The longer time passes with nothing being said-- both literally and in the sense that Soldier doesn't say something like, "hey, bro, where's your dick?" (which, for the record, is absolutely not how he'd phrase it in any known universe, but it's a funny mental image nonetheless)-- Tony relaxes. Or, well, relaxes might be a stretch, but he definitely calms down.
For an assassin, Soldier is shockingly good at this. He's meticulous, precise, and efficient, for starters, but by no means rushed or harsh or anything like that. It's funny: in a way, Soldier's poor bedside manner works in his favor here. Tony's never liked hospitals or doctors, and he's never been comforted by idle chatter and small talk, or any of the other strategies doctors and nurses pull out. The cheer always felt too fake or too patronizing (or both), and he'd always get lectures. Being a genius aside, Tony lives in his own body. He's well aware of the consequences of his shitty self care habits, thank you very much.
What really gets Tony is that Soldier is being so gentle. That, in and of itself, is almost scarier than if Soldier had just been rough about it, or just tried to kill him again. Maybe more so, actually, because Tony's touch-starved skin blooming with happy and overwhelmed warmth, seeking out moremoremore like a sunflower tilting towards the sun is, uh, not ideal. To say the least.
(When was the last time Tony had been handled with care? Excluding Pepper and Rhodey, every moment of contact in recent memory has been of violence, and through a metal suit. And besides, it's not like he sees either of them as often as any of them would like.)
In an attempt to distract himself, Tony focuses in on the metal arm. It's surprisingly dexterous. Soldier uses it like he would a second flesh and blood one, an obvious familiarity with it, but also it really does seem that technologically impressive. The how of Hydra having tech this good, seventy odd years ago, will always bug Tony-- ever the curious, ever the engineer-- but even the best prosthesis is still that: a prosthesis. Does it cause him pain? Are there any problems, areas to improve? Does Soldier do his own upkeep? All that swirls around and around in Tony's overactive mind.
(How much pain would it have to cause Soldier before anyone knew? It's a nauseating thought.)
Just when Tony thinks he'll escape this situation unscathed or with his dignity even somewhat intact, Soldier-- he tucks a lock of his long hair behind his ear, unthinking, another gesture laced with so much familiarity he must do it countless upon countless times. It reminds Tony that he'd thought the guy was beautiful earlier, and that certainly hasn't changed. Even looking worse for the wear (but surely better than how Tony himself is fairing), his hair still tangled and hectic, wearing the same clothes he's been wearing for God knows how long, ragged and tired, Soldier continues to be so. He, by all accounts, shouldn't, and Tony shouldn't even be thinking it, but like the reactor keeping the shrapnel from his heart, Tony feels the pull like a magnet, dragging everything to the surface. He's just glad he has the self restraint to do something like, say, reaching out to touch, finger combing to try and work out the knots and tangles.
Swallowing thickly, like that'll shove everything down, Tony finally feels like he can take a breath when Soldier finishes, and moves away.
"No, it-- uh. It's better. Thanks." The jangling of his belt feels loud as he shimmies back into his jeans. Soldier watching makes Tony's cheeks flush. Maybe it's because they didn't actually do anything sexual at all that makes it more raw and vulnerable and thus, more embarrassing.
"I went ahead and ordered some food for us. Do you--" wait, actually, before that, Tony checks his watch-- and, yeah, FRIDAY's already running a timer for how long they have until it gets here. They'll be just fine. "Do you want me to take you to your floor? I don't know about you, but a shower always helps me feel better after a shitty day."
To anyone else, it would have sounded more like a tease or a jab, a subtle but entirely unstable you smell. But Tony's being entirely truthful, that really is what helps sometimes when nothing else does. Plus, Soldier just looks disheveled, it's not like he was wading through a dumpster or anything. Maybe Tony can introduce him to the wonders of conditioner.
"Figured you might want your own space where people won't bother you. But if it's too much-- we'll figure something out." (He knows he can go overboard with the gift giving. It's just what he does. A love language, even.)
The awkward my leg is injured waddle to the elevator that he does will definitely be funny in the future, but, unfortunately, it's not the future yet. At least it doesn't hurt anymore.
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For an assassin, Soldier is shockingly good at this. He's meticulous, precise, and efficient, for starters, but by no means rushed or harsh or anything like that. It's funny: in a way, Soldier's poor bedside manner works in his favor here. Tony's never liked hospitals or doctors, and he's never been comforted by idle chatter and small talk, or any of the other strategies doctors and nurses pull out. The cheer always felt too fake or too patronizing (or both), and he'd always get lectures. Being a genius aside, Tony lives in his own body. He's well aware of the consequences of his shitty self care habits, thank you very much.
What really gets Tony is that Soldier is being so gentle. That, in and of itself, is almost scarier than if Soldier had just been rough about it, or just tried to kill him again. Maybe more so, actually, because Tony's touch-starved skin blooming with happy and overwhelmed warmth, seeking out moremoremore like a sunflower tilting towards the sun is, uh, not ideal. To say the least.
(When was the last time Tony had been handled with care? Excluding Pepper and Rhodey, every moment of contact in recent memory has been of violence, and through a metal suit. And besides, it's not like he sees either of them as often as any of them would like.)
In an attempt to distract himself, Tony focuses in on the metal arm. It's surprisingly dexterous. Soldier uses it like he would a second flesh and blood one, an obvious familiarity with it, but also it really does seem that technologically impressive. The how of Hydra having tech this good, seventy odd years ago, will always bug Tony-- ever the curious, ever the engineer-- but even the best prosthesis is still that: a prosthesis. Does it cause him pain? Are there any problems, areas to improve? Does Soldier do his own upkeep? All that swirls around and around in Tony's overactive mind.
(How much pain would it have to cause Soldier before anyone knew? It's a nauseating thought.)
Just when Tony thinks he'll escape this situation unscathed or with his dignity even somewhat intact, Soldier-- he tucks a lock of his long hair behind his ear, unthinking, another gesture laced with so much familiarity he must do it countless upon countless times. It reminds Tony that he'd thought the guy was beautiful earlier, and that certainly hasn't changed. Even looking worse for the wear (but surely better than how Tony himself is fairing), his hair still tangled and hectic, wearing the same clothes he's been wearing for God knows how long, ragged and tired, Soldier continues to be so. He, by all accounts, shouldn't, and Tony shouldn't even be thinking it, but like the reactor keeping the shrapnel from his heart, Tony feels the pull like a magnet, dragging everything to the surface. He's just glad he has the self restraint to do something like, say, reaching out to touch, finger combing to try and work out the knots and tangles.
Swallowing thickly, like that'll shove everything down, Tony finally feels like he can take a breath when Soldier finishes, and moves away.
"No, it-- uh. It's better. Thanks." The jangling of his belt feels loud as he shimmies back into his jeans. Soldier watching makes Tony's cheeks flush. Maybe it's because they didn't actually do anything sexual at all that makes it more raw and vulnerable and thus, more embarrassing.
"I went ahead and ordered some food for us. Do you--" wait, actually, before that, Tony checks his watch-- and, yeah, FRIDAY's already running a timer for how long they have until it gets here. They'll be just fine. "Do you want me to take you to your floor? I don't know about you, but a shower always helps me feel better after a shitty day."
To anyone else, it would have sounded more like a tease or a jab, a subtle but entirely unstable you smell. But Tony's being entirely truthful, that really is what helps sometimes when nothing else does. Plus, Soldier just looks disheveled, it's not like he was wading through a dumpster or anything. Maybe Tony can introduce him to the wonders of conditioner.
"Figured you might want your own space where people won't bother you. But if it's too much-- we'll figure something out." (He knows he can go overboard with the gift giving. It's just what he does. A love language, even.)
The awkward my leg is injured waddle to the elevator that he does will definitely be funny in the future, but, unfortunately, it's not the future yet. At least it doesn't hurt anymore.