Okay. Guess they'll put a pin in the name topic. "Hey, no sweat. We'll figure something out. Sometimes it takes time to find the name that feels like it--" Tony circles a hand over his whole person, stalling to find the right words. "Covers all the bases," is what he settles on, and, yeah, basically.
(If anyone would know, it's Tony. He hadn't always been Anthony Edward Stark, after all. Now that Tony thinks about it, he and Soldier might have more in common than anticipated. At least in the figuring out who you really are, muddled by a lifetime of people telling you who you should be, area, anyway.)
Abundance of choice could be (and in Soldier's case, it definitely seemed like it was) overwhelming. Probably double the overwhelm when all you've known was a life where that wasn't an option. Baby steps. Tony has FRIDAY order Chinese (Tony Stark's billionaire priorities: knowing places that served takeout, let alone were open, at ridiculous hours of the morning), and he gets a little bit of everything, along with his usual. Soldier could try things and see what he liked.
Another silence fell, still awkward (but maybe less so?). Tony honestly thought that was it, started half checking out as he focused back in on work, but then--
Take off your pants. Or I'll cut them off.
The long day has worn down his defenses. Like an icy grip on his brain stem, Tony's suddenly stuck, and he only has one way to go: backwards. He's heard those words before (or some variation of) many times before, and it's like he's there all over again. Coherent thought slips through Tony's fingers like sand in an hourglass. If he could, he'd flinch at the way Soldier is advancing on him, like he's not going to take no for an answer.
They never take no for an answer--
But then Soldier is kneeling at Tony's feet, and for all his blankness, he looks oddly soft. Or maybe Tony's just projecting again. Whatever. It's such a deviation from the script of Tony's past experiences that it snaps him out of it, like a bucket of cold water was dumped on his head. The breath he sucks in is shaky, but at least he isn't hyperventilating or anything.
His leg. Right. Okay. Tony can do that.
"Um, yeah-- yeah, I guess. If you, uh, insist."
It isn't until his stiff fingers have started to undo his belt in a daze that another pretty crucial thing comes to Tony. This one is still nerve wracking, but at least not PTSD inducing.
By nature of being as famous as Tony is, he hasn't had to come out since he first did so. It's at least one thing he appreciates about being in the spotlight. Bigots will be bigots and people will be rude or well meaning but inappropriate, but every transgender person has to go through that. Any cons are far outweighed by the positives, in his case. It's relieving and refreshing when everyone is on the same page.
But Soldier... probably isn't on the same page. In and out of ice for seventy years doesn't leave a lot of time to, well, be with the times. Plus, Tony finds it hard to believe the group of uber fascists would be eagerly introducing their asset to the idea of queer people. If they did at all, it definitely wasn't positive. And who knows how much information Soldier has to work on, prior to all that! Not that Tony cares what other people think, but he'd really like to not go through another near death experience today, thanks.
(No wonder Soldier didn't recognize him. Tony hadn't started to transition properly until after his parents died. If Hydra had given him information on the Stark's next of kin, it would've been about a daughter, not a son.)
This probably wouldn't even be an issue if he hadn't taken out his packer, but, like, sue him, okay? He wasn't exactly expecting to do anything but hide away in the workshop, and he definitely wasn't expecting to take his pants off in front of someone else and have said person get in direct sight line with his crotch.
Tony wasn't going to say a damn thing, and, who knows-- maybe Soldier would be too occupied with Tony's shitty first aid to notice. (Yeah, asking a sniper not to notice something? Pigs are more likely to fly. Hell, it's not like a layer of denim does much for him-- maybe Soldier already noticed.) Tony didn't even think about it (clearly) before now, but showing off the arc reactor also meant showing Soldier his top scars.
Well, whatever. It would come out eventually. Especially with all the time they were theoretically going to be spending together.
Pop the button, undo the fly, remember he probably has to take his sneakers off first, then shimmy the denim down his legs. The only thing more mortifying would be wearing boxers with Iron Man on them, so thankfully Tony isn't. Not today, at least.
"There's a joke in here somewhere about taking me out to dinner first," he mumbles, more to himself than his audience. Tony suppresses a wince when he has to open his knees to give Soldier more leverage. His only saving grace is that Soldier definitely isn't the nosy type, nor the type to ask questions. Maybe they could ignore the, like, twenty seven different elephants in the room with their combined ability of avoidance.
no subject
(If anyone would know, it's Tony. He hadn't always been Anthony Edward Stark, after all. Now that Tony thinks about it, he and Soldier might have more in common than anticipated. At least in the figuring out who you really are, muddled by a lifetime of people telling you who you should be, area, anyway.)
Abundance of choice could be (and in Soldier's case, it definitely seemed like it was) overwhelming. Probably double the overwhelm when all you've known was a life where that wasn't an option. Baby steps. Tony has FRIDAY order Chinese (Tony Stark's billionaire priorities: knowing places that served takeout, let alone were open, at ridiculous hours of the morning), and he gets a little bit of everything, along with his usual. Soldier could try things and see what he liked.
Another silence fell, still awkward (but maybe less so?). Tony honestly thought that was it, started half checking out as he focused back in on work, but then--
Take off your pants. Or I'll cut them off.
The long day has worn down his defenses. Like an icy grip on his brain stem, Tony's suddenly stuck, and he only has one way to go: backwards. He's heard those words before (or some variation of) many times before, and it's like he's there all over again. Coherent thought slips through Tony's fingers like sand in an hourglass. If he could, he'd flinch at the way Soldier is advancing on him, like he's not going to take no for an answer.
They never take no for an answer--
But then Soldier is kneeling at Tony's feet, and for all his blankness, he looks oddly soft. Or maybe Tony's just projecting again. Whatever. It's such a deviation from the script of Tony's past experiences that it snaps him out of it, like a bucket of cold water was dumped on his head. The breath he sucks in is shaky, but at least he isn't hyperventilating or anything.
His leg. Right. Okay. Tony can do that.
"Um, yeah-- yeah, I guess. If you, uh, insist."
It isn't until his stiff fingers have started to undo his belt in a daze that another pretty crucial thing comes to Tony. This one is still nerve wracking, but at least not PTSD inducing.
By nature of being as famous as Tony is, he hasn't had to come out since he first did so. It's at least one thing he appreciates about being in the spotlight. Bigots will be bigots and people will be rude or well meaning but inappropriate, but every transgender person has to go through that. Any cons are far outweighed by the positives, in his case. It's relieving and refreshing when everyone is on the same page.
But Soldier... probably isn't on the same page. In and out of ice for seventy years doesn't leave a lot of time to, well, be with the times. Plus, Tony finds it hard to believe the group of uber fascists would be eagerly introducing their asset to the idea of queer people. If they did at all, it definitely wasn't positive. And who knows how much information Soldier has to work on, prior to all that! Not that Tony cares what other people think, but he'd really like to not go through another near death experience today, thanks.
(No wonder Soldier didn't recognize him. Tony hadn't started to transition properly until after his parents died. If Hydra had given him information on the Stark's next of kin, it would've been about a daughter, not a son.)
This probably wouldn't even be an issue if he hadn't taken out his packer, but, like, sue him, okay? He wasn't exactly expecting to do anything but hide away in the workshop, and he definitely wasn't expecting to take his pants off in front of someone else and have said person get in direct sight line with his crotch.
Tony wasn't going to say a damn thing, and, who knows-- maybe Soldier would be too occupied with Tony's shitty first aid to notice. (Yeah, asking a sniper not to notice something? Pigs are more likely to fly. Hell, it's not like a layer of denim does much for him-- maybe Soldier already noticed.) Tony didn't even think about it (clearly) before now, but showing off the arc reactor also meant showing Soldier his top scars.
Well, whatever. It would come out eventually. Especially with all the time they were theoretically going to be spending together.
Pop the button, undo the fly, remember he probably has to take his sneakers off first, then shimmy the denim down his legs. The only thing more mortifying would be wearing boxers with Iron Man on them, so thankfully Tony isn't. Not today, at least.
"There's a joke in here somewhere about taking me out to dinner first," he mumbles, more to himself than his audience. Tony suppresses a wince when he has to open his knees to give Soldier more leverage. His only saving grace is that Soldier definitely isn't the nosy type, nor the type to ask questions. Maybe they could ignore the, like, twenty seven different elephants in the room with their combined ability of avoidance.