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Stephen had a tendency to be a little self-destructive. He seemed almost creative in his ways of harming and endangering his own body – it was almost ridiculous that he was still alive. Almost. That was, of course, one of the many other bad tendencies he inhabited. This one in particular, though, was probably the worst. Which was why Tony wasn't even half surprised that he'd end up in the sanctum kitchen after a particularly nasty battle Stephen had, patching up the sorcerer's wound as the man sat on the edge of a table. A med kit and various things littered the surface, his blue robes neatly folded on a chair, and the cloak hovered about around the air in exasperation as if it was worried for its owner.
Tony winced, staring at the gashing wound that started from his shoulder and went all the way through his chest and ended just shy of his abdomen.
"That's…" he said, "I think that's gonna scar."
Stephen's face was blank, emotionless, and his eyes seemed empty as it stared at the floorboards. Tony looked at him, almost sadly, partly impressed at how Stephen didn't even so much as hiss as he set to work, cleaning the wound quickly and with precision, experienced hands patching up the rather deep cut.
"Does it hurt?" It came out as a whisper, unintentionally, almost as if he was afraid that raising his voice would cause the man further pain.
Stephen shook his head.
"Nothing I'm not used to," Stephen said, voice a deep rumble, indicating his tiredness, before he added what was probably meant to be a reassuring statement. "Don't worry. I'm fine."
Tony felt his throat constrict at Stephen's response. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face exasperatedly and kneading his eyebrows.
"You're clearly not, Stephen. Just–" he gestured at Stephen's battered, wounded, bandaged-wrapped body, "Look at you! Look at yourself!"
Tony held out his fingers as he said his next words, "You always come out of the battle being the most injured, you always somehow forget to eat properly, you barely rest, and even if you do, it's probably because you collapsed out of exhaustion!" Tony didn't mean to raise his voice, but God help him. He was distraught. "Why can't you just ever take a break?"
Stephen stared at him for a moment, a look flashing in his eyes that disappeared the same second it appeared, and then looked down.
"I'm sorry."
Tony frowned, another exasperated sound escaping his lips.
"It was necessary this time. It really was."
Tony could sympathise. Lord knows he has his own fair share of destructive tendencies, but still. Knowing that fact doesn't help the worry to stop growing in his chest at seeing Stephen like this.
"I'm a doctor, Tony. I know my limit."
Tony huffed.
"No you fucking don't."
Stephen's limit was probably literal destruction that could possibly lead to death. Doctors really were the worst patients.
"Then what am I supposed to do? I can't– I needed to do it, Tony. Believe me. It could've been worse."
Tony's eyes stared into Stephen's, trying to hold back the words at the tip of his tongue as he looked at the sheer vulnerability and desperation in Stephen's face.
"I–" Tony clenched his eyes shut and dropped his head down for a moment, and then muttered, "I'm sorry, Steph. You're hurt, you're tired, and you really look like you need sleep. I shouldn't have gotten mad."
Stephen just sat there for a moment as the seconds ticked by. And then trembling hands reached out to Tony's calloused ones, reassuring and gentle. Tony's lip twitched up a bit at that, a hesitant smile forming.
He leaned forward to wrap his hands over the sorcerer's (worryingly thin) waist, rubbing his hand over the small of his back.
"I love you, you know that? I care about you. Worry about you. Every second, every day," he felt Stephen rest his chin over the engineer's shoulder, "The world needs you alive, Stephen. They need you. I need you. So please," Tony pulled back, hands holding Stephen's shoulder firmly, "Please. Stay alive. At least for me."
Stephen looked at him.
"I love you, too." he whispered, and though the words seemed almost quiet, it was more than enough to convey his emotions. "But no promises."
Tony couldn't help but let out a half amused and half exasperated huff at that.
Stephen had a tendency to be a little self-destructive. He just couldn't seem to help it. Putting himself in the front line wasn't an easy job, and a tendency like that was bound to grow in him in such a line of work, especially with actual lives at risk. But Tony would always be there for him along the way to patch up his wounds, and that assurance itself made the battles worth fighting.