you blame me?” you teased, leaning back and fanning your face with your hand dramatically. “All that sweat and muscle? I was damn near swooning.”
Tony smirked; an eyebrow raised at your performance. “Careful there, Y/N. I might consider that harassment.”
“Is it harassment if you enjoy it, Tony?”
He snickered. “Fair point.”
“So, are you going to join me or are you just going to keep standing there, hogging the fire?”
The mischief in his eyes brightened, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Can we share the blanket?”
You let your surprise at the request melt into a soft smile, scooting back and pulling the blanket back for him. If Tony noticed your pause, he didn’t show it. He sat beside you, sinking back against the couch cushions with a deep, contented sigh. His thigh brushed against your knees, and his eyes closed for a moment. You almost felt like you were imposing, seeing him tired and subdued like this; this wasn’t the snarky attitude you were used to. This was, quieter… more intimate, seeing him like this. You dropped the blanket over his lap, and he gave you a small smile, opening his eyes slowly.
“So,” Tony said after a while, reaching over and taking the paperback out of your hand. His finger brushed over yours, and where they did, your skin warmed, tingled. You watched the way his palm smoothed over the cover; everything seemed slower, more significant, in the muted light. “You’re reading The Positronic Man? Did you have this on the jet?”
You shook your head. “Laura actually has a pretty impressive little collection in the spare room. It seemed… relevant. And I always loved the Robin Williams movie.”
“Can’t say I’ve seen it.”
“How dare you.”
Tony chuckled quietly, his voice tired and almost intimate. He handed the book back, and you took it from him, holding it in your lap. “My mistake.?”
“One that we will be rectifying, Mr. Stark.” you informed him teasingly. You straightened, groaning as you stretched out the ache in your shoulder until you felt it pop slightly. The pain lessened as you did, and you exhaled slowly. Tony watched you as you did, his expression pensive and brow furrowed. You settled back against the cushions again, your other shoulder bumping against his. “The minute we get back to the Tower I’m sitting you down to watch it. I promise, you’ll be bawling your eyes out by the closing credits.”
“It’s a—” Tony paused. “I look forward to it.”
“So…” you held up the book. “I don’t suppose you and Bruce programmed Ultron to follow those pesky laws Asimov came up with, did you?”
“Not strictly,” he sighed, running a hand over his eyes. “Some facsimile would be mixed in among the millions of codes, but nothing so concrete…”
“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” you said lightly, thumbing the pages of the book thoughtfully. “It never really seems to work out in like, every science fiction movie ever. The big bad always finds a way around it.”
“And which one of us is the big bad in this situation? Me? Or Junior?”
You looked up, startled. “Tony, that’s not—”
“It’s okay, Y/N.” he shrugged it off, surprising you again by covering your hand in his. Tony’s fingers curled around yours for a moment, almost subconsciously. The touch was brief – a second – but when he moved to pull his hand away, you moved your hand with his, and he stopped, surprised. You placed the book on the empty space next to you, shifting in your seat to face him.
“No, it’s not okay. That’s not what I meant at all.” You turned your hand under his hesitantly, taking hold of it and squeezing, almost experimentally. “You made a mistake, Tone. That doesn’t make you a villain.”
Tony gave you a small, wan smile, pulling your hand carefully into his lap. The back of your hand rested on his thigh, and you ducked your head as you felt your cheeks warm. You were being ridiculous, reacting that way, but in the muted lighting and quiet room, you couldn’t help it.
The feeling broke when the pain spike in your shoulder, a sharp ache that made you grimace.
“You going to tell me why you’re still awake down here?”
You shrugged with your good shoulder. “I don’t sleep well in strange places. Figured I’d let Natasha have the room to herself. After what happened—”
“What did you see?” he asked. “Are you—?”
You shook your head, eyes on your intertwined hands. “I didn’t. I was out for the count before she started pulling her Voodoo Child schtick.”
“You were?”
“Her brother knocked me into a wall.” you explained, brushing your hair away from the side of your face with your free hand. There was a patch of gauze taped over a cut a couple of inches long near your temple. “Where’d you think I got this little fashion statement from?”
Tony raised his hand for a moment, as if he was going to touch your cheek, but thought better of it. “Is that what happened to your shoulder?”
You nodded, pulling your hand away from his to reach back and touch your shoulder carefully. “I hit a pipe on the way down. It’s just a little tender is all.”
Tony’s brow creased in concern. “Did you have someone look at it?”
“Didn’t really have the chance. Clint was busy looking after Nat and getting us here, and you were all dealing with… whatever you had to deal with, so I didn’t want to—”
“Turn around.”
“—bother… anyone. What?”
Tony hummed a quiet laugh, his eyes lighting with a kind of affectionate amusement. It was a nice change from the somber look his face had held a few moments before, and you felt yourself warm pleasantly under his gaze. “Let me look.”
“I… okay…?” you agreed awkwardly, a little confused by his sudden concern. You turned in your seat to face away from him, focusing your gaze on nothing in particular. There was a long, almost weighted pause, and you could almost feel Tony’s breathing in time with yours. He touched hesitant fingers to the small of your back, and you felt nerves in your belly swirl at the feeling. His fingers slid down to take hold of the hem of your shirt, and you fought back a shiver as he lifted it, the soft cotton tickling your back.
“Don’t tense,” Tony murmured as his other hand smoothed over the skin of your waist soothingly. It sent tiny firecrackers flying under your skin, and you shuddered despite yourself. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
You turned your head to meet his gaze, smiling softly. “I know.”
He returned the smile with one of his own, his expression softening further, and you found your eye drawn to his lips as he dropped his gaze to your back again. Shadows from the fire danced over his face, highlighting his features. You blinked, surprised at yourself, before turning your head to face forward again as Tony lifted your shirt higher.
“Jesus, Y/N…” he murmured, his touch moving tentatively to your shoulder. You flinched under it, and he withdrew his hand. “This is a huge bruise.”
“It actually bruised?”
“Yeah… black and purple, the whole nine yards.” Tony touched his fingertips to the edge of the bruise, circling the injury with a delicate hand. “Have you iced this?”
“I did on the quinjet,” you replied. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”
You flinched under his hand as he touched a more tender spot, and he jerked his hand back, letting it fall to rest on the middle of your back.
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” you assured him softly, eyes closing as his hand gently returned to mapping out the edges of your injury. “…Your hands are softer than I thought they’d be.”
You bit your lip when you realized you’d spoken aloud, and you could hear the smirk in his voice as he replied. “Yeah? Think about my hands often?”
He laughed, a little too loud in the muted light, when you elbowed him in the ribs. “I meant for someone who spends a lot of their free time building high-tech suits of armor.”
“Sure, you did.” he teased lightly.
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.”
You shook your head in amusement. “Of course, it is.”
“I’d have this checked out, by the way.” Tony told you, bringing you attention back to your shoulder. His hand slipped down to rest on your ribs, fingers curling along the underside of your bra. You exhaled slowly into his touch; his thumb rubbed slow, reassuring circles into your back. “Maybe you should come with me to Oslo. Get checked out by an actual doctor.”
“You mean there’s something you can’t do?”
“I’m serious.”
You sighed, shaking your head. “I think they need me with Steve tomorrow. Besides, how exactly would I get there? You going to carry me?”
“I have other suits. I could have one here before morning.”
You looked back over your shoulder at him, meeting his eye once more. In the firelight, they were darker, but still so expressive. You cleared your throat. “As much as I’d love to try out some of your armor – and believe me, it’s a lot – it’s not exactly a practical choice.”
“Then go back to New York with Banner while he waits for the cradle. You can get checked out before we all get back.”
“I’ve got a job to do, Tony.”
He raised an eyebrow at you. “How much help are you going to be if you can’t raise your arm?”
“I have another one.”
“Y/N.”
You sighed, biting the inside of your lip. You let your gaze fall to your lap, fingers curling anxiously in the blanket. “We’re on a team with super-soldier, two world-class spies, an actual god, and the Hulk. I can’t take a time out for a bruise.”
“Y/N…”
You shrugged off his hand, gritting your teeth against the pain that spiked with the movement. You tugged your shirt back down into place. “It’s fine, Tony. I’m fine.”
“Hey,” Tony reached past you to catch hold of your wrist, turning you back around to face him again. “Promise me you’ll get it checked out.”
You froze for a moment under the weight of the concern in his gaze, wetting your lips with your tongue before speaking. “Tony, I’m—”
“At least get Clint to look at it.” Tony said, brown eyes on yours. You felt warmth rise in your neck again, and you ducked your head. ‘He’s got some training thanks to SHIELD; maybe he can at least tell you if you need a doctor to treat it.”
“I don’t—”
Tony’s hand slipped down from your wrist to take hold of your own hand, his fingers gentle as they entangled with yours. “You’re not going to be any help to anyone if that injury ends up getting you killed.”
“I’m not going to get—”
“Y/N.”
You paused, pressing your lips together. You weren’t used to this kind of concern or attention, especially not from Tony Stark. He was always aloof, sarcastic and ready with a joke… this was different. He was earnest, anxious on your behalf. You squeezed his hand back hesitantly, testing the weight of it. “Okay. Okay, I’ll have Clint take a look.”
Tony broke into a warm smile, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Good. Wait here.”
He released your hand as he stood and left the room, leaving you alone on the couch. You heard him opening and closing cabinets in the kitchen, and the tap run. He returned a few minutes later, a glass of water in one hand and a hot water bottle wrapped in a towel tucked under his arm. He held the water out to you. “Here.”
You took it from him, a crease between your brows. “Thanks?”
He held out his other hand, dropping a couple of pills into your palm. “Pain killers. Bottom’s up.”
You gave him a puzzled smile, swallowing them with a mouthful of water as he sat down beside you again. You leaned forward to place the glass on the coffee table in front of you as he sat down, starting slightly as a sudden warmth pressed against your back. You sighed, your body softening into the sensation as Tony held the hot water bottle against your shoulder, and he breathed a quiet laugh as you did. You settled back again, trapping the bottle between your back and the cushion. You could feel the pain in your shoulder easing already, and you closed your eyes contentedly.
“Thank you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in a small, brief smile. “Any time.”
There was a long pause before you spoke again, your hands twisting in the blanket’s edge again. “Did… did you want to get some sleep? I can go. Nat’s probably asleep by now.”
Tony shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back against the couch cushions once more. He released your hand, laying his arm out along the back of it, almost around your shoulders. “I’m not going to sleep any time soon. You can stay out here, if you want. Read your book. I wouldn’t hate the company.”
“High praise,” you teased sarcastically, and Tony chuckled lightly. “But what are you going to do while I read?”
He smirked after a moment, holding out his hand. “Give me the book.” You raised an eyebrow but handed it over all the same. “Where were you up to?”
“Uh… chapter eight, I think.”
“Right. Get comfy. You might get some sleep out of this, after all.” he said, and you chuckled. When you didn’t move, he gave you a sidelong look, eyebrow cocked. “C’mon, sweetheart. I said comfy. I don’t bite.”
Smiling, almost embarrassed, you did as he instructed. You drew your legs back up onto the couch, your knees coming up to rest against his thigh. You pulled the blanket back over the both of you, and after a moment you rested your cheek on his chest hesitantly. You felt his steady breathing falter for a second before he relaxed again, and you peeked up at him to see a soft, affectionate smile settle on his face. He shifted the arm behind you down to wrap around you, holding the bottle more firmly against your shoulder with his forearm. His fingertips traced idly up and down along your bicep, and you settled more comfortably into the relaxed embrace.
Your own hands dithered for a moment, unsure where to settle, and Tony took hold of the one closest to him. He held it in his lap, the book held open beside it. Your other hand joined it slowly, curling around his, holding his hand between both of yours. When you dared another glance up for his reaction, he caught your eye and winked at you, his gaze warm.
“Don’t be afraid to drool if you fall asleep, by the way. The shirt’s Clint’s.”
You giggled, your eyes closing. You weren’t going to question this closeness, not now. That was what daylight was for. Now, you just wanted to enjoy the feeling of his body against yours, the strength of his arm around you, the still surprising softness of his hand in yours.
“Ready?”
“Go ahead, Tony.”
“It troubled Andrew greatly that the process of seeking his freedom might cause further distress for Sir. Sir was very fragile no – there was no disguising that, no avoiding the reality of it – and anything that might be a drain on his flagging energies, anything that might upset or disturb or in any way trouble him, might all too readily endanger his life…”