I need a whole box of tissues when I contemplate how little of the Marvel universe I own.
Also, updates will begin to slow down from now on. A couple of new items have been added to my daily to-do list and there just aren't enough hours in a day for everything. But stay tuned-I will continue to post as I am able! :)
Tony has never liked silence. Ir reminds him of funerals and seventh grade math tests. His ideal is loud, obnoxious parties, where everyone is talking but everyone else is too drunk to remember what was said. No one call recall the insults and the slights that ruin relationships. Not that Tony has ever had that many meaningful relationships. He used to like it that way. But now, he's not so sure. A few special people have entered his life and he'd like to keep them there.
He prefers quite to silence. And there is a difference. Quiet is the echoing hum of electric lights in his lab, overlaid with the timid murmurs of his machines. Quiet means solitude and space to think. Silence is oppressive and squeezes the air from his lungs. Silence is what he hears when the members of the Avengers Initiative slump on the upholstered cushions of his new furniture.
Tony sends a glare in the direction of Steve Rogers. After all, shouldn't the captain be ensuring the safety and comfort of his team? Tony is a member of the team and the silence makes him decidedly uncomfortable. But Rogers' face is buried in his hands and he sees neither Tony's fidgeting nor his accusing stare.
Tony sighs and Barton flinches at the sudden noise, soft though it is. When Clint straightens from his perch on the arm of the sofa to ascertain whether anyone noticed his unbecoming twitch, Tony is careful to school his features into a neutral expression. It's the same one he's used at countless press conferences and board meetings. Satisfied his secret is safe, Barton's shoulders resume their bowed position.
Cautiously, Tony rotates his head to the side to catch a glimpse of Romanoff. He can hardly believe it when he sees the redness in her eyes and the water shimmering on their surface. He whips his head back to the front to allow her privacy, although he doubts it matters. She hasn't moved her stare from the fabric flowers on the coffee table since she'd sat down.
With a shiver, Tony raises his eyes and is surprised to find Banner's brown gaze boring into his. It's a look of sadness that the doctor sends his way and Tony doesn't do sad. He doesn't really do any emotion that well anyway. And his emotions have been twisted in so many different directions in only a few hours that he's sure he's going to need to iron out the wrinkles.
The silence grows and stretches, pulling Tony's stomach taunt. He doesn't like stomach aches and he's tired of feeling the silence and the sadness. So he does what he does best. He breaks the silence with a joke.
It's not really funny but it's not supposed to be. After what they've all been through, it would be disrespectful to try to manipulate a genuine laugh out of anyone. But Tony does it to snap the spell that's been dragging their heads to the polished floor.
Banner looks startled by the interruption. Relief is visible on Romanoff's face and Barton actually manages to turn up the corner of his lips in what could almost pass for a smirk. Tony risks a glance at Rogers. He seems displeased, but hides it by rising from the couch. Following his lead, as they do in all things, the others stand. Steve suggests (though the hardness of his jaw reveals it's an order) that they all eat something before they go get some rest.
Clint and Natasha head for the door, gravitating toward each other like refrigerator magnets. Bruce hesitates but Rogers fixes him with a stare that bans all further argument. With a slight nod, the scientist excuses himself. Tony turns to leave, glad the silence is gone. But a hand on his shoulder stops him short. The hand is firm and the grip tightens as Tony faces its owner. Steve's eyes are dark and his lips are tight. Tony knows what's going to happen next. He can almost recite the words even as Steve says them. Tony remains motionless as the rebuke begins.
First on the list of his short comings is his flippant attitude that turns everything into a joke. Tony knows that Steve doesn't understand that it's a coping mechanism. Yes, Tony knows that phrase and what it means. He grew up rich, he'd been to a psychiatrist before (his mother's idea.) Second, Steve points out the flaws in his performance during that day's failed mission. And Tony lets him be unfair and overcritical. Because Tony understands that it's important for Steve to let it out. When Steve criticizes Tony, he's releasing the anger and the guilt that would otherwise fester in his head, building pressure until they came out in the form of physical action. Tony has seen Steve on a bad day. He would hate to see him on a worse one.
Something became clear to Tony during one of these sessions-it was actually a privilege to be the one that Steve berated. It showed a certain level of trust. Maybe Tony was reading too much into it, but he came to the conclusion that Steve needed a release but wouldn't dare to do it in front of any of the team. Except for Tony. Tony liked to think that Steve knew he had a hard skin, that the captain knew he understood. Steve let Tony see him at his most vulnerable. When Steve upbraided him, Tony could see in his eyes the pain, the pain that came from a failed mission, when they were just a little too late, when they couldn't save everyone. Steve kept it hidden from Fury, from Banner, from everyone but Stark. Tony knew that and treasured it as the twisted sign of respect that it was.
It was nothing personal. Steve would always apologize to him later, once the hurt had lessened and his anger had cooled. Tony also knew that to acknowledge that anything had happened would embarrass the soldier to the point of alienation and Tony was surprised to find that he himself didn't want that to even be a possibility. So he would brush aside the apology and break the awkward silence that would follow. He would do it the only way he knew how: with a joke.