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"For fuck's sake, I already told you: I did not intend that to happen!" Tony said while pacing around the workshop. Everything about him screamed that he was trying to escape the argument.
Steve on the other hand was determined, not to let that happen and so far he had not been thrown out of the techno-sanctuary, so he stuck to it. "And I don't doubt that, but you are still responsible for what you started, even if something goes wrong", he said. It had gotten out louder than he had planned.
At his workbench Tony was fiddling with some pieces of wire, trying to measure the right amounts he needed on the circuit board. His hands were shaking and he threw away the third miscut piece, when the other man stepped up to him, still miles from leaving the matter at that.
"I know that you think everyone can sort stuff like that out on their own, but some people can't, Tony. Speak to her." Steve was now standing merely a step behind him.
"And what do you think I should say? I told her that it was not on purpose", he bailed out and turned around to face the blond, who lifted his hand to rub small circles on his forehead. Then he slowly slid his hand down his face and made a vague, waving gesture,
"Yes, you did. When she was in a state of shock from almost getting killed. Of course it was by accident, but people in such situations don't work with reason."
"And what should I do now?", Tony almost shouted. "Do you really think it does any good if I say it again? She knows that it was not my intention. She'll hardly think I wanted to kill her. It was a fucking accident and we all know that."
Steve grunted in desperation, clenched his left hand in a fist and blurted out: "Christ on a cracker, can't you just tell her that you are sorry?"
Tony flinched, turned his head sideways and lifted his hand. It only took a moment before he was back in his previous posture. Steve looked around bewildered and became aware of his right hand. He had stretched his arm out to the side and his open palm was facing forward. He looked back and forth between his hand and his conversation partner, before he softly spoke: "Tony? Did you just...?"
"I did nothing. What was it now? Yes, sure, I'll just go and say sorry." The words almost stumbled over each other with the speed at which they came.
Steve lowered his arm and hesitated just for a blink before covering the last step between them and pulling Tony into a tight hug. He felt the man freezing in his arms. He continued in the most even and neutral tone: "Right now, I am sorry. I should watch my body language."
"What are you talking about?", Tony stammered, "Nothing happened, what are you doing?"
Steve burried the head he was holding in the pit of his shoulder and went on speaking calmly into the tossled hair. "It's about Howard, isn't it? He did that to you. I didn't mean it. It was a stupid gesture. I'd never hit you. Never. There's not a thing in the world you could do that would make me want to hurt you."
Only now Tony seemed to become aware of the breath he had held in. It came out rattled and heavy, but with it his muscles uncramped, one by one. Slowly he went from being stiff as a board back to normal. He felt it all the more since Steve held him tight and the arms embracing him sank in deeper.
Two flat breaths later he discoevered that his deeper muscles were still hard knots and he even had forgotten to go on talking. The silence was threatening, filled with things deeply burried. Things he didn't want to think about. He sagged into the hug, let himself be caught and clung to words to fill the space inside his head: "What did I do? Look, I just..." He was cut off by a string of soothingly mumbled words.
"I don't understand anything if you talk into my shoulder like that, but it's ok. We can talk later. For now just stay there as long as you like."
It almost felt like the neck of Steve's shirt was becoming wet. But that didn't really matter right now. All that mattered was within his arms.