With the okay for scans, Tony has FRIDAY get to work. While it's a little vague, Soldier's instructions give Tony the perfect frame of reference for what areas he should focus on. Otherwise, he'd keep going until he'd tinkered with every inch of the damn thing.
(Keeping the star makes Tony frown in this scrunchy, pouty way of his-- not dissimilar to a child when they don't get what they want-- but he doesn't verbally object. You can't exactly expect Soldier to shake off the effects of the programming within a day, but Tony can still be grumbly about it.)
Since he has to wait for the scans to finish before he can do anything, Tony's attention span starts to itch for something else to keep it occupied. So of course his eyes skip around the room, and land back on Solider contemplating his coffee mug. And then Tony sees the tears, and-- fuck, what does he do?
Calling attention to it seems like a recipe for disaster. A gentle breeze would probably have Soldier retreating and pulling away, so like hell is Tony going to shine a spotlight directly onto him. The gut reaction he has is to just ignore it, but that's not what Tony really wants to do-- he's self aware enough to know that it's just a fear response, being anxious avoidant as usual.
The vow to avoid being vulnerable and honest was still hot off the press, was Tony seriously considering doing it again? But what else could he do?
(Begrudgingly, it was nice. Tony was the type of guy to dump and run, and talking with Soldier was sort of like talking to a brick wall. Well-- okay, that sounds meaner than he meant it. There's none of the pity eyes or sympathy frowns, is what he means-- which just makes Tony's skin prickle and make the urge to escape worse.)
"Good, isn't it?" Tony doesn't make eye contact, and it's only partly for Soldier's sake. It's easier to fake a casualness he doesn't feel, this way. "Admittedly I've always been a coffee snob, but I figure: 'hey, you only live once, why skimp on the good stuff?' It's the little things in life."
Touch is undoubtedly still risky, but Tony's stupid little touch starved hindbrain is in overdrive after earlier, so he can't help himself. He steps up next to Soldier (with his own mug in hand) and leans against the guy-- still not making eye contact. While taking some of the weight off his leg is nice, and Tony will absolutely use it as an excuse if asked, that's exactly what it feels like: an excuse. Taking weight off your leg doesn't mean you need to lay your head on someone's shoulder, but here he is.
God, age is making him soft. Stark men are made of iron-- all of them except Tony, that is.
(But being made of iron would mean he wouldn't get to feel the press of another against him, or their body heat, or the warmth of coffee through a ceramic mug, so maybe being flesh and blood isn't so bad.)
no subject
(Keeping the star makes Tony frown in this scrunchy, pouty way of his-- not dissimilar to a child when they don't get what they want-- but he doesn't verbally object. You can't exactly expect Soldier to shake off the effects of the programming within a day, but Tony can still be grumbly about it.)
Since he has to wait for the scans to finish before he can do anything, Tony's attention span starts to itch for something else to keep it occupied. So of course his eyes skip around the room, and land back on Solider contemplating his coffee mug. And then Tony sees the tears, and-- fuck, what does he do?
Calling attention to it seems like a recipe for disaster. A gentle breeze would probably have Soldier retreating and pulling away, so like hell is Tony going to shine a spotlight directly onto him. The gut reaction he has is to just ignore it, but that's not what Tony really wants to do-- he's self aware enough to know that it's just a fear response, being anxious avoidant as usual.
The vow to avoid being vulnerable and honest was still hot off the press, was Tony seriously considering doing it again? But what else could he do?
(Begrudgingly, it was nice. Tony was the type of guy to dump and run, and talking with Soldier was sort of like talking to a brick wall. Well-- okay, that sounds meaner than he meant it. There's none of the pity eyes or sympathy frowns, is what he means-- which just makes Tony's skin prickle and make the urge to escape worse.)
"Good, isn't it?" Tony doesn't make eye contact, and it's only partly for Soldier's sake. It's easier to fake a casualness he doesn't feel, this way. "Admittedly I've always been a coffee snob, but I figure: 'hey, you only live once, why skimp on the good stuff?' It's the little things in life."
Touch is undoubtedly still risky, but Tony's stupid little touch starved hindbrain is in overdrive after earlier, so he can't help himself. He steps up next to Soldier (with his own mug in hand) and leans against the guy-- still not making eye contact. While taking some of the weight off his leg is nice, and Tony will absolutely use it as an excuse if asked, that's exactly what it feels like: an excuse. Taking weight off your leg doesn't mean you need to lay your head on someone's shoulder, but here he is.
God, age is making him soft. Stark men are made of iron-- all of them except Tony, that is.
(But being made of iron would mean he wouldn't get to feel the press of another against him, or their body heat, or the warmth of coffee through a ceramic mug, so maybe being flesh and blood isn't so bad.)