The Heat of the Moment
Chapter 3: Deeply, Forever
In the immediate aftermath, Steve wouldn't remember the crackling remnants of the blaze as it slowly burnt out, wouldn't remember his own harsh breathing. He wouldn't remember the fear, shock or panic, barely held at bay. He wouldn't remember the soft, wet thud Tony's body had made when Steve had heaved him out of the water onto the bank. Wouldn't remember the aching silence where there should have been breath.
Strangely, thinking back later, Steve would remember only the fizzle and hiss of water as it splashed down upon the steaming bank around him.
At the time though, the heat that bit at his legs didn't even register as he dropped to his knees beside Tony's motionless form.
For an instant, abject horror held Steve immobile, a raw mantra of 'What have I done?' repeating through his mind, echoing with savage guilt, devastation and the possibility of unimaginable loss.
Was this how it happened?
Was this how the world lost Ironman, lost Tony fucking Stark?
Was this how Steve lost Tony?
To a cruel watery death, by Steve's own hand?
Tony, who had trusted him, beyond and above all else?
Tony, who was dead.
Murdered.
Trembling legs gave out beneath him, and Steve slumped backward onto the steaming bank, one shaking hand coming up to cover his eyes, shielding himself from what he'd done. Shielding, but unable to protect himself from the knowledge.
Murderer.
Wide blue eyes rolled in their sockets as anxiety induced vertigo caused white pinpricks of light to burst across his vision, and the edges to fade to black. Steve fought against the threatening darkness, because as inviting escape as unconsciousness would be, he didn't deserve that escape.
For what he'd done, he deserved to stay awake, aware, deserved to feel this guilt, this devastation.
Deserved to feel this pain.
He deserved to die.
Wanted to.
And for that, Steve hated himself even more.
Tony, who'd never been anything less than full of life, was dead.
And not feet away, Steve wanted to die. Felt like he was dying, although whether more of grief or guilt he didn't know.
Tony lay, cold and unmoving, his waxen skin an ashen grey, the blue tint of his lips nothing to do with the soft blue glow that flooded through sodden cotton, and Steve had done th-
…blue glow.
The arc reactor.
And Steve's blurred, hazy surroundings snapped back into focus as his mind jolted with adrenaline and realisation, breaking through the blanket of shock that had settled over him.
Steve didn't know how the arc reactor worked.
He knew that it was essentially a magnet that kept shrapnel from entering Tony's heart and killing him, but beyond that, the arc reactor technology was completely foreign to him.
Steve didn't know if the glow of the arc reactor meant Tony was still alive, but he also didn't know if it didn't.
More than that, the utter familiarity of it, the comfort and assurance that he associated with that soft whir and muted glow, brought him back from the edge of self-immolation, and with a great heaving gasp, Steve threw himself toward Tony.
Trembling fingers circled a lax wrist, searching for a pulse and damp blond hair settled over equally damp cotton as Steve pressed his ear to Tony's chest, listening for his heart beat.
His. And Tony's.
They were one and the same these days.
The whir of the arc reactor was loud, the rush of his own blood deafening in his ears, and Steve held his breath, straining to hear a soft thu-thump, thu-thump through the suddenly cacophonous silence.
He felt a desperation stir low in his stomach, and something else, worse than the guilt and devastation, something that promised the potential to hurt him tenfold and again.
Hope.
Something that, once kindled, would burn hotter than the fires of hell, unable to be controlled or dampened. It would build, and burn within, becoming stronger and more consuming with each moment, until finally it was realised, and became surety.
Or was not realised, and became despair.
Cursing his own stupidity and thoughtlessness, Steve fumbled for a firmer hold on Tony's wrist, feeling for the steady thump that would indicate life. How could he have waisted so many precious seconds? Why hadn't he tried immediately…
In the back of his mind, Steve knew how to do this. They'd all done preliminary first-aid after the third mid-battle incident involving blood, and CPR had been one of the things they'd learnt.
But they'd never discussed this particular situation.
Why hadn't anyone thought to ask, to find out?
Steve didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't find a pulse. Could he even do chest compressions, with the arc reactor so invasive?
Was that a pulse he could feel, throbbing beneath his fingertips, or just the echoes of the thud of his own heart? He couldn't tell below the vibrations of his shaking hand.
The chest beneath his ear didn't rise or fall, and no air passed through Tony's slightly parted lips.
Yet, beneath the soft whir of the arc reactor, strangely loud in the silence, Steve could hear it.
Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thu-thump.
A heartbeat. Quiet, thready and irregular, but still there.
Tony was still alive.
Alive, but not breathing.
Steve knew how to do this, but it hadn't been the learning, memory or any deliberate reasoning that had prompted him to lean over, seal his lips over Tony's and breathe.
It had just been the screaming in his mind, demanding that he do something.
Another breath and Steve pulled back, watching as Tony's chest fell again, Steve's air escaping his unresponsive lungs.
Tony remained ominously still beneath Steve's bowed form, lips parted, softly glistening from the recently departed mouth that sought to save him.
Steve swallowed thickly, hope and paralysing fear tearing at him in equal measure, and he leaned down, breathing again, one hand settling heavily beside the arc reactor, hoping to feel a quiver of muscle or a draw of air.
Nothing.
"Please. Please. Come on Tony. Don't do this, don't- please…" Steve whispered fervently, begging into the sudden quiet of the night, the inferno having burnt down to slow hissing pops and soft cracks in the distance.
Sudden focus chasing away the dark wavering shadow that lurked at the edges of his mind, Steve pressed his lips to Tony's again, sharing his breath with a level of determination that only someone with a loved one in mortal peril could ever hope to achieve.
Running a shuddering hand over clammy skin, Steve whistled a loose breath between his teeth, tense and desperate as he watched for the steady rise of Tony's chest to follow his slow involuntary exhale. When it didn't come, Steve heaved a broken gasping sob, and pressed his lips back to lax ones that didn't respond to his touch.
The dark fog of before was gone, the shock replaced by focus and resolve. He could do this. He had to do this. Failure was not an option.
"Breathe. Come on, Tony, breathe! " Steve ordered, the demand in his voice so overwhelmingly authoritative that Tony would have likely broken out in hives and an equally proportionate disposition of 'go fuck yourself' had he heard.
Tony didn't so much as twitch, and The Captain faded away, replaced by Steve, hopelessly, desperately in love, slowly dying inside, breathing air into Tony's mouth and ghosting desperation across his lips, "Please, please. I can't lose- I need you. I need you. Please. Tony. Breathe…"
And Tony did.
Steve pulled back, just slightly, as Tony suddenly spasm beneath him, great heaving, shuddering gasps of air filling the silence around them.
Shock, disbelief and throat seizing gratitude stole Steve's higher thought capabilities for a second, before glazed, panicked brown eyes drifted over him, and shaking himself out of it, Steve reached out to draw Tony to his chest.
With a wet spluttering shriek, Tony flinched violently away, scuttling backwards with a pained yelp, a half bitten off sob caught between trembling lips as he rasped out, "Get the fuck away !"
The dim lighting of the cave pierced the sullen darkness as Tony was forced back to consciousness, his brain sluggishly trying to fire, but his exhausted, terrified mind was resisting the reboot, longing to return to the escape of oblivion.
He was wet.
They'd fucking tried drowning him in a barrel of water. Again.
Each and every time he refused, was steadfast in his stubborn obstinacy, but they'd seen enough to know that he would break, eventually. The water would break him. It terrified him, the sudden plunge into black tepid water, his eyes stinging as he forced them open, desperately trying to see. Bubbles of precious oxygen pebbling from his pressed lips, sliding away, to the surface where he couldn't go. The worst, lacking any sense of control, struggling despite knowing the absolute vanity of the action, knowing that they could so easily go too far, and he'd drown for real, die, or that heavy weight cradled in his arms would spark to life, and fry him from the heart out.
Trickles of water crawled from his hairline and down his neck, irritating his hyper-sensitized skin, and a full body shiver of revulsion shook him.
Searing pain ravaged his lungs, his chest throbbing with heavy agony, Tony shook himself further from the grasping darkness, his body twitching and spasming uncontrollably as he rode the pain to the surface.
Finally, he opened his eyes, vision blurry and wet as he blinked warily at the dank ceiling that hang low and dark above him, smoke tendrils from the one of the terrorist's fires curling through the air.
And then his eyes found the looming form before him, and widened as panic and fear shot through him like wildfire. They always dumped him in the corner of the cave when he passed out, leaving him alone- was it not over yet?
The figure reached for him, and Tony threw himself backwards with a strangled yell, gasping back a pained whimper as coils of agony swept over him, thoughts circling in frantic alarm, no, not the water, not again. Not the water… his voice was raspy as he fought back,because he always fought back, "Get the fuck away!"
And the figure did, pulling back immediately, which threw Tony so far off guard that he actually stilled his defensive flailing to stare.
And saw dirty blonde hair, plastered wetly over pasty white skin, high points of flush in an otherwise colourless face and eyes so wide, so, blue, so anguished, so familiar.
Fire, running, water, breath, burning, Steve.
"Steve", the word was soft breath on a sigh, and then Tony launched himself toward the shadowy figure.
Arms automatically coming up to catch the armful of wet, shivering genius, Steve blinked down stupidly, still trying to make the sudden leap from terrified, to fearless.
Tony had looked at him with such complete and total fear, such terror, Steve had been sure his heart had shattered into a thousand tiny pieces in his chest. Tony was afraid, of him.
Steve couldn't blame him.
He'd forced his lover under the water, held him down while he drowned. Steve had drowned him, put him through what was probably one of the most terrifying ways to die that Tony could possible think of, in the same manner that he'd been tortured. Still had nightmares about still too many nights of the week for comfort, and feared like nothing else.
Tony should hate him, fear him.
And yet, here he was, curled within Steve's arms, face buried against Steve's chest, his hands fisted in damp cotton, shuddering and shaking and coming apart, but not afraid, at least, not afraid of Steve.
The sound of teeth chattering violently drew Steve back from his shock, and he wrapped an arm more tightly around Tony's waist, turning him within his grasp, pulling him closer, flush against his body.
It wasn't cold, but Tony was wet, and likely in some severity of shock, still unsure as to exactly what had happened, frightened and confused.
A hitched breath, barely holding out from being a sob rent the air between them, and Steve, squeezed tighter, murmuring "Hey, hey, s-shhh. Deep breaths. I've got you, you're alri- "
His own breath hitched and his eyes watered as he realized the truth of the statement, somehow, Tony was still here, with him. Only a minute or two ago he'd been sure Tony was gone, that the person who had brought him to life and kept him sane, whom he loved more that he'd ever thought possible was dead, and that it was his own fault.
And now Tony was pressed as close as he could literally get without crawling into Steve's skin, his arms wound about Steve as he shivered and shook, frightened, hurt and confused, but alive.
"You're alright. You- you're still- I'm-" Steve trailed off unable to find the words he wanted, unable to express his complete and utter world-turning gratitude, that somehow, against all odds Tony Stark had once again defied expectations.
Tony curled closer, shivering with such force that he was all but vibrating from Steve's grasp, his lips murmuring soundlessly against Steve's throat.
"Thankyou", Steve wasn't sure who he was whispering the heartfelt thanks to, but he meant it, fervently, with all his heart.
Steve would have happily sat there for the next however many hours, content to cradle Tony, warm and moving, against his chest, but Tony was in shock, injured, and had been unconscious for several minutes. Steve needed to get them to help.
Using one arm to keep his quivering lover upright, Steve couldn't help the smile that stole across his face at Tony's groan of displeasure, the small gesture of annoyance more reassuring than any placating answer of 'I'm fine'.
Steve brought his free hand up and caught Tony from the left, cradling his cheek, keeping his head from weaving drunkenly on his shoulders. He met brown eyes with blue, and holding until they focused, spoke quietly, enunciating carefully "Tony? You with me, Sweetheart?"
"Mhmm." was his response; along with what would have been a very convincing nod, had it not been for the previously noted head weaving.
Steve smiled, fond and gentle, "If you say so. Do you know where you are? What-" Steve had to stop, swallowing thickly, before continuing "What happened?"
Tony nodded, his voice a raspy raw mess as he answered, "Always the fucking water-" before breaking into a fit of gasping, spluttering coughs. His whole body was shaking violently from the onslaught, and between harsh breaths of air and choking coughs that did little but trigger more choking coughs, Steve could hear hiccupping whimpers of pain.
Dragging Tony close again, he placed a hand over his lovers stomach, speaking quietly, "Slow breaths, through your nose." Tony tried to follow his direction, but each breath triggered another coughing fit, and each coughing fit was worse than the one before, sending shudders of agony down Tony's back and into his limbs.
Steve felt useless, helpless. The only thing that might help was a drink of water, but the grotto behind them was the only source, and they had nothing to carry it in. There was no way he was going to drag Tony over and shove his face back under the surface.
"Breathe, come on- Look at me, "Steve's voice was reassuring, for all that he was panicking as he watched the tint of blue return to soft pink lips.
Tears of pain and oxygen deprivation where stream down Tony's cheeks as he hiccupped and gasped between coughs, and unable to think of anything else, Steve brought the hem of his shirt up to wipe them away-
God, for a supposedly brilliant tactician, he was brick thick.
Stripping his shirt off over his head in one swift movement, Steve flung it out behind him, keeping hold of the hem. He heard the dull splash as the upper part of the shirt landed in the water, and a second later, he dragged his sodden, dripping shirt back into his arms.
"Trust me, hold still-" Steve didn't explain, as he shifted Tony, bending him down backwards over a supporting arm, his other balling a section of the shirt into his fist, and holding it over Tony's mouth, he said, "Open your mouth, don't breathe in." and squeezed.
The tiny rivulet of water landed exactly where Steve had intended, and Tony swallowed the small mouthful slowly, in several 'sips', his throat soothed by the liquid, but his mind not, and he shuddered violently as the wet shirt dripped onto his chest.
Steve discarded it behind himself, and dragged Tony back into his embrace, tucking the dark head of hair beneath his chin as he rocked him slowly, a huff of relief the only sound that escaped him as Tony finally stopped coughing.
"So. Let's not do that again any time soon" Tony said quietly, barely more than a whisper, raspy at a low husk, but it didn't trigger any coughing.
"Agreed." Steve answered, pressing his lips to Tony's temple, squeezing once tightly before settling back, saying, "What's say we see about getting out of here? I know a good doctor that would probably like to take a look at you right about now."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't think I'd mind seeing him either, right about now, if only so Jolly green could give us a lift home-" Tony bemoaned, slowly starting to sit upright, limbs still trembling, cold to the core, but forcing himself to gather his remaining energy, wan though the offering was.
"Where do you think you're going?" Steve asked, pulling Tony back down against him, carding his fingers through cold tangles when Tony simply huffed a breath against his cheek and slumped bonelessly as he answered, contrary to his behaviour, "Up. Walking, you know. Home?"
"Injured ankle, injured wrist, smoke inhalation, drowned- I'm carrying you." Steve replied drolly, wondering if he was about to have an argument with Tony, when the man could hardly sit up.
It really wouldn't surprise him.
"Oh. Okay.", was Tony's mumbled reply, and that did worry Steve.
Looking down he was met with half hooded eyes, as exhaustion and fatigue caught up to Tony as adrenaline wore off.
"Hey. Hey, stay awake. No slacking off on me." Steve prodded, also concerned by the continuing trembles that wracked Tony's body, despite both of them having been mostly dried by the lingering heat.
"M' not. Up, cap- home-", Tony garbled around a yawn, settling more heavily into Steve's arms, his eyes dipping closed completely.
Steve got to his feet, slowly, carefully, an arm going beneath Tony's legs to cradle him sideways, bridal style.
With Tony wheezing softly, still shivering and shuddering intermittently in his arms, Steve turned toward the gaping mouth of the canyon in the distance, and was suddenly struck by exactly how far he had to go, before they even reached a road, let alone found help.
It had seemed such a short distance in their mad dash earlier in the night, fire breathing down their necks and snapping at their heels. The distance that stretched out before him now, full of overturned logs, small gorges, and still burning patches, that he had to traverse on legs that felt like spaghetti, with the most precious part of his life solely reliant on him, was near unfathomable.
But Steve would walk through flames for the man in his arms, even if that was a literal interpretation, and so, with a deep fortifying breath, he started off into the denser part of the smouldering forest.
He'd gone not 50 meters when his enhanced hearing picked it up.
The distinctive thump of the quinjet engines.
"He really should be in a hospital. He needs to be monitored." Bruce said quietly, continuing a discussion that had obviously been going on for a while.
Steve sighed, looking up from where his fingers were idly drawing loops across the hem of Tony's pillowcase, "He won't go, and if he does he won't stay, and if he does he won't relax, he won't rest. You know better than anyone, Bruce, what he's like in hospitals."
Bruce looked torn, the doctor in him demanding that Tony be seen by an actual professional. That someone with a history of drowning, a history of lung infections and chest problems, with something so invasive as the arc reactor, someone who'd been unconscious, possibly dead, shouldn't be anywhere other than hospital.
The friend demanded that everyone just back off and let Tony sleep. That what he needed most he'd only find right here, already beside him, in the form of his very protective partner, devoted friends and supportive family. That hospitals, and Tony's utter hate and understandable mistrust, would only make the situation worse.
The monster just raged at the senselessness of what had happened, at how useless they all felt, upset that there was nothing to SMASH in retaliation.
In the end, the friend won out, and Bruce nodded slowly, replying, "Okay. But at the first, the very first sign of something getting worse, he's straight to hospital. Don't leave him alone."
"Not even for a second", Steve promised, a small smile breaking across his still pale face as he tucked one of Tony's hands in his, as if to say, 'See- I've got your back'.
Bruce nodded again, gathering up his bag as he stood, his eyes mapping over Tony's still form, curled up beneath the blankets of his ridiculously large bed, to the blond man seated on the edge, half curled over his lover.
He was fairly sure that somewhere in the back of Steve's mind, there was also the reasoning of not wanting to let Tony out of his sight, even for a second, which would no doubt happen at a hospital.
Bruce couldn't say he blamed the man.
"Let me know when he wakes up. Take it easy Steve, you get some rest too and if you need someone- to talk to, or even just to sit with… you know where I am." Bruce smiled at the duck of Steve's head, glad for the small nod he received as he turned and left the room.
As the door slid shut silently behind the departing physicist, Steve relaxed into an uncharacteristic slump, running a hand through his gritty feeling, but thankfully dry, hair, and down over the side of his face.
Silence engulfed the room, and Steve sat truly still, mind and body, for the first time since he'd woken to an orange glow on the horizon. Just out of his field of vision, a minute head tilt to the left, Tony lay sleeping, peacefully, safe and sound in the familiar comfort of their bedroom.
Steve felt his hands start to tremble gently, and breathed in a deep, jagged, shuddering breath that filled his lungs, and breathed out slowly, eyes slipping closed as he tried to let go of the build-up of unimaginable emotional toil.
He felt…jittery, like he needed to go for a run, but at the same time, so bone deep exhausted, that he felt he could sleep for a week. His mind was a sluggish repartition of the worst evening of his life, and then a spark of one of the best moments of his life.
Getting to his feet carefully, Steve moved away from the bed, lest his sudden restless feeling wake Tony, Steve wandered across the room, kicking off still wet trainers and damp socks as he went, his toes curling into the soft luxury of the carpet, grounding himself.
He stopped by the windows, pressing his hands flat against the ceiling to floor glass panels that looked out over the sleeping city from 90 stories above the earth. Pre-dawn light was just beginning to glow on the horizon, and Steve knew that he would have to close the curtains soon, or the light would wake Tony, but for a moment he just stared.
Lights of all colours glowed across the cityscape like a million sparks of energy, some twinkling, flashing, and strobing, others constant and unwavering. Even so early in the morning, the city never truly stopped, and for once, Steve was glad for the gentle hum he could feel travelling up his legs, and slight blur of movement he could see below.
"Steve?", came the soft questioning voice from behind him.
Not of his identity, Tony would have been a hell of a lot less calm had he been unsure who was in the bedroom with him, but groggy, muffled, and laced with warmth and concern and need and longing.
Steve stared out for a moment longer, but not wanting to worry his already hurt lover, he slowly drew his attention inward, his gaze focusing on the reflection in the window, rather than what was beyond it.
Soft blue glow seeped across the glass, lighting upon the angles and curves of the room, and as Steve gazed at Tony's shadow-kissed reflection, he felt his heart finally calm back to its usual steady beat, his jittery nerves relaxed and the building anxiety just flowed from his extremities.
Closing the curtains, he turned from the reflection to face the real thing.
Tony was sitting up in bed, although sitting up was used lightly, the genius was all but folded in on himself in an attempt to stay half upright against the sea of pillows that polluted the bed. His hair was an absolute shock of tangles, some flattened against his skull, some curly from the water and most of it more likeable to a birds nest than Tony's usually half-coifed head of hair.
His skin was still pale, alabaster almost, in the darkness of the room, and Steve could see where high points of colour sat at his cheeks and dusted across his nose. Bruce had warned him to watch for a high fever, but that a low grade one was to be expected for a little while.
Dark brown eyes were an almost oily black in the shadows of the room, and Steve could see the exhaustion bruising beneath them, but while being tired and more than a little glazed, they were bright and alive with spark.
"Take a picture, It'll last longer" Tony sassed quietly, breaking Steve from his revere and propelling him into movement across the room.
"I'll draw one later, if I can get you to sit still long enough", Steve replied, knowing the comeback was weak, but not caring when a sappy smile chased a huff of laughter from Tony's lips.
"Planning on staring melancholically at the city all night, or would you prefer to wrap your boyfriend in a frankly ridiculous number of blankets and smother him with 'Thank god we made it kisses'? I'm probably not up to full 'near death experience aftermath sex', but I can- " Tony trailed off when Steve flinched, his own smile dripping away with a sigh, and he held out a hand to where Steve had stopped his approach.
"Come here." Tony said, actually wiggling his fingers in invitation, and Steve felt another smile threaten to break out despite the fact that his heart had just about stuttered to a standstill when Tony had mentioned what had happened in such a light, trivial manner.
Only his Tony.
His fingers slipped into Tony's like they were made for each other, intertwining easily, and Steve allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed with several weak tugs of his hand. He settled on the far edge of the bed, his arm stretched across the expanse between them, his fingers locked with Tony's in the middle.
Tony snorted with exasperated frustration, tugging again, weak and lacklustre but bearing plenty of insistence just the same.
Steve hesitated, explaining, "Your wrist is broken, and your ankle is sprained…I don't want to jostle y-"
"Well that's too bad, because I fucking well want to be jostled, and I want to be jostled by my fucking boyfriend right this fucking second. Can't a guy even get a fucking hug? Fuck! " It started out jovial, teasing, but within two sentences, all humour had left Tony's voice and the last word was bitten out on a sob.
Steve hushed him with soft murmuring; wordless noises that devolved into one another as he carefully rolled across the bed and gathered Tony into his arms.
For the longest time, no one spoke. Steve's fingers carded through snarled curls, loosening tangles, and swept down over Tony's neck and upper back, a warm, heavy, familiar pressure. Tony simply laid still, eyes closed and breathing evening out as he soaked up Steve's warm presence.
Finally it was Tony who spoke, his voice a muffled murmur against Steve's chest, "Do you think this is like, divine retribution or something? Karma? Am I such a horrible person that I deserve to be drowned like a rat?"
The question itself wasn't serious, but Steve could hear the true question beneath, and his own voice was intense as he replied, "No. Sometimes things just happen. No rhyme, no reason. Unbelievable, incredible, implausible, all the same, they happen. "
"I suppose you'd know, Mr 1940's- " Tony sighed, before adding, "I guess I just- I can't stand it. I don't want to go through it all again. I don't want the nightmares, and the flashbacks and the stupid irrational fears. I don't want you guys t- I just want to be fucking normal. Fucking water. "
"Fucking ice."
Tony stiffened beside him, and Steve almost regretted the words, knowing that it sounded like he was comparing Tony's fear with his own, trivialising it by calling it common, not important, but that wasn't what he meant at all.
"Everyone has something that is their weakness, a chink in their armour, "Steve explained, and feeling Tony relax against him, he continued, "We're here for you, just like you're here for us. As long as it takes, even if that's forever."
"Why Steve, that almost sounded like a proposal!", Tony teased, trying to shift the attention away from himself in the best way he knew how, deflection.
It didn't really work, with Steve just smiling enigmatically as he answered, "Nah, I've got something much better than that planned."
Tony actually pulled back to stare up at him.
And then promptly decided to pretend he hadn't heard a thing, tucking his face back against Steve's chest and asking, "So, who showed up to rescue us?"
Steve grinned when he realised that his own deflection had actually worked, even if it wasn't too far from the truth. At all.
"How do you know I didn't carry you out?" Steve asked, shuddering as he remembered those few meters in which he thought he'd have to do exactly that.
"I just know things" Tony replied, and then waving a hand across the room he said, "And that's Clint's blanket off the quinjet"
Steve nodded, "Yeah, Clint found us about five minutes after you passed out agai-"
"Fell asleep-" Tony interrupted.
"Passed out again", Steve reiterated with a grin, continuing "He had Bruce with him, Thor was in the sky and Nat was with S.H.I.E.L.D"
Tony nodded, his fingers coming up to dance across a cuff bandage wrapped around Steve's upper arm, "Bruce's work then?" he asked quietly.
Steve nodded, "Yeah- it's just a scratch, a branch whipped me while we were running I think, but you know what Bruce is like-"
"I do. And that begs the question, how am I still here as opposed to some sterile emergency care ward?" Tony asked, his fingers trailing away from the bandage, down Steve's arm to wind their fingers back together.
"I convinced Bruce you'd be better off here- you need to rest and I know you won't in hospital." Steve explained, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over Tony's knuckles.
"What!? I've said that every time in the history of every time I've been injured, and Bruce never listens to me! " Tony had squawked, before lowering his voice when a cough attacked him, although thankfully didn't turn into a coughing fit like earlier.
Steve smiled, "I guess I'm just more trustworthy than you. And I gave my word to Bruce that you'd stay in bed, off your ankle, wouldn't use your wrist, wouldn't shout, would drink plenty of water and would call for help if you didn't feel well, and I damn well intend to see that you don't make be break that promise Tony Stark."
Tony rolled his eyes, but nodded his agreement; after all, Bruce couldn't expect him to actually follow that directive.
Could he?
Steve grinned softly, knowing exactly what Tony was thinking.
They lay in silence for a few moments, simply wrapped in each other's presence and warmth. Steve felt Tony slowly becoming heavier against him, slumber calling for its wayward charge once again.
He knew if he was going to say this, he had to say it now.
No one had ever called Captain America a coward.
"Tony?" he started, half hoping Tony wouldn't answer, would slip into slumber unaware.
Tony stretched languidly against him, and murmured a soft, "Mhmm?"
Steve drew together his last stores of courage and all but whispered into Tony's hair, "I'm sorry."
"No. No, no, no. Just no. " It was amazing how Tony went from mostly asleep to completely alert in point two of a second.
Steve sighed, resting an arm over his eyes so he could speak into the darkness, "Yes. This was my- I did this."
"Did what!? Saved my life? Saved us both?! " Tony bit back, sleep forgotten.
Steve grimaced at such a stupidly blind thing to say, answering, "I killed you! I drowned y-"
A hand over his mouth shut Steve up, and Tony levered himself upright with a grunt, broken wrist held protectively against his chest as he tugged at the arm covering Steve's eyes until the man gave, lest Tony hurt himself in the effort.
"Steven Rogers, you saved my life, in the only way you could think of. If you hadn't I'd definitely be dead. " Tony argued back.
"Steve pushed himself up a little too, not meeting Tony's gaze as he shot back, "I should have done better! I should have found a better way. Don't you get it Tony? I Held you under the water unt-"
"Stop! You don't get to do this. I can't- I don't ever want to even think about you- That you would be able to-" and Tony felt his throat close, Obadiah's face floating in his fore-vision as he dwelled on what Steve was saying, what betrayal he was trying to reveal.
"No. No, never. I could-" Steve stilled, and really thought about what he was saying.
He could never.
"I could never." And he meant it.
Something shifted inside him, and still the guilt remained, the shame and fear, but it changed, just slightly, into something less consuming, less soul devouring.
He could never.
And more than that, Tony apparently already knew.
"Okay. Okay- I'm sorry. Sorry that it happened, that I hurt you" Steve amended, all truth and no false blame this time.
Tony slumped against him with a pained whimper, jostling his wrist. The relief that poured off him was palpable.
"I forgive you. And thankyou. And… I'm sorry too. " Tony finished, propping his head up on his good arm to look up at Steve through his eyelashes.
Steve frowned, his fingers finding Tony's cheek, cradling, as he'd done earlier in the night, "You'd better not be apologising for getting hurt, for not being able to climb, for slowing me down or anything equally as ridiculous…"
"No, although… but, no. I'm sorry that you went through that. And- I'm sorry I pulled away from you when I came to. "
"It's okay, you'd had a fright. I'd hurt you, even if intelectuall-" Steve tried to reassure, but Tony wasn't having any of it.
"I wasn't seeing you. It was never you. I was having a flashback- of the cave. Your face, the look on your face when I- you pulled me out of the nightmare. You- I know you'll always pull me out. No matter the nightmare, be it real or of my imagination, I know- I know you've got me." Tony finished.
Steve was silent, and remained silent for a very long time, unable to find the words to reply to such a declaration from one such as Tony who trusted a very strict few in the same degree he loved.
Deeply, forever.
Eventually, long after Tony had fallen asleep, and the sun had started to rise, Steve finally knew the correct, and only answer to such a declaration, and he whispered it into the quiet of a morning he hadn't been sure they'd get to see.
"I love you."
A/N-
And that's it for 'In the Heat of the Moment'- I hope you all enjoyed the ride and will tune in for part 6!
-As always, I encourage you to point out errors you notice :)
- So, being a machine, and not actually powered by Tony's heart in any way that we know of, the arc reactor might very well continue to work after Tony himself dies. But. I is author. And I says it doesn't. Because of reasons and plot development.
-Also, author claims no medical knowledge beyond basic first aid and CPR. Research was conducted, but I'll admit, most of this came from the areas of my brain that don't play host to solid fact, i.e. - my imagination.