Many thanks to Aublanc, my beta for this story.
Title: The Aftermath.
Prompt: Setting the Scene- A Story in a Hospital.
Warnings: Reference to past injury & violence.
Tony wrinkled his nose and groaned loudly, burying the side of his face into the stiff hospital pillow.
"I'm done for. Please, save yourself. Keep the kids safe and leave me alone to die."
Steve's mouth tightened and he flipped to a new page in his sketchbook, pencil stuck behind his ear.
"Lay off, Tony."
Tony lifted his head up far enough to glare at the Super Soldier.
"I think I'm entitled to a little sympathy here! In case you've forgotten, I've been shot."
Steve sighed, sketching an outline of the view from the hospital window—a small herb garden with whimsical sculptures placed every few feet—with a few brief strokes.
"Yes, I know. It's kind of hard to forget when you've been reminding me about it every five minutes."
Tony huffed and fiddled with the thick padding covering the area between his right shoulder and the arc reactor. Steve leaned forward and smacked his hand away without so much as a glance up.
"Don't. The doctors said that if you behave you'll be moved out of the ICU tonight, remember?"
"Can't I just go back to the Tower? We've got a whole med bay there and—"
"Don't."
Tony stuck his tongue out and went back to sulking. Steve had been acting weird all day and Tony was determined to force him into making the next move. It took several minutes, but eventually the soldier replaced the pencil behind his ear and flipped the sketchbook closed. Instead of sketching, Steve chose to spend the next five minutes watching Tony shred a napkin into smaller and smaller pieces. Tony knew, of course, but he didn't say anything. He kept shredding until his lap was covered in fake snow. When Steve finally spoke, it was much softer than his normal tone. Less hard-nosed soldier, more scared twenty-something.
"You could have died."
Eyebrows raised, Tony took the time to really look at the blond for the first time since he'd gotten out of surgery; he didn't like what he saw. Cap looked…wrong. His skin was washed-out, the only color found in the purpling skin underneath his eyes. There was a hollowness to his cheeks that didn't fit the robust image that had always been Captain America in Tony's mind and he immediately decided that they were both eating a pile of cheeseburgers for dinner.
"Cap, people don't usually die of injuries like this these days. It's not exactly fun, but it could have been a lot worse. That bullet could have gone clean through or struck bone. Instead it was close enough to this thing," Tony tapped the reactor, "that it got stopped pretty quick; there's some muscle damage and it hurts to breathe, but I got used to that sort of thing a long time ago. I was only messing around earlier, so you can stop beating yourself up about it. I'm fine. You can go home or whatever. I don't care."
Steve gave him that kicked puppy look—the one that made Tony feel like a complete bastard for even looking at the guy. Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Look, it's not that I don't want you here. I just know you've got better things to do and, like I said, I'll be fine. A little more rest and some therapy and I'll be good as new. There's no reason for you to mope around here all day."
"That's not the point, Tony."
"Then what is the point?"
"I—it's nothing. Just forget about it."
Steve scooped up his sketchbook and hurried out of the room, brushing past Pepper on the way out. Tony greeted her with a tight smile, noting the all too familiar signs of a stressed out Pepper Potts: the spicy yet calming blend of lavender, chamomile, and mint—a clinging odor from a calming tea she drank religiously when worried; the hint of gray underneath her eyes—buried expertly under makeup, but he'd gotten a lot of practice at looking past masks; the crease between her eyebrows; the chapped lips; the way she'd been in the room with him for a full minute and a half now and still hadn't looked him in the eye. He broke the awkward silence, stomach churning with the knowledge that this was too familiar and too strange all at once and he wanted it to stop.
"Hey Pep. So, the doc says I'm gonna be moved to a regular room tonight and I was thinking we should celebrate. And by celebrate, I mean you should sneak in a sack of cheeseburgers and watch me eat them all."
She frowned disapprovingly and sat on the side of his bed, smoothing back the hair from his face.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Tony. I'm sure they have you on that diet for a reason."
He made a face and captured her hand in his, skimming his thumb across her knuckles and marveling at the softness of her skin compared to his.
"You're all so serious lately. A couple of cheeseburgers won't kill me, Pep."
She stiffened and he swore internally. She lay down and fitted herself to him, lips pressed against his uninjured shoulder, breath warming his skin.
"Please don't say that. It just makes this harder."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"I was so scared, Tony. When Steve called and said you'd been shot I just… G-d, I was so worried. And then the surgery took so much longer than it was supposed to and you didn't wake up and I was so scared."
His throat tightened. Swallowing harshly, he planted a kiss against her forehead, stubbornly ignoring the way the movement pulled at his injury and wrapped his other arm around her. He closed his eyes, lips barely brushing against her skin, close enough that he could taste her.
"It's okay. I'm okay. I'm not gonna leave you, Pep. We're okay, I promise."
They stayed like that for almost an hour, Pepper sniffling in his arms and Tony breathing her in until he forgot what it was to take a breath without her. But eventually the tears stopped and the morphine was running out and it was just too uncomfortable to stay in that position any longer. He rolled flat onto his back with a sigh as Pepper swiped away the last of her tears with the back of her hand. She cleared her throat and sat up, eyes red and hands shaky, but feeling better than she had ever since she'd heard of the incident.
"The others were worried, too. I haven't heard him—Steve—sound that upset before. Natasha and Clint said to let you know they'll be keeping an eye out for you. And Bruce wanted you to know that he wants to come by later; once he knows for sure he's not going to have an 'accident.'"
Tony patted her hand tiredly, smiling up at the woman he swore was an angel in disguise.
"Good. I'd like to see them. But first…" He levered himself up with a groan, ignoring Pepper's protests to let his legs hang off the side of the bed. "Tell Cap to get in here; I know he's still lurking out in the hall."
Her mouth twisted, but she bustled out of the room. Steve ducked in soon afterwards, wary and faintly embarrassed.
"Tony? I—"
Tony held up a hand to quiet the other man and carefully stood.
"Save it, Cap. I owe you an apology. I was being a jerk earlier and you didn't deserve that. So this is me—apologizing." He held out his left hand with a smirk, wiggling his fingers until Steve grasped his hand. "And this is me saying thanks. You guys really saved my neck back there. I won't be able to return the favor for a while, but you can tell the others that you'll all be getting a little surprise once I get back in the 'shop. Scout's honor."
Steve's unsure smile widened into a full grin and a full-bellied laugh slipped past his guard.
"Stark, I don't believe you were ever a boy scout."
Tony returned the grin and slipped his hand out of Steve's, gingerly lowering himself back onto the bed.
"You'd be right. But it's the principle of the thing, right?"
"Sure, Tony. Whatever you say." Steve hesitated for a moment before patting Tony awkwardly on his left shoulder, well away from the thick bandage. "I'm just glad we got there in time."
"Yeah. Me too."
"Hey Tony? From now on, try not to get shot."
"Sure, Cap. Whatever you say."