When he exits the shower, he grabs the softest towel he can find and gently dries Cap's skin. Even that feels grating. And he's hungry. Like starving. He'll get food next.
He looks at his closet and picks his softest band t-shirt. Except it doesn't fit. Like…. Not even close.
"Shit." He whispers out. Nothing fits. Not the shirts or jeans. His athletic pants are stretched so tight across Cap's body that it's practically obscene. His underwear is the same way. So he's naked staring at his closet in annoyance when Jarvis speaks.
Sir. Captain Rogers is outside your door.
Tony grabs a towel, covering himself, which is stupid considering the person he's meeting has seen this body more than he has. But human nature is human nature. He slams the door open.
"Why didn't you tell me about the dampeners?"
Cap blinks, a pile of clothes in his hands. "Uh, what?"
"Why didn't you ask me for new updated sound dampeners?"
Cap's brow (well, Tony's) furrows and he clears his throat in hesitation, "Oh, uh… I didn't want to be a bother."
"It bothers—" Tony emphasizes, "that you're using tech I didn't know about. Techs my thing. You know techs my thing. I can do so much better than that old crap."
"It's not crap." His own voice shoots back, "it's mine and it works—"
"It's not even fully waterproof—" Tony snaps.
"Well I'm not dousing my head in water—!"
"I threw them away." He lies. He didn't, but he's annoyed now. Why is he so annoyed? Why is this towel so damn scratchy? Why is his stomach so empty?
"You what!" Cap, in Tony's body, leans forward, looking furious, "why! Why would you do that! Those are mine! Not yours!"
"They're trash—"
"They're not trash!" He's never heard his own voice so desperately angry. It's a sad anger.
"I'm making new ones. Better ones—"
"I don't want new ones! I want mine!" The guy is pushing past him, and Tony splutters,
"What are you doing!?"
Cap, in his body, eyes the room and strides over to the small trash can. Tony has only the time to say "wait—" before the trash can is being dug through.
Cap, obviously finding nothing, drops it back down and strides to the bathroom. Where his own angry voice floats back to him.
"Did you just dump my whole uniform on your dirty bathroom floor?" He hears his own judgemental voice thrown at him.
"Uh, yeah, I had to get that thing the hell off me!"
"It's the bathroom floor! It's—"
His own voice cuts off and Tony's too curious. He walks to the bathroom door to see Steve staring at the afore-argued-about-dampeners sitting on the counter.
Tony watches as his own body turns to face him, "you said you threw them away."
"I was in the process of it."
Cap swipes the dampeners off the counter, "well too bad. They're not yours to throw away."
Cap strides past him and Tony stomps after him, annoyed about everything and ready to complain about it when he finds a bundle of clothes being shoved into his arms. His own annoyed face glares at him, "these are the least irritating clothes I own." Then Cap, in Tony's body, is walking away, out the door and down the hallway towards the elevator.
"Don't go messing with my arc reactor!" Tony shouts at his own back, "I'm sure you'll be tempted but leave my body the hell alone!"
Cap turns to face him and looks so annoyed, "why would you think I would ever do that?"
"I'm just saying—"
"I'm not you, Stark." Cap snaps at him, "I don't like messing with people for fun."
Tony splutters in annoyance and disbelief as Cap boards the elevator. And Tony can't help himself. He has to take one last shot. "Well, news flash, pretty boy, being in your body sucks!"
And his own head shakes and he hears the humorless huff exit his mouth. Before the doors ding and start to close.
And maybe Cap forgets that he has super hearing now because Tony hears the barely audible whisper, "you think I don't know that?" As the elevator doors slipped closed.
—-
Tony stands in that hallway for a long minute.
You think I don't know that?
His annoyance is wildly fluctuating. He stomps back into his room. "JARVIS?"
Yes, Mr. Stark
"Has Cap… ever complained about his physical annoyances to you?"
Captain Rogers… complain, sir?
He frowns. "Okay, fair enough. Cap doesn't complain. No need to rub it in. Does he show signs of being physically uncomfortable?"
Privacy—
"I'm not asking for private information!" Tony shouts. Then he raps Cap's knuckles against Cap's nose, "I'm just asking if he's ever seemed physically uncomfortable, if you've noticed that maybe he's not as… stoic as he acts." His stomach tightens again, reminding him of his knowing hunger. But he's momentarily distracted by Jarvis' next words.
Is there footage you'd like me to pull up?
Tony blinks, "is there footage to see?"
And if he knew any better he'd think his AI was hesitating before a slow response.
Are you aiming to improve Captain Rogers' experience in the tower?
Tony flicks his eyes up to the ceiling which annoys him because he always reiterates that JARVIS does not reside in the ceiling. "Does Cap's experience need to be improved? What the hell is wrong with the tower?"
Sir, my programming only allows me to see patterns. Not assign labels to those patterns.
When did he program his AI to be a big fat liar? He grits Cap's teeth, "okay, you've piqued my curiosity. Patterns like what?"
A projection appears and Tony walks towards it.
It takes a few seconds of JARVIS flipping through different scenes, days, moments for Tony to see it.
Cap reaching to scratch, or shift, or adjust his clothing, only to stop, take a deep breath, and force his hands back to his side.
Just seeing him do that reminds Tony of how annoying the towel feels against his skin.
"How often a day?" Tony asks, eyes still on the screen as it flips through more moments of Cap refusing to give in to his obvious irritation with whatever he's wearing.
It's most days, sir.
"All day every day?"
There are periods of time where he is distracted and not as noticeably irritated.
Tony reads between the lines, "so when he's either mentally irritated—" probably by him he thinks ruefully, "—or injured?"
Indeed, sir.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccckkk." He breathes out in a long exasperated breath. "Okay. What else."
Another projection pops up. And this one is harder to judge what's happening. Cap's walking in and out of public places but is taking strange paths. Walking straight and then a curve and then back to straight lines as if avoiding an invisible item on the floor.
"I don't understand." Tony says, "what's he doing?"
My program recognizes patterns, sir. Not explanations.
Tony frowns, reaching up to scratch his head and accidentally poking himself (or Cap) in the eye, "ow! Shit!"
Your height is now—
"I will shut you off." Tony snaps glaring at the ceiling with one eye as he runs the other. Tony looks down at Cap's feet. They can feel the material of the carpet, and it thankfully is not irritating to him. "Have you scanned the surfaces? Was there a dirty spot or something?"
My scans show nothing out of the ordinary in those spaces he seems to avoid…
The way Jarvis trails off makes him huff, "but?"
But those spots do align with certain features in the building.
Tony stares closer at the footage of Steve seemingly avoiding random spots, "what features?"
A 3D rendering of the tower appears and zooms in, going to the structural blueprints of the floors.
Pipes are highlighted and then the HVAC system.
"What are you trying to tell me, Jarvis?"
My program recognizes patter—
"Oh for fuck's sake." Tony grumbles, throwing up Cap's arms and walking towards the door.
You may appreciate getting dressed, first, sir.
Tony glares at the pile of clothes Cap had shoved into his arms and then he'd dumped on the ground. He tightens the towel around his waist and shakes his head, "nah, maybe Cap can use a little exposure if he's being such a tightwad about everything else."
If AI's could sigh, he'd be hearing it as he walks out the door.
—
Only Bruce is in the main common room when he is let off the elevator.
"What are you doing, Tony?" Bruce asks with an eyebrow raised. "Why don't you have clothes on?"
"Scientific experiments." He says with a smirk.
"Like what?"
"Jarvis, project the areas he avoids."
The ground lights up with pathways.
"What?" Bruce asks, "what who avoids?"
"Shhh-" Tony snaps. Following the pathway Jarvis has highlighted until it starts to curve into a half circle. But instead of doing so, Tony walks straight.
A chill runs up his spine as the floor gets colder for exactly two steps before returning to normal temperature.
He stops, his body giving an involuntary shudder. "What the hell?"
Bruce is walking over, "what?"
Tony walks back, passing over the flooring again and feeling the cold beneath his feet that makes him want to shimmy from the chill again. He steps onto the cold, ignoring the way Cap's body wants to protest in dislike and he huffs, "Jarvis, what is directly below me?"
"Water pipes, coolant, and fiber optic cables—"
"Shiiiiitt." Tony huffs, then he points at Bruce, "walk here, can you feel that?" Then he shakes his head, "no, no, take off your shoes." Thankfully, Bruce does not question him, obviously able to tell something is up. He removes his soft soled shoes and the socks beneath them and sets them on the ground.
Tony points to the ground, "walk there, right there, can you feel anything?"
Bruce walks exactly where he did and shrugs, "feels like the floor."
"Jarvis! Measure the temperature difference in this square foot, is it actually a cooler temperature than the areas around it?"
"Cooler?" Bruce asks, confused.
Yes, sir.
Then Tony walks to another highlighted area. And instead of taking Steve's swerving path, he walks through. And he shivers. Cold air blows on him, making Cap's skin raise in goose bumps and involuntary shiver. His eyes trace the air flow back to vent in the ceiling.
"This is some fucking joke." He snaps out. Then he turns to Bruce, "did you know about this?"
"Know about what?"
"Cap's so freaking sensitive he avoids the cold air and cold floors. Like Jarvis has mapped his patterns of walking because he avidly avoids it! Jarvis, are all the other areas he avoids beneath AC vents or above coolant and water pipes?" His stomach rumbles and he's getting annoyed about it.
Indeed, sir.
"Geeez." Tony huffs.
"I don't think it's fair to say he's sensitive about it." Bruce offers softly, "I probably would be too."
Tony turns to him, "what?"
"I mean, if I was him I'd probably avoid the cold too."
He's so hungry, can't even half think and nothing computes, "why?"
Bruce studies him and then looks annoyed, "really? You need me to spell out the reason why a guy frozen in the ice for 70 years is sensitive about the cold?"
Tony's mind reels, "wait, what!?"
Bruce looks at him and then looks confused, "wait, what, what?"
"You think Cap's sensitive about the cold temps because of the ice?" Why does that thought make him physically angry?
"Yeah…" Bruce gestures to Tony, "isn't that what you meant about being sensitive?"
"What!" Tony snaps, "NO!" He huffs, annoyance raging, "I meant that his skin is literally sensitive to temperature changes! And like, I can feel everything! It's horrible. I'm so fucking hungry!" He glares at Bruce, "why did you think he was sensitive because of the ice?"
Bruce rolls his eyes, "because he is. Haven't you noticed?"
"Noticed what?"
"He avoids the cold when he can and thinks no one is watching."
Tony blink in surprise, "like when?"
"Remember when we were outside that stupid snow fortress? And he offered to be the one to search the entire sewage system instead of just patrolling the outside?"
It takes a second but Tony nods, "uh, yeah, I thought that was him just being a martyr for the team."
Bruce shrugs, "I'm not saying he wouldn't have done it anyway, I just know the look I saw in his eyes staring at that snow is the same one I get when surrounded by needles."
He groans and feels the crazy urge to punch something. "Ugh! Why can't he just tell us these things?"
"Oh sure." Bruce says with an eyebrow raised, "I'm sure he'd love to admit his raging PTSD to the guy who makes fun of him for absolutely no reason at all."
Tony reaches out, snagging Bruce's shirt front and yanking him forward, "I do not!"
Bruce's eyes widen, "hey, woah, back off, Tony!"
But Tony's so freaking mad, like, uncontrollable anger and annoyance just flooding his veins, He yanks Bruce closer, "oh yeah? What are you gonna do, Banner? Hulk out and make me?"
The barest hints of green appear in Bruce's eyes, but the scientist just shoves (unsuccessfully) against Cap's chest, "Tony, let me go, right now—"
"Take back what you said! Cap's the jerk who never even gave us a heads up! Now I'm dealing with all his stupid crap!" Tony finds the rage is building, it's intoxicating, he can feel his muscles flexing and strength expanding, like he might be able to tear apart this whole room. "Take it back, Banner!"
Bruce is staring at him strangely, "Stark, I think you need to take a deep breath and think about this, something's affecting your emotions. Maybe it's whatever has caused you to switch."
Tony scoffs, feeling the annoyance at the man grow as he shoves him back, sending the scientist stumbling, "I'm fine! Mind your own damn business!"
Bruce lands on his backside and stares up at him, "Jarvis, call the team."
Yes, Dr. Banner
"Calling mommy and daddy to help?" Tony snaps, "how very brave of you!"
"This isn't about bravery," Banner says slowly, "you're losing it—"
"I am NOT! I'm fine! You're the one who's scared!"
Bruce's expression is filled with wariness, "take a deep breath Tony, whatever you're feeling, try to control it—"
"OH! You? You're going to talk to me about control!? The fucking irony!" He hears the elevator whirring. "Tell them to go away, I don't need help!"
"You do. Something is wrong. I know you're frustrated at the situation with me and Steve and the switching but you're not even like this when you're drunk." Bruce says, keeping his eyes locked on Tony as he slowly stands, "this anger isn't you." The door to the elevator dings but he can't focus on who is here, he's too angry and he can't seem to control it.
"Yeah! I'm not me! I'm that stupid idiot Steve Fucking Rogers who doesn't have five braincells to rub together to know how to land a plane and save us all the misery of having to live with him!"
His hearing catches the strange heartbeat a second too late. The metallic whine mixed with the thump-thu-thump that he knows so well. His own heartbeat.
He looks up to see his own eyes staring back at him, somehow a devastated and yet blank thousand yard stare mixed together.
"He's not himself." Bruce is saying, "something's wrong, he's too worked up."
"I am NOT!" He shouts, "I'm the genius here! Stop pretending you have all the answers, Banner!"
"What's going on?" Natasha asks, stepping out way too quietly from the stairwell, "why were we called?" She looks confused, "why is he in a towel?"
"Tony," Bruce says calmly as if trying to keep a toddler from having a tantrum, "I think we all just need to take a second to calm down." Then Bruce signs something to Natasha who looks at Tony in confusion, and signs something back.
Bruce nods, and Natasha leaves.
"Where did you send her!?" Tony asks, his annoyance an overwhelming wave, "what the hell did you say!"
"Just something to calm you down, huh? Something I've been working on for Steve."
"I'm not Steve!" He snaps.
Bruce nods placatingly, "I'm just talking about something for Steve's metabolism—"
"Oh, like I"m going to let you anywhere near me with something medical! I'm not about to let myself become Hulk 2.0!"
Bruce frowns but says nothing.
Then his own face is in front of him, "hey, what's your favorite thing in the entire world?"
"What? Fuck off—"
"Is it Your suits? Your cars? Technology? Pepper?"
Pepper. He loves Pepper. He loves his suits too, but definitely Pepper. He sees himself nod, "Pepper, right? Pepper's great. So nice. She's genuinely kind. That's rare nowadays. But she's not a pushover. She means business, right?"
He has no choice but to nod.
"The way she commands a room, impressive. You love that about her. Right?"
His confusion is rising, "uh, yeah, you trying to hit on my girl—"
"Nope." He hears his own voice cut back, "no. I just know how amazing she is. I know how much she loves you. And you love her. That's wonderful. She's wonderful, right?"
"Yes."
His own face gives a tight grin, "good, why don't you tell us about her?"
"About Pepper?"
"Yeah, or anything you like."
"I'm hungry." Tony says, "Pepper always knows what I want to eat. She has a sixth sense."
"That's because she cares about you enough to listen and learn your habits. That's some dedication right there. That's the mark of a great woman who really loves you."
"Yeah…" he agrees, feeling a weird release of tension, he shakes his shoulders and then his head, "geez, I'm starving."
"For sure, Bruce, we still have all that leftover lasagna?"
"Yeah…" Bruce says, a very confused and wary expression on his face.
"Great, can you heat that up for Tony?"
"Sure…"
Clint enters the room, "what's up—" he grimaces, "why are you in a towel?"
Tony looks down at Cap's impressive physique that he's in and shrugs, "figured it's high time for Cap to stop hiding like a little prude."
"Bruce," he hears his own voice say, "I'm going to go. Just… if it starts up again just keep talking about things he likes. Calming things. Okay?"
"I don't need to be managed!" Tony snaps, starting to feel that rise in tension again, "I am calm!"
His own hands go up in surrender and then his own back is retreating, disappearing behind the elevator doors.
"What is going on?" Clint asks, "and seriously, put on some clothes you'll give me a complex."
Tony laughs and the tension eases again. "Geez, I'm freaking starving!"
"Come to the kitchen." Bruce calls, "sit down and be patient, I'm heating some up."
He rolls his eyes but obeys, the smell already tantalizing from the microwave.
Natasha reappears, something in her hand as Tony is stuffing Cap's face and stomach with food. She eyes the situation and only because of his incredible senses now does he catch the silent conversation happening. But he's too engrossed in his food to care.
"We'll be back." Bruce says to the room. And then he and Clint are gone.
Natasha sits beside him, tearing apart a piece of garlic bread with her fingers, "why aren't you wearing clothes?"
"I'm wearing a towel." He shoots back. "I'm appropriate."
Natasha snorts delicately and he doesn't miss the way she eyes Cap's body appreciatively out of the corner of her eyes before facing forward, "be nice. He could embarrass you too."
"This ain't embarrassing him. I'm doing that big bore a favor."
"He is kind of reserved." Natasha admits.
"Probably too distracted with how everything sucks." Tony gripes without thinking.
"What do you mean?"
Tony leans back, speaking through a half full mouth, "everything about Cap sucks! This whole dumb body is so sensitive to every fabric, hell that's half the reason I'm actually in this towel. And I can hear Barton breathing from three floors away and—" he turns to Natasha, "did you know he wears sound dampeners?"
"He does?"
"Yeah. And his body gets all shivery when it's cold and I'm like hungry all the time. So no wonder he's such a stick in the mud, his life sucks."
"You've been in his body for like three hours. Tops."
"Yeah, that's how much it sucks."
Her face gets contemplative and she goes quiet, eating her bread without so much as a crumb falling.
Tony picks up the glass of some juice Bruce had poured for him but the glass starts to slip. His muscles tighten, trying to catch it, and he does for one millisecond before his grip shatters the cup into a million pieces, splattering both him and Natasha with the red liquid.
"Ah!" He gasps, sucking in a sharp breath at the pain as different red liquid starts to drip from his still clasped fist. He opens it, shards of glass sticking out of the juice and blood stained palm and he stares at it in horror.
"Oh shit," Natasha breathes, wiping juice from her neck with her forearm, "hold on."
"This hurts." Is all his brain can compute and say, "this fucking hurts!" The grating of the towel on his skin is all but forgotten as the pulse in his hands beats like a drum, the pain thrumming with each beat. "Ow, shit, ow!"
He's yanks his hand, pulling it close to his chest on reflex but that just hurts more. "Ah!" He's gasping, pain rising and making him stumble off his chair and suck air in through his teeth as he bends forward, his hand shaking.
"Stop, Tony!" Natasha is snapping at him, "hold still!"
She tries to grab his wrist but he yanks it away, letting out a stream of profanities that would make even his father upset.
"Jarvis!" Calls out Natasha, "tell Bruce to get back up here!"
Then she grabs something out of her pocket and grasps his bicep, "hold on, this will help."
He feels a sharp jab that compared to his hand feels like nothing and then a wave of relief as the pain fades. He breathe sout, finally able to straighten up. "Ow, fucking shit!" He says.
"Hold still—" Natasha says, grasping his wrist and turning his hand palm up. She gently picks one of the bigger pieces out of his palm with a napkin and she sets it on the now juiced soaked plate.
The pain is returning quickly. "Ugh," he snaps, "hurry, it's starting to hurt again."
Her eyes flick up to his face, "what? I just gave you that dose—"
"What happened!?" Tony looks up to see Bruce coming into the room, "Jarvis said you were injured?"
He nods, "yeah, and it fucking hurts."
Bruce comes over, examining the wound and taking Natasha's position holding his wrist. "Jarvis, tell Clint to get my first aid kit from my room and bring it." He turns to Natasha, "give him the—"
"I did." Natasha snaps before he can finish. " I just did."
Bruce pauses, looking at Natasha who looks like she wants to punch something.
"But…" Bruce starts, his own eyes getting a bit hazy before he sharpens his gaze to Tony's hand, which is really starting to throb again. "You're in pain?"
"Hell yes I'm in pain! I got shredded by glass!"
Bruce just stares at his hand and with his fingers, ghosts over the glass without touching it.
"I'm going to kill him." Natasha says quietly.
"Kill who?" Tony asks, wincing, "geez, this hurts!"
"We know!" She snaps back at him.
Tony shakes his head, "no, no this really hurts. Like…" he frowns, "I know what a consistent level of pain is. With my chest and all. This…" he swallows shaking his head, "this is not that. This is pain." He grimaces, resisting the urge to yank his hand away. "This is like… intensified."
Bruce looks at him, "explain,"
"It's like his skin. If the nerves are so sensitive that even normal clothes feel like rough wool, the nerves are sensitive enough to fire intensified relays to the brain about—" his hand throbs and he hisses through his teeth, "pain."
"You're saying you're experiencing a higher level of pain than this wound would cause?"
He nods.
Clint returns and maybe Bruce and Natasha are still talking but all he can focus on is not screaming as Bruce carefully extracts the glass shards with tweezers.
The antiseptic Bruce pours on his hands makes him gasp so loudly it makes everyone jump. "Shit!"
Bruce carefully bandages his hand and then they look around. Blood, juice, and glass litter the table and floor.
"I'll clean it." Natasha offers, "I need to keep my hands busy so I don't strangle anyone."
The pain is finally starting to lessen. Enough that he's able to focus on something else, "why would you want to strangle someone?"
"If he's been—"
"Nat." Bruce says softly, "we need to talk to him before we make assumptions. This could be a side effect of the whole ordeal."
She shakes her head, "and if it's not?"
"Then I'll strangle him." Bruce growls out, the hint of green coloring his neck.
Tony's walking out towards the elevator, still holding his hand like it's a grenade about to go off. He passes through the doors and they start to close. He hears talking.
It takes him a second to realize that it's Bruce and Natasha from the floor he just left.
He can hear them with relative ease.
"—you find him?"
"Nope. ALready going. Jarvis said he left teh building."
"As Tony Stark?"
"He'll come back. He'll hate the attention."
"Bruce, if—"
The doors ding and he looks up, startled that he can still make out their muffled tones three floors down.
And he thinks about all the snide things he said about Cap immediately following his departure from any room or conversation.
Snide remarks he obviously heard.
And said nothing about.
Shit.