Coulson accompanies Tony to the shower, to change the bandages after, and because the one time the water came out cold, he bashed on the door, instead of sliding it open, breaking the glass and cutting his hands.
Listening to the shower run, he wonders at the fact he feels defensive, of Tony, against Rogers. Not that he thinks anything ill of Rogers, but he just doesn't want Tony to get hurt, and it seems like the situation might lead to that. On the other hand, Tony emblushed/em earlier, when they were together. Before tonight, he would have doubted Tony was physically capable of such a thing.
He hears a knocking sound, but it isn't frantic, or anything but steady and persistent. Tony just wants him to come in, he's guessing. He enters, and finds Tony okay, and writing in the steam on the glass door, the water turned off. The letters are, of course, backwards, because why would Tony put himself out just to make it easier for Coulson, 'do you think this is a good idea?'
"No," says Coulson, flatly, even though he meant to say yes, then finds himself having to explain, "I think he's too scared to be sure he'll follow through, and you care too much to not get hurt if he doesn't."
Tony crouches, in the shower, to use a different part of the door, though the writing from before is already fading, from the dark grey lettering to the light misty shroud, 'so you think I shouldn't go with him.'
"No, I think you absolutely should. That doesn't mean it's remotely a good idea."
Tony exits the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, and sits sideways on the bed, pulling the covers up to his belly button, closing his eyes in anticipation of pain. Coulson pulls up a chair, setting the supplies on the bedside table. It isn't nearly as bad as it was, but the inflamation from the heavy layers rubbing on new, tender skin, is becoming more of an issue as the slowly closing sores become less. The skin is chapped, and bright red, rubbed raw on the shoulder blades, and right shoulder, to the point where it was broken in a few places, slowly leaking plasma onto the bandages, leaving brownish yellow stains on the white gauze.
Coulson sighs, putting his hand on Tony's arm to steady him, possibly more mentally than physically, and picking up one of the swabs, starting to clean the sores and broken skin. Tony shivers, at the cold, wet touch. Coulson squeezes his arm, and keeps cleaning.
When the sores are dealt with, Coulson sets down the swabs, and Tony turns, laying down on his stomach, folding his right arm under his chest, because it won't really go anywhere else, the scars, like stretched silly putty, have pulled the skin and muscle on his shoulder too tight.
Coulson squirts the baby oil onto his hands, and carefully rubs it in, his palms gliding over the pink, painful skin, carefully avoiding the still open wounds. Tony whimpers. Coulson almost stops, in surprise, but doesn't, hoping that if he's reacting to something torturing his mind, not something happening now, the continued touch will help, "what's wrong?"
Tony turns over, the oil soaking into the sheets, but he doesn't seem to care, as he pulls the covers up to his neck, staring at Coulson like he's not really sure where he is.
Coulson climbs onto the bed, with the smaller man, and lifts the covers over his legs, so Tony can lay down in his lap without exiting the warm space.
"N-uh..."
"What?"
Tony closes his eyes, gripping a handful of Coulon's pants, and pulling, hard.
"I'm sorry." His voice is hoarse and croaky with disuse, but his words are clear.
"For what?"
"I don't know what is..."
"It's okay."
Coulson pulls Tony's upper body further into his lap, and texts Banner. He's 90% sure that Tony got cold, and is having trouble remembering whether this, here, is his present, or back in Jotunheim, and the dark and pain, but Coulson doesn't want to take any chances that something is happening medically. Banner comes in maybe three minutes later, and kneels beside the bed, hand on Tony's hip through the covers, "Tony?"
Tony turns his head, and swallows, and nods.
"You okay?"
Tony nods again, and he just looks terrified, and confused, and Banner sits on the bed on the foot or so of mattress on the side of Tony opposite Coulson, though on the covers, instead of under them. There's nothing really to do, but be warm and comforting, until Tony manages to sort it out. That doesn't mean Coulson doesn't feel a little sick, at just how scared Tony is.
He glances up, and realizes Loki is standing in the doorway. Coulson looks at Banner, who shakes his head, a little. Loki must just have been with him when he got the text.
Coulson stands, at the benefit, at the edge of the dance floor, discrete, but close enough to be at Tony and Steve's sides at a moment's notice. Rogers, in his 40's dress uniform, has one hand on Tony's arm, the other on his hip. Tony's grinning, and happy, and is smoothing the pocket on Rogers' jacket, that was pressed a little wrong when the uniform went into storage seventy years before. Neither of them seem to give the slightest of damns, that everyone else in the room is staring, except Tony might be enjoying it, just a bit. Or possibly kind of a lot.
Coulson glances across the room, at the open bar, where Banner is parked. Coulson's not sure why Banner's there, but he thinks he might have seen Natasha, in a suit and heels, earlier, so maybe they came more as Natalie and Dr. Banner, to keep an eye on their friends.
It's just then, when the photographer comes up, and approaches Tony and Rogers. Coulson wasn't watching, exactly, to catch the beginning, but when he looks back from Banner, Rogers is ducking out the door, and Tony is standing next to the photographer, looking kind of at a loss, though not shocked, and not as hurt as he could have looked. Coulson goes to step towards them–Tony can't make an excuse if he can't speak to the reporter, but Natasha is already there. As Coulson reaches them, he hears her finish explaining that Tony is getting over laryngitis, but that if the reporter has any questions, he can direct them to her or Pepper.
Tony follows Coulson, Natasha, and Banner out, and winds up riding him with Banner and Natasha, while Coulson looks for Rogers. Eventually, he finds him sitting on the steps of the kitchen entrance, staring miserably out into the night. He looks up when he sees Coulson, and sighs, "I'm a coward."
"Possibly."
"How bad is it? How badly did I hurt him?"
"I think he might have been expecting it, a little, so less than it could have been."
"Is he okay?"
"He's sad. What did you expect?"
"No, but... does it seem like he's going to do something stupid?"
"No, it seems like he's going to go to bed. Which you should also do. They already left, so you're riding with me."
"I tried to..."
"You can't change for another person, Rogers. As much as you might want to. It just doesn't work unless it's change you want yourself, as well."
"I don't want to be a coward."
"It isn't about being a coward or not. It's about being comfortable with who you are. Which you clearly aren't."
Coulson watches, from his seat cross-legged Tony's desk chair, as he puts his left arm in his pajama shirt, pulls it over his head, and then stretches the right armhole down to meet his hand, awkwardly pulling the shirt up his arm, tucking it into his armpit.
He looks at Coulson, presses his lips together briefly, closes his eyes, and lays down on the couch, facing the wall, pulling his blankets up over him. He had wanted to stay up the whole night and work, so they had compromised on him sleeping on the couch in the workshop, and getting up early.
Around maybe four AM, Coulson woke from where he'd fallen asleep on a cot behind Tony's desk. He sits up. Loki has entered the workshop, in the baggy baseball print pajamas Thor had insisted on him borrowing. He walks quietly to the couch, and crouches down, carefully lifting the blankets, and folding them back to Tony's hip. Then he gingerly pulls the nightshirt up, a little. After a moment, he puts it back down, and Coulson could almost dare to call it gently, covers Tony with the blankets again, smoothing them and tucking them.
He ducks under the spider web of cables, and comes up at the control station. Coulson can see Tony watching, having been woken by the god's actions. Loki changes two things, then ducks back out and leaves the workshop, still unaware that he had been observed.
Tony sits up, sighing, and pulling his shirt back into a comfortable position. Coulson gets to his feet, and carries a pad of paper over to the smaller man, handing it to him, "did he sabotage it?"
'No. He removed the limits I put on it, so that if it was pulling too much power for him to handle without harm, the portal would shut down, instead of just going on and opening and injuring him.'
Coulson stands against the bench, in the gym. Rogers had insisted at some point that they all get some exercise in the morning. Usually, it consisted of Rogers being enthusiastic, Clint and Natasha disappearing mysteriously well before the end, Bruce pointing out that he couldn't do much without his heartrate rising dangerously, Thor breaking anything he tried to use, but staying cheerfully anyway, and Tony and Coulson occasionally actually participating.
Today, though, Clint has basically glued himself to Tony, which, Coulson saw Rogers' hurt look, but it was quickly masked, Rogers realizing he had no room to be offended. Just a little hurt.
Natasha is also staying, but she's watching Loki, and Bruce, standing in a corner. Steve just stands at the punching bags, beating the hell out of some sand. Thor enters with a box of pop tarts, and goes straight to Tony, offering them. Tony smiles slightly, and shakes his head, indicating Coulson. Coulson glares at Tony, and takes one pop tart.
Rogers punching bag dies, and he sighs, picking up another one, and hanging it on the hook. He punches it twice, and then it explodes. Not in a fiery, dangerous, scary way. It just bursts, and covers Rogers, the floor, and a good portion of the room nearby in eye-smartingly bright blue dust.
Rogers turns, and glares, very hurt, at Clint, "why?"
Clint raises his hands, "the literal emgod of mischief/em is standing right there, and you're looking at me."
Rogers goes to look at Loki, but stops, as an unfamiliar sound echos through the hard-walled room. Tony is bent double, laughing his ever living ass off. Coulson looks over at Loki...and sees that Loki is looking at Banner.