Yeah, he deserves that. "More like to compensate for my shield when I leave it at home 'cause I'm going on a date." Usually Steve prefers to be lower-tech, but that doesn't mean he's opposed to a gadget or two.
"You have nothing to compensate for," Tony says. His smirk implies all the inneundo it needs to. (But he's already mapping out ideas. Energy shield? Plasma does diddly squat for blocking physical projectiles, more an offensive tool, but not much actual heft can fit into a watch. Worth looking into.) After the disinfectant finishes sizzling, he tosses the cloth aside.
Steve rolls his eyes at the innuendo, though it's not like he wasn't asking for it. "Ha, ha," he deadpans. "You know what I mean." Presumably the vibranium would be able to stand up to a crowbar imbued with Asgardian magic, since Thor's shield hadn't dented it. "I'll just fight 'em with my dick next time, then."
Tony continues the joke unashamedly—"Fight 'em with your dick and make 'em submit. When they surrender you can say, 'You have the right to remain gagged'"—and stands to wrap Steve's head in gauze now that he's emptied his plate.
"You're the worst," Steve groans. "For the record, if I ever fight those guys again, it's not gonna be with my dick, because it'll get ripped off or beaten to a pulp, and I think you'd regret either of those outcomes. I know I would."
When Tony's done wrapping his head - although Steve's not sure it even needs it - Steve glances at him. "You got a decent-sized tub in this place? I need to get clean, and I'd like to be able to soak for a bit." Heat might be the only thing that can leach some of the soreness from his back, at this point. If not, getting clean will still feel damn good.
"Yeah, I can smell why," Tony says bluntly. After peering down and sighing, he reaches to help Steve up. "Master bathroom has the biggest. I'll help you. No sense in causing yourself or me more grief."
Yes, thank you, Tony, he knows he smells like a guy who ran a few miles, marinated in his own sweat, and then beat up some bad guys, there's no need to point that out. "Thanks," he says simply, instead of offering up anything more sarcastic, and lets Tony help him up. "The last thing I need is to try and cram myself into a smaller tub. Might cause the tub some harm, too."
"Bed rest after this," Tony demands, straight to Steve's face, like Steve just said nothing. Beyond the exasperation and jabs about Steve's recklessness and idiocy, Tony worries.
"I'll be fine, Tony," Steve huffs. A few fractures are, to him, nothing to worry about; the serum will have him healed up in no time at all. He's not protesting the bed rest right now, but if Tony tries to keep him in bed for more than a few days, he'll take matters into his own hands.
Truth be told, there's something heartwarming about Tony's concern, about the way he frets over him like a mother hen. If the tables were turned, Steve knows he'd be exactly the same way - though Tony is a lot more fragile than he is. Steve can't help smiling for a moment, though he does it when he thinks Tony isn't looking.
Tony drowns out Steve's insistence by talking over him: "Rest of the day! No exceptions!" He knows Steve's healing factor; he won't force him down for longer than that. But Steve has already pushed himself past the point of injury when not in a life-or-death situation. (See exhibit A: last night.) If there's no further protest, Tony slots himself under Steve's arm to again play the crutch. "Can't believe I'm turning out to be the responsible one," he grumbles.
"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get your turn to be irresponsible soon enough," Steve retorts cheerfully. He doesn't protest when Tony offers his support, just leans some of his weight onto him as they head for the master bedroom. He probably needs something to keep his back stable more than he needs a crutch, but he won't spurn the help, either.
Steve receives another exasperated glare on their trek to the master bathroom. Tony has half of mind to be the most responsible man on the planet to be contrary and rub it in Steve's face, but truth is he's already trying to be better. More careful and considerate of his actions and how they affect the world. He messed up with Ultron like he messed up with his weapons, so he needs to be better. Again. Still. This time, hopefully, in the right way.
By the time he's scrubbing shampoo into Steve's hair, Tony has loosened up. He talks more easily, more smoothly. It's familiar, this. He doesn't love Steve, not yet, but Steve has become his motivation. Steve has given Tony back what he lost after Ultron and Pepper: a future he can see.
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When Tony's done wrapping his head - although Steve's not sure it even needs it - Steve glances at him. "You got a decent-sized tub in this place? I need to get clean, and I'd like to be able to soak for a bit." Heat might be the only thing that can leach some of the soreness from his back, at this point. If not, getting clean will still feel damn good.
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Truth be told, there's something heartwarming about Tony's concern, about the way he frets over him like a mother hen. If the tables were turned, Steve knows he'd be exactly the same way - though Tony is a lot more fragile than he is. Steve can't help smiling for a moment, though he does it when he thinks Tony isn't looking.
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By the time he's scrubbing shampoo into Steve's hair, Tony has loosened up. He talks more easily, more smoothly. It's familiar, this. He doesn't love Steve, not yet, but Steve has become his motivation. Steve has given Tony back what he lost after Ultron and Pepper: a future he can see.